Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
Posts: 1,036 
Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
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Post by Kaine Australis on Mar 28, 2021 4:25:07 GMT -8
The final battle began on schedule. That much, Kaine had under control. All the rebel units were in place for the final assault on the enemy capital. Though there had been divisions, arguments, and a couple of fistfights which were kept quiet; the rebels were now firmly in tune with the Mandalorian plan. The only rebel leader he thought worth a damn was the young General with the dark skin and intense eyes. She was waiting at the command post when Kaine arrived. No salutes were exchanged. Kaine's helmet was clipped to his belt, and he had his game face on, as did the young General.
For this part of the battle, Kaine had provided a holotable, which the locals had fawned over. The three dimensional representation was at the strategic view, showing their own forces deployed along the ridgelines to the north and northeast, with their armour poised to strike west out of the eastern foothills across the coastal plain. At a word from Kaine, the display lit up with enemy positions in red. More fawning from the rebels, though Kaine's eyes were on the young General. She watched, clearly impressed, but kept her reserve. He was impressed again. Kaine walked across to within whispering distance, and noted the second star that had appeared on her collar.
Congratulations. Kaine voiced, eyes going to the collar by way of explanation. The General kept her voice equally low, an almost conspiratorial whisper.
Politics. She nodded towards the local political types, distinct from the military leaders in their lack of uniforms. I'm in command of all armed forces, but it's so whoever takes over among those fools can use me to whip the others into line.
Kaine heard the disgust. You going to let that happen? He raised an eyebrow.
She shook her head. Not a chance. We're not fighting to put another corrupt asshat in charge. If the President was alive.... The General broke off.
The President was not alive. The enemy had seen to that, even recording the execution for the benefit of the rebels. They had called the raid an attempted rescue and blamed the rebels for the death. Kaine had been disgusted, but not surprised.
Someone else needs to step up. Kaine said it simply, without looking at the General.
I don't want to be in charge. Kaine tsked.
Someone else needs to step up, for now. He met her eyes, this time.
She nodded. Kaine cocked his head. Whatever you decide to do, do it fast.
An alert tone from the holodisplay cut the conversation off. Contact. Both of them moved through the throng to the table, with the others moving aside for the two senior officers.
The holodisplay moved and shifted, now showing the perspective from the foothills, facing directly west towards the capital. Friendly armor units were moving out, and in the distance, red highlighted enemy armor units had been detected moving out from their pre-prepared positions inside the city.
The city was partially fortified, with some trenches, hastily constructed concrete bunkers and machine gun nests. The main approaches were well guarded by field guns and trenchlines. Enemy soldiers were not much in evidence, but with a battle in the offing, that was well expected. Everyone would be out of the way, or bunkered down ready for a scrap.
Friendly artillery opened up from the rebel lines, targeted on the incoming armored formations. This time, the enemy was prepared, and swiftly began to disperse its armor as the first volleys came in.
Enemy artillery, prepositioned for just this moment, now came to life. They had waited for the rebel artillery to fire, and now pounded out a withering counterbattery fire from the six heavily fortified artillery positions within the city itself; all coming down on the rebels' first artillery line. Just as Kaine had expected.
The friendly artillery, prewarned as to what to expect, had immediately pulled up stakes after only one volley, and commenced their well practiced 'getting the hell out of here' maneuvers. Much of the enemy fire landed on empty positions as a consequence. Likewise, the enemy batteries had just exposed their own current positions very nicely. Kaine smiled his first smile of the day. He did love it when a plan came together.
The young General gave the command. Second artillery, you may open fire.
A grizzled looking political type objected. You can't fire on an open city, they'll rip the place to pieces, tear the whole place apart.
The General eyed him as if he were a particularly tasty morsel, and spoke in an icy tone.
One can fire on positions within a city, minister. She used the civilian rank like a dirty word. If you have position data accurate to the millimeter, and I just gave it to them.
On cue, the second line of rebel artillery, not to the east as the first line had been, but well to the north, along with most of the heavy rocket artillery that had done so much damage on the opening day, opened fire; lighting the sky for miles with flashes of light. Kaine heard the rockets go over from inside the command post, whooshing overhead like a massive freight train.
All six positions were annihilated. Unlike the rebel artillery positions in the field, they couldn't easily maneuver or relocate within the city. Preprepared positions were great, unless you were trapped in them with the sky raining explosive death. Whole guns and tracked vehicles were blasted apart, and over on their sides by the rockets' arrival. With the pinpoint accuracy, the buildings around, while losing plenty of glass, remained standing and unburning.
The General was arguing with the commander of her tank brigades, now engaging with the enemy armour on the plains. The colonel leading the tanks wanted to charge, while his orders stated he was to wait for the artillery to hit the enemy armor before mopping up. He heard the tail end of the conversation, which he expected was as much for the politicians in the room as for the poor Colonel now taking a rocket from his commander.
You will follow your orders, or I will personally come down and skin the hide off you!
The response was instant and clipped. Sir. And the General even gave the politicians the benefit of a look before turning to Kaine.
Let's go.
Kaine's mind was already on the final part of the operation. The battle on the plains was won and dusted. The enemy tanks, while formidable, would be outnumbered, outflanked, and without support. The enemy forces in the city could be a problem, if they decided to be. It was time for the offworlders to settle this, the locals were doing their part.
The sound of repulsorlifts and thrusters outside drew a crowd behind Kaine and the General as they went outside. Fifty Clan Australis Mandalorian Ori'rami'kade including twenty in super heavy AV-1A assault armour along with four LAAT/X Gunships landed in a clearing just beside the command building. Kaine fixed his helmet onto his head. He pointed the General to the lead gunship and she boarded. One of the politicians who had come outside shouted over the noise at the Mandalorian Alor.
You have aircraft?
Kaine didn't turn his head. Buddy, I am aircraft.
With that, the old boar lit his jetboots and shot into the air, as the four gunships lifted off with the Mandalorian assault teams.
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Post by Captain Xakic Kannue on Apr 9, 2021 19:42:00 GMT -8
*A lone hill freighter moved along with all the grace of a whale in a bathtub*
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Post by Captain Xakic Kannue on Apr 9, 2021 20:41:15 GMT -8
*Kannue quietly captained his bucket of boots back to where it had came*
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
Posts: 1,036
Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Kaine Australis on Apr 20, 2021 21:52:50 GMT -8
Beyond the odd airspeeder, the locals lacked any sort of aircraft. To this point in the war, they'd been fighting a land campaign. For the opening battles, Kaine was more than happy to keep the enemy ignorant of his force's full capabilities until it came time to use them. Likewise, he could have won the rebels' war for them in a day utilizing brute force. He was here to end this war, not have it start up again five minutes after he and his Mando'ade left the planet. That would have been untidy, and though people had all sorts of opinions on Kaine Australis across the galaxy; no one could say the chakaar couldn't fight.
Four LAAT gunships in Clan colours was hardly enough to wage war. The rebel General that Kaine had befriended rode in the lead gunship, while the Alor flew alongside under his own power. There were only about fifty Mando'ade in the strike force, as Kaine knew well; more than enough to wage war. Rockets flew from the gunships' flanks, striking at ground positions within the city as they flew overhead. Some ground fire came their way, but with the rebel assault now closing in on the outskirts of the city, the enemy defenders had other things to worry them. The four gunships began dropping the heavy troopers in their AV-1A Assault Armour into the city streets below. The heavy troopers dropped like stones, landing forcefully.
Below him, Kaine saw an enemy main battle tank begin traversing its heavy twin turret to aim at one of the heavy troopers. The heavy tank boasted a twin 150mm cannon atop a heavily armoured tracked chassis. A formidable vehicle, especially against the lighter tanks the rebels utilized. The turret traversed quickly, bringing the heavy guns around to face the armoured trooper. Well before it could come into line, the heavy trooper raised one arm and fired his weapon. A brilliant white-hot ball of plasma shot away towards the tank. The ball of plasma impacted the heavy tank without much fanfare or explosion, but the effect was devastating. The superheated plasma burned its way through the armour and flash fried the inside of the vehicle. The result was a thick black column of smoke rising from the small hole in the turret, which, along with the tank, had ceased moving.
The flying Mando had no more time to admire the heavy trooper's handiwork, as a shield popped into existence around the building that Intelligence had tagged as the main enemy command centre. That hadn't been on the cards. A quick blink command into the Clan's battle net got Kaine the site of the shield generator and projector. He tagged it as a personal target, which let the gunships know to proceed on mission. He would deal with the enemy's little surprise. Adjusting his flight, Kaine brought the new target building into line of sight. Macrobinoculars in his HUD allowed Kaine to scan the building's rooftop. A dozen goons, some local militia, and the generator and projector dish. Kaine was just about to settle targets when a round pinged off his plates. Incredulous, because the range was still some distance, he was surprised to see the shot had come from one of the young militia soldiers, a rifle to his shoulder. Kaine had to admire both the nerve and skill, as well as the alertness of the young soldier, even if he was fighting for a doomed cause, and on the wrong side to boot. The Alor showed mercy, even as he sighted in with his sidearm, which had magicked itself into his hand without a conscious thought when he'd been hit. Decades of being shot at had internalized that response. At the last moment, Kaine sighed, and lowered his aim. The return shot winged the young soldier, enough to put him in a medical tent, but not fatal.
Now, back to work. Kaine browsed his weapon selection in his HUD, selecting whistling birds. Then, methodically, he tagged the dozen goons, leaving the militia soldiers alone for now, and made his attack run. Blasterfire came his way as he approached, but the spray of seeker rocket darts did their job, blasting the fireteam clear off the rooftop in most cases. Kaine landed lightly next to the control panel, his sidearm covering the surviving militia recruits, most of whom looked to be young boys and girls, ashen faced, helping their wounded comrade. None of them raised a weapon in his direction, and Kaine shut down the shield after a couple of moments deciphering the control panel.
::Shield is down. Gunship three divert here to secure generator.:: Moments later, a LAAT appeared over the building, freeing Kaine to jet off towards the main target. No sooner had he taken off towards the primary target building than his comm pinged for attention. It was the assault team leader. ::Alor, we need you.:: Kaine wondered what was up. They had enough firepower to deal with anything short of a hidden army. Kelborn didn't leave his boss waiting. ::We've got a bit of a standoff here.:: Osik. That wasn't good. Kaine got his shebs moving, landed on the target building roof, which had been cleared by the assault teams; smoking evidence of their passage lay strewn across the rooftop. Descending into the building, he came up behind his team, who had rifles pointed. Across the room, multiple rifle-toting goons were returning the courtesy. Kaine clapped the General's shoulder as he passed by her and into the room. She was armed, but her service pistol remained holstered. The elephant in the room, a hulking Cragmaloid mercenary, turned to regard the senior Mandalorian as he arrived.
KAINE AUSTRALIS! The merc boomed out. What brings you to this shithole? The tone was that of comradeship, the thought of which disgusted Kaine almost as much as the being who spoke the words. He knew this one.
Craddulus Scheer. The huge elephantine mercenary grinned wide hearing his name. Kaine would have spat for emphasis, but that wasn't sensible when wearing a buy'ce. Kaine thumbed back in the direction of the Rebel General and her local forces. They hired me.
HA! The huge elephantine brute slapped his thigh. That explains why the locals started fucking us in the arse this past while! We were doing good work here.
Kaine grunted. I've seen your work. On Ciutric IV. The Cragmaloid didn't show so much as a modicum of shame. Another point against him in Kaine's eyes.
I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you, Australis. Kaine shook his head. Yeah, don't. Ciutric IV had been horrifying, even to eyes that had seen the length and breadth of the Vongese War. The mercenaries had used gas on the civilians, not any old gas, but a blistering agent that burned skin and lungs.
At that, Craddulus stopped his air of jocular friendly banter and went very still. You got a problem then? Kaine nodded.
The Cragmaloid flexed his large, muscular arms, and rocked his neck back and forth. You want a piece of me? Come on then, my men won't interfere.
Kaine looked back towards the rebel General, as if seeking permission. Though she couldn't see his face, he could see hers. He spoke.
No, they won't. He saw recognition in her eyes, and turned back to face the hulking Scheer.
A series of whizzing pops, and two loud reports came from behind Kaine. The General had her weapon out now, smoking from the two rounds she had expended. The shatterguns of the Mandalorians had done for the rest of the Cragmaloid's goons. The brute stood alone. Kaine unsheathed his beskad, a short bladed weapon, but trusty. It didn't look like much, hardly a fancy weapon, but he would put his life on the line with it against half the ornate or complicated armaments back in his personal Arsenal.
I kill you, your men will kill me. Kaine shook his head. If he takes me down, let him go.
Craddulus unsheathed a two handed vibrosword and came at Kaine, roaring.
This wasn't the smartest idea Kaine had ever had in his life. His opponent was bigger, stronger, younger, and faster. He would have to work very hard to stay alive. So he would. Beskar met vibroblade, and the Australis Alor had to throw all his strength into the block not to have his weapon forced back into his own face. Kad, but the bastard was strong. He knew it too, brutally battering away at the Mandalorian with two handed swings that Kaine could barely meet. One after another, hammer blows rained down on the Mando, who had to give ground to his larger, stronger enemy.
He had to wait for his opportunity. The moment would come. Kaine was playing for time, waiting for the opening that would let him even out this contest. There was no fear, only the focused concentration of the combat; the Australis Alor's mind was free of distractions, focused only on the giant mercenary trying to cut him in half. His blade moved easily, though his arms both screamed in protest at the pounding they were taking trying to block the continuous heavy blows from the Cragmaloid's two handed vibroblade.The arms would break before the beskar did, of that Kaine was sure, though he was less sure he would like the outcome. Kaine saw a ploy that might work to his advantage; something to bring out the overconfidence he wanted to foster in his enemy.
Before the next swing could land, Kaine struck out with a punch, which struck armor plate with a ringing crunch. Craddulus didn't even move. Arms high in preparation to bring down another overhand swing, the Cragmaloid let out a mocking laugh. That pause was what Kaine had been waiting for. He moved as fast as he could. Another ringing crunch brought more laughter. Kaine, having reversed his grip on his beskad, had slammed the short blade home between Scheer's chest plates, and the beskad's point had speared home into the flesh below. The laugh cut off as the Australis Alor ripped the blade free with a shower of blood.
Felt that, did you? Kaine thought. The overhand swing came down, wild and late, and Kaine sidestepped, letting Craddulus lose half a step of balance. Completely out of position, the Cragmaloid was unable to do anything as Kaine stabbed again, this time at a shoulder joint, drawing more blood and a cry of rage and pain from his enemy. Kaine ducked into a crouch, avoiding the wild counterswing which passed over his helmet. Propelling himself upward, Kaine struck a third time, spearing the merc's uninjured shoulder, before diving and rolling away to give himself fighting room. Kaine came up in a fighting stance, spread his hands, tossing the beskad from one hand to another, effecting an air of cocky confidence. Craddulus didn't disappoint, charging back into the fray with a roar.
To Be Concluded...
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
Posts: 1,036
Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Kaine Australis on Apr 23, 2021 7:21:03 GMT -8
Crunch.
Too slow by half, Kaine had time to realise, as he failed to intercept the charge of Craddulus Scheer, a Cragmaloid mercenary that was just now doing his level best to kill the Mandalorian Alor. He was shorter and lighter than his opponent, who had, at the last moment, raised his trunk and snorted blood into Kaine's visor. This disgusting act had served to both distract and blind Kaine just enough to make it nigh impossible to defend himself. For this, he paid severely. The loud crack was worrisome, but the pain and burning in his lower back told Kaine the breaking had been the hardwood desk he'd slammed into, not his spine. For now.
A meaty hand came off the two handed vibrosword lightning quick. The bastard didn't seem slowed by the wounds Kaine had delivered, so much as annoyed by them. The hand grabbed Kaine around the throat and lifted him, before slamming him backward into the broken desk again. This time the noise was shattering glass. The desk wasn't bolted to the floor, and it began to slide backward most unpleasantly. The hand lifted Kaine again, and again slammed him down into the pulverised remains of the desk. Then it let go, but was soon replaced with a boot to Kaine's face. The kick stunned the Alor, and he barely realised he was falling. So was the desk and the window. Out they went, and fell they did.
The fall, mercifully, was only a single storey. Below the window was a mezanine rooftop garden balcony, with potted trees, benches, and a fountain and small pool. Kaine landed on his back in the pool. He didn't move right away, all the air was knocked out of him, and his bell was ringing from the kick. Osik, this isn't good. The old boar thought to himself. Must get moving. Weapon. Dimly, Kaine noted he had managed to keep hold of his beskad. Good. Now he just had to get up. The herculean effort that took made him realise just how old he had gotten.
Second wind did not come easy, but he managed to make himself move. Then a boot came down on his sword arm, pinning it to the bottom of the knee-deep pool. Scheer loomed above Kaine, sword held in both hands. Down it came, and it hurt worse than the boot. The blade speared through armour and into flesh, going right through Kaine's body and into the ferrocrete of the pool, pinning him like a butterfly. Blood began to mingle with the water. Kaine's blood, and far too much for his liking. Scheer's mocking laugh rang in Kaine's ears as the sword came free. The Cragmaloid tossed the broken and useless weapon away, and picked Kaine up by the throat. Kaine's hands came up in a feeble attempt to prevent himself from being throttled. He could feel the gorget being forced inward and into flesh. Weakened as he was, there was no way in hell he was going to force the chakaar's grip free. Seconds ticked by, visor to snout with death. Kaine had one last card to play. Toast. He croaked out, praying the beskar'gam's systems still worked. They did.
The flame projector attached to Kaine's right forearm went off, right in Scheer's face. He did the only thing a being could do in such circumstances, but grabbed both hands to his burned face, dropping his prize. Somehow, Kaine landed on his feet and managed to stay upright. He'd lost his weapon somewhere, probably while trying not to get choked, his dim mind tried to recall before he pushed that away. He had other weapons. Kalik. Growled Kaine, which led to a cough which tasted bloody and hurt too. But the beskargam didn't let him down. He felt the pair of razor sharp Katars lance out from his palms. Still blinded, he lashed out quickly in front of him, left, right, and felt both blows sink into something soft. Scheer's scream was another sign he'd hit something important.
Kaine lost his balance then, and fell, managing not to faint, but in a heap, sitting on his side. He wiped at his visor and saw through the bloody smear that Scheer was in trouble, smoke rising from his head, hands clutched to himself, rolling back and forth and moaning. Kaine felt like the other being looked. Scheer moved as if trying to recover, and Kaine's survival instinct kicked in. Couldn't have that. He did what he could, dragging himself across in two movements. He raised one fist, which wobbled, but the blood-stained katar was poised to strike. The dying Cragmaloid noticed Kaine then.
The tone was plaintive, almost wheedling, Kaine could tell the being was in serious pain. Do it. The mercenary croaked. Kaine hesitated. Half because he was feeling all the injuries himself just then. Seeing Craddulus was out of the fight, his entire body was screaming at him to lie down and go to sleep. Kaine fought that off because of the other half of the reason he was hesitating. This bastard didn't deserve a quick death. He wanted to see him die, and die slow. That would serve some justice for Ciutric IV, at least. Kaine reached for a bacta patch instead, but for himself. He shuffled back out of reach, and propped himself up.
Kill me. Scheer tried again. Kaine spoke, through a cough. He'd made up his mind. Fuck you, you hut'uun. You gassed children.
Those were all the words he was going to waste on this one. He let the begging and cursing wash over him while the Cragmaloid took his time dying. By the time it was over, he'd drawn a crowd. The other Mando'ade were seeing to his wounds and trying to get him up and to a medical facility. Kaine waited for the locals to get a look at Scheer before he let them take him away. Then, and only then, did he let himself pass out.
Later.
The local medical facility wasn't high tech, but it was functional and well able to deal with Kaine's injuries in the short term. Rest was enforced, and after a few days, the doctor relented and allowed visitors. Among the first was the delegation from the new local provisional government. Kaine managed a wan smile as he was introduced to the delegates, including their new interim president; the General he'd befriended.
How did you get them in line? Kaine had to ask, when they were alone.
She smiled down at him. I told them you'd agreed to take a bounty on any of them that obstructed the new government.
Kaine returned the smile, nodding appreciatively. I wish you all the best then, Interim President.
She made for the door. Interim. Lovely word, isn't it. The door whooshed shut behind her.
Kaine had already checked the credit balance for the Clan. The locals had paid in full and on time. Access to the treasury had made that an easy formality. He was happy overall with the work they'd done here. Fulfilled the contract, and ensured some stability was left in their wake. Word would get around, Kaine hoped. Too many more like this and he'd eventually put himself out of business. He coughed. That was a pipe dream. There were too many scumbags out there. The trick was never to stop fighting them.
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Mórrígan Dubh
Member
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Apr 24, 2021 13:09:55 GMT -8
Cruising along through hyperspace a lonely beast came up on what the aged Seanm chi thought was Juvex. O'Rathallie pointed and howled. -O'Rathallie- "Here you amadant! Juvex!" The pilot snapped back: -Pilot- "Are you drunk old man!?! We passed it some time back! " O'Rathallie mumbled: -O'Rathallie- "That is a pickle..... Captain my man would it kill you to get us to Juvex?" The pilot, addressing his co-pilot said: -Pilot- "From here in we are ignoring the old coots directions; Juvex and make like the wind...." Rethinking the idiocy of the tail end of that order he edited himself: -Pilot- "Just turn this puppy around...." The ship did a 360 and headed back on the path it had just taken....
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Twi'leck Triplet Dubh
Member
Pog mo thoin
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Twi'leck Triplet Dubh on Aug 23, 2021 20:27:04 GMT -8
A Firespray-31-class interceptor shot onto the hyperspace highway and burning along like a bag out of Hell. The blue girl, turning a bit purple from fear, asked -Shakk- "Should she be allowed to pilot a sophisticated machine like this? And her sister responded -Alem- "I don't think she should be allowed to handle a TV remote." The two got a hard belly laugh over that but i quickly died -Shakk- "Gid mayb...." Cutting her off the red Twi'leck spoke. Loud - Gid- "Not this shit again. Shakk put a sock in it. And don't even start Alem." And all was quiet . For exactly 3 .43.04379 seconds -Alem- "But...." Teeth baring, and grinding as she spoke -Gid- "I swear on our mother's grave one more word outta either of you and I run this thing into the first heavy freighter I see." And quiet ruled. Looking to her sister with tears in her eyes Shakk opened her mouth to talk but Alem put her right index on her own lips
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Prophet C'thyl
Quarren Dominion
Posts: 303
Affiliation: Quarren Dominion
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Post by Prophet C'thyl on Aug 28, 2021 3:09:43 GMT -8
There seemed to be some semblance of accomplishment in the eyes of the Quarren leader. They had taken down one of the enemy ships while dealing severe damage to a few others. In the end, this wasn’t going to be an easy battle for the Dominion. He would ensure they fought for every inch.
However, despite the small victories they were gaining, they paled in comparison to what the Dominion was achieving. Reports from nearly all ships spoke of hull breaches that lead to Dark monstrosities running rampant throughout the ships. Some damage could even be seen in random explosions from areas that weren’t even hit by turbolaser or flak fire. Many more defeats came in the form of lives loss, leaving many systems unattended, forcing some ships to lessen their assault or keeping the engines or shields going.
There was only a small window in which to make their final stand. It didn’t take much for the warlord to see that despite what started to give them hope was completely shattered as one of the Recuscants began to tear itself apart under the heavy fire of its larger brethren while both MC80bs took heavy damage, dropping their shield to 25% and hull damage showing significant damage. Only the other Recuscant seemed to remain intact enough to truly pose a challenge.
Closing his eyes, he issued new commands. All ship free from combat, turn your attention to the Subjugator and focus all your fire on its main weapons. We will ensure that this beast of a weapon goes down. Under the threats of the looming deaths, the smaller ships that had taken care of their targets moved in to tend to the Subjugator, targeting the main weapon alongside squads of bombers and fighters. The others worked to keep at their targets to allow the opening, but the effect would be small as a few captains fell, though the orders of the warlord held. They would fight until the end and destroy everything they could of the Prophet. Assault on the New Pammant Station - Aftermath
As the defenders grew desperate, the Prophet felt their panic, tasted their fear like honey.
Mercilessly the Dominion Dreadnaughts bombarded the approaching ships, as a good portion of the enemy fleet was in disarray. When the final order of the warlord's high command came, several ships stayed behind, as the monstrosities aboard had either sabotaged vital systems or were even attempting to take over the bridge. Things turned even more upside down, as one of the Munificent-class frigates moved again, setting their target onto the allied ships. Their bridge had fallen to the Dominion's forces, destroying in the process one of it's sister ships.
The Dominion barely cared for their own losses within this battle, as the slaughter unfolded, making even the rest of the ships break. The last remaining enemy Recusant-class vessel was taken down eventually by a Trilobite Assault bomber run, while the Providence-class carrier remained, being forced into a broadside battle with the Zatarusitself.
The Dark was strong this moment, as one of the vessel's officers tried to send the Zatarus a holo message, where they wished to surrender the ship in a mutiny, just if they spared the rest of them. An unlucky victim, that was destined to be a vessel...
Before anyone knew aboard the Quarren's Providence-class bridge what was going on, one of the crew members shot their warlord in a frenzy, urging a small portion of the crew members to follow them. A fight broke out, which was won by those, that remained still loyal towards the resistance against the Dominion... and yet it was a Phyrric victory.
With the ship making an uncontrolled sharp drift those that remained witnessed in horror, as the Shark was turning sideways, it's broadside slowly flanking the New Pammant station. The experimental weapon charged up, as it could be briefly witnessed by some of the remaining Warlord loyalists, before their own ship was blasted away by the merciless shots of the Ashavhatl.
Darkness engulfed for a moment this small edge of the outer galaxy, before only silence remained.
The agony ended, as C'Thyl awakened from his trance.
Only the debris of the enemy spaceships alongside those remnants, that remained of the once massive colony station were the sole reminder of what has happened here. The Quarren warlord's opposition was vanquished.
And with it, the Shark had proven itself as a success. Another key was formed, that would bring forth the destruction of the universe.
All the Prophet had to do was to recalibrate it... for there was more promising technology with which he could equip this death-bringing vessel.
The flaws had to be removed, for it won't take long that people will confuse this vessel with other more prominent ones from the era of the Clone Wars.
The terror they will bring, once the Night Cloak installations are ready, will even surpass the attrocities of the Malevolence... for this future was forseen.
Swiftly the order for the fleet was given to return to Mon Calamari, now that they had dealt with the threat.
Now it was the time to tell the public of the warlord's defeat, given that in their eyes they were already marked as terrorists, that were trying to threaten Dac with a terrible super weapon. Now that this 'super weapon' was obtained and would get 'officially dismantled', the Prophet knew that the time of a Triarchy was over.
With his power solidified there was nothing that could stop him from proclaiming himself as the sole ruler of the Quarren Dominion, a Protector of the galaxy.
For in the end chaos spread within the galaxy would need a Protector of the Prophet's kind...
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Mal Drynlann
Member
Posts: 133
Affiliation: Mandalorian (clan destroyed)
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Post by Mal Drynlann on Feb 12, 2022 20:53:55 GMT -8
Mal's Pelagia gunship blasted through hyperspace. Mal himself was on his back under a command console, doing maintenance on the ship's shield generator. The sound of a ratcheted wrench's metallic crinkle echoed through the ship's common area. Without stopping to look around, Mal called to one of his droids.
"IG-38, will you hurry up those thermal couplings? Im getting tired of holding up the housing's backplate!"
An IG unit assassin droid clanked over to his master, placing the part he needed next to him.
"Apologies sir, it seems this is the last Thermal coupling we have left and its not in good condition."
Mal slid out from under the console halfway, just enough to see the part and grab it. His eyes just barely peaked out from under the bottom of the console to peer at IG-38. The filthy mandalorian wasn't wearing his armor, instead his wore an oil stained, frayed undershirt and baggy sweatpants that were just as dirty. A droplet a sweat dripped from his chin as he spoke.
"We need parts."
"Yes." The droid's eyes rotated around its head as it replied. "We are approaching our destination soon, perhaps you will find parts there."
Mal slowly slid back under the console, resuming his work. "Perhaps..."
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Reyn Australis
The Mandalorian Assembly
Workin
Posts: 58
Affiliation: Clan Australis
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Post by Reyn Australis on Jun 6, 2022 2:43:29 GMT -8
  Red Rocket made like its namesake, as it blasted its way down the Hydian Way through Hyperspace, making best speed to the besieged library world of Obroa-Skai. Reyn Australis, having already forgotten that he'd disobeyed orders to head to the fight, was busying himself by making an inspection of the ship. Troopers, Commandos, Pilots, Crew, all had to be made aware that they were going headlong into danger, and that they'd best be ready for it.
There had been little information on the identity and disposition of enemy forces that would be waiting for them when they arrived. Reyn could only ensure his people were ready to face anything. Without a picture of what was waiting for them, he couldn't make any concrete plans. He could take stock of his many assets, and decide how best they would be deployed.
As he headed to check on the pilots, he was surprised to see that Rancor Squadron was aboard, the Clan's most secret and elite bomber squad. Commanded by his sister Amaranth, they flew state of the art stealth craft, and gave him a nearly perfect first strike weapon. That also meant Amy had sneaked aboard his ship at some point, but he'd worry about that later. For now, he was damned grateful to have them. Along with Rancor Squadron, he commanded two squadrons of Interceptors, two squadrons of heavy fighters, and three of the vaunted droid bombers. His own personal fighter, that he'd stolen from his father, also sat in the hangar.
Next, he took stock of the ship's complement of ground troops. Again here, he was pleased to see he had almost a full load. Five hundred of the Foreign Legion, and almost fifteen hundred commandos. The commandos included five hundred of his own Stormwolves, with detachments of Boarding Commandos, as well as Redbacks, Greenbacks, and some of the Clan's elite Jare'rami'kade. The latter were liable to ignore his orders and do their own thing, but they were so effective, he didn't let that bother him. They all had far more experience than he.
Red Rocket itself was a powerful asset, a well armed and modern cruiser. She wasn't fast or agile, but she was a tough nut to crack, carried a wealth of troops and strike craft, and she was heavily armed. In addition to her primary armaments, she carried missiles and point defence weapons allowing her to protect herself while her strike craft went elsewhere. Normally she would be escorted by a small flotilla, but in her haste to leave Mandalore, she'd come alone, and so she'd be put to the test.
A quick check of the security logs showed an encrypted secure entry above his access level. Aurek-Aurek-7-1-3-1-6. He checked the command code against his personal codebook, and sure enough, it was the A.A. he was looking for. His sister would show herself when it was time to go to work, so he carried on with his duties, ensuring the ship and crew was as ready as could be when they arrived at Obroa-Skai.
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Captain Dice, CT-3949
Member
Posts: 66
Affiliation: N/A; formerly Galactic Republic
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Captain Dice, CT-3949 on Oct 5, 2022 0:41:30 GMT -8
The blaring of klaxons and the sputtering of failing machinery was all that greeted Dice as his eyes flurried open, hands limply grasping at the lightly burnt flooring of the bridge. He gripped the one thing he did find; his S-5 heavy blaster pistol, sourced from Naboo's security forces with wood fashioning and a black metallic length. He had liked Naboo, its perfect blue skies, beautiful and historically rich architecture. It was a sight that visibly showed the clone what they fought for, not the shipyard facilities of Kuat, the artificially induced oceans of Kamino nor the seedy underbelly of soulless, overpopulated Coruscant. There were people in the Republic, people that didn't ask for war, people who sided with the Republic for millennia with confidence that the Republic could protect them.
It was that fact which gave Dice the motivation to get to his feet, restoring one limb to activity at a time. His hearing, once filled only with dull ringing, began to return as well, allowing him to hear a dozen separate requests for orders, status reports and more. He reached for his commlink, and honed in on a single human's voice. "Captain Dice, can you hear this? The blasted Separatists hurt our girl, and bad." It was the voice of Chief Engineer Dahn Veleno, one of the few non-clones on the ship's crew manifest. "Where's Task Force Commander Griggs? Or General Callyon?"
"Griggs was sent to medical bay two, his old heart didn't take a stun round well. The general went down to engineering, to make sure the Seppies couldn't reach the important stuff. Wait a second, if you're at your post, she should be around your location."
A short, tense pause followed. "Ah...ah, e chu ta. Captain, we got an issue. Looks like the general entered the hyperdrive chamber...before the accident. We can't even restore power to its doors. I can get a plasma cutter team on it, but..."
"...I understand, chief. I'll head down there immediately, once I sort out the bridge. Try to not power up the hyperdrive again...I've got a feeling that's what did this to our ship."
"Trading turbolaser fire with a Recusant probably did us no favors either, but aye, sir. Oh, and I'd avoid the turbolifts. You should make the walk manually."
Dice turned back to the myriad of bridge control stations, most of which were manned, though some were beyond use, sparks spewing out from underneath their casing and in the process of being disconnected from the power network. Luckily, the station he wanted was still functional - communications. "To any and all functioning ships in the area, this is Captain Dice of the Galactic Republic, broadcasting from the Star Destroyer Victores. Our ship is in desperate need for help. If you come and aide us, the Republic will properly reimburse and pay you for your troubles. I promise you, this is not a trick or a trap. I repeat..."
Dice turned away from the console, and to one of his clone brethren. "Navigator Mako, the bridge is yours. I've gotta check downstairs." Mako nodded, and the captain left, not holstering his sidearm.
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Once the Clone Captain cleared the initial corridors, a sense of unease washed over him. Many sections were without power, their doors sealed due to emergency lock procedures. Those that failed to seal, however, were lifeless. Clones had long since decomposed aboard the craft, shriveled into ill-smelling husks encased in time-bitten Phase II clone armor, that looked closer to a hundred and twenty years old than two. The beam of a flashlight was the only illumination the chamber received, for no windows meant no starlight. The few B1 battle droids that had gotten this deep into the ship during the fight for the Victores were collapsed into their emergency power saving state - but clearly had been waiting for a recharge for an impossibly long time. Dice did not dismiss the supernatural, his commanding officer was a living, breathing example of true mysticism, but never in his life did he want something to be not real. Because he knew, if ghosts could haunt, they would haunt here. It was like a crypt was teleported aboard his vessel, and he didn't like it. Nor what it implied had happened.
When he reached engineering, it was in disarray. Dozens of engineers strode back and forth, using extinguisher cans and whatever tools they could pry out of half-functioning lockers. Dice fought the urge to help out a squad of troopers and crewmen trying to use leverage and force to open a door to the engineering deck beneath them once he found Veleno. "Chief," he addressed the mechanic. "What are we looking at?"
"Well, I complied a decent analysis on your way down..." he began, handing the Captain a holopad. It displayed a projection of the Victores, with several sections highlighted in yellow, orange and red. "Life support'll function fine. Power might be a different story. Three of the annihilation reactant silos burst during our little mishap, most of their contents are...irrecoverable. One refuses to pump - its safeguards actually worked and didn't spill toxic reactant all over the place. Main reactor isn't too badly damaged, but the pieces that are damaged are vital. If I flip the switch for it, fifty-fifty odds we all go up in smoke, but its a simple repair. Silver linings, I guess."
"What about the secondary reactors?" Dice offered, and Veleno grimaced.
"Both work, thank the Force, but with two out of six reactant silos...if both are on, we'll be depleted in half a month's time. A full month, if we cut back heating and other subsystems to an uncomfortable degree. After that..."
"Out of gas."
"Yep. That also means we don't have enough power for anything beyond the basics. I can launch fighters, have a stable air supply and keep your toes from turning blue, but turbolasers, ion cannons and hyperdrives? No can do, boss."
Dice considered this. It didn't seem like there was any easy way out. Either they burned faster and hoped the hyperdrive wouldn't bust, if it even still worked, or they burn slow, and wait to die unceremoniously. No. He owed the General...the Republic more than such a simple surrender. Clones were tough. He was tough. They'd live, even if he had to carry this ship to the nearest port with a starfighter tug. "You said we can still launch craft?"
"Aye. We've got about a half-squadron of ARC-170s left, kept in reserve due to some armor plating damage in a previous battle. Most of our fighters didn't make the transition with us, unfortunately. Still got enough Z-95s and V-Wings for a proper sortie though, and enough Y-Wings to blow up a Providence. Though if you're thinking about heading out to find help, I'd stick to the ARCs myself. They're built for that sort of task...though I bet you already knew that."
Dice nodded. "Yeah. Any luck getting into the hyperdrive chamber?"
The Captain's question was answered by the groan of parting metal and prideful cheers, and Veleno smiled. "I think we've got a little luck left in us, boss." As the pair entered, along with the support crew who finally managed the doors, Veleno whistled in expected disappointment at the state of the hyperdrives. "I knew they were cutting corners..." he commented to himself, ending his sentence with a long-winded sigh of management pains culminating in preventable stress. "Even when I told them, 'check the hairline fractures on the outer casing,' they did a slapdash job. Just because we ain't Open Circle Fleet doesn't mean we don't deserve the basic services of a spacedock...if we ever see Garaska Station again, boss, I'm asking permission to take one of those Y-Wings out for a Benduday spin."
"Let's focus on fixing what we can instead of bombing Republic spacedocks," Dice reminded him with a similarly annoyed tone, before spotting a gleaming silver cylinder under a haphazard bundle of old, dusty brown robes and a feeble skeleton. The Captain kneeled beside the pile of bones and cloth, considering what was the proper course of action. The respectful course of action. "Ah, hell..." he finally muttered, gingerly peeling off the Jedi's bone fingertips off the lightsaber. He lifted it up, feeling its odd weight. In a moment, he felt two individual connections spring up between himself and the weapon; a desire to honor his Jedi General, to find someone worthy of using it or to have the Jedi Order place it in some ceremonial collection, and a deeper, more esoteric link. It was like words at the tip of one's tongue - both firmly present, and unfortunately absent. Now, he holstered his pistol, leaving the lightsaber hilt in his hand and unignited. As he left to the hangar, none of the repair crew spoke a word. They had enough grief to deal with as it was, and they all felt this loss twice over. Now, Dice was the only true voice of command aboard the near-derelict ship, with no path home and little guarantee they'd see another sky again...
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Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
Posts: 123
Affiliation: The First Order
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Oct 14, 2022 7:40:15 GMT -8
--It wasn't long before Task Force King Sword emerged from hyperspace just outside of sensor range. Good sensors were good sensors, so picking them up the moment they crossed the threshold wouldn't matter if they moved slowly or through hyperspace. Still, it granted a simple peace of mind. Confirming all ships were accounted for and ready, Lucius gave the order to press forward, the imposing Cazador-class Star Destroyer taking the lead. It wasn't long before the ship came into view and scans began in earnest to gather every bit of information that he could.
The closer they came, the better look he had of it. A Venator, much like the director's. And it seemed in rough shape. But there were things that weren't adding up. If any remnants of the Galactic Republic were in fact trying to lay a trap, why damage a ship to such a degree? It was a waste. Sacrificing a damaged ship in battle to gain an advantage was one thing, but not doing so as bait. Unless the ship wasn't truly damaged and just appeared so. Or maybe it had been damaged and just enough life to be made as bait. IT was still to early to tell.
However, what stood out to him was its colors. the coloration and pattern wasn't in line with currently known usage of previous Republic. And it was much more common to see them with newer ships such as Nebulas, Majestics, MC90s, and Starhawks. Every one of them outclassed the Venator. Sure, they still say service, even the First Order made use occasionally. Was it a relic?
Stepping back to the communications officer, he gave new orders.--
"All ships remain on alert. I want ion cannons primed at the bridge and guns focused on the hangars and weapon emplacements. If they make a move, fire without hesitation. I want the Gladiators to extend their gravity wells as far out and as large as possible around us. If other ships intend to jump in, I want them stunned and our sensors catching them first. All fighters are to remain on stand by."
--He then had the channel opened back to the Morningstar. He as to her opinion.--
Director Morningstar, what are your thoughts on the situation? I feel something is off with this ship.
--As they spoke, no immediate hails were made to the Victores, yet the fleet remained a way back and held position. With no fighters being launched, it appeared that their arrival didn't mean hostilities, yet suspicion existed.-- |
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Padrea Malachai
Member
Posts: 29
Affiliation: Hesperidium Institute of Cloning
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Post by Padrea Malachai on Oct 16, 2022 11:22:37 GMT -8
As Malachai's Venator-Class Star Destroyer entered straight to the left of the Taskforce, that was initially escorting her to Dubrillion, scans were ordered immidiately, when the damaged ship in the distance could be seen.
Unlike before, where Malachai had sat idle within the command chair, she was now overlooking various data on the consoles as more and more information was gathered. Clearly they had found another Venator, out there on open field, but most strikingly were the markings and some of the data that was already obtained. With most of the unknown vessel's systems clearly failing, the scanners were picking up ship IDs of smaller crafts, whose designation numbers were faintly familiar. Nowadays a lot of officers would take them as granted, yet Imperial Intelligence had always a keen eye on details like these, as the Director knew from her past training.
And luckily her position as the Director of HI-C, researching her own projects for the protection of the Empire, had also refreshed these memories when it came to past gouvernments, that had been present once within the universe.
As Vasili's transmission arrived, the Director answered the call quickly.
::Director Malachai to Vice Admiral Vasili. Thus far I advice caution until we have tracked more data about the target and observed the situation.
Given our current data this looks like their vessel had suffered from a larger attack, possibly ship-to-ship combat. First guess in terms of the impact areas would be one of the newer ship types or weaponry from the Clone Wars era, that had pierced through their shields.
Various sections damaged, cause unknown, but it grants us some insight on what is aboard. Number of starfighters unknown, but we recieved few IDs. No information of life signs yet, but given the previous squadron that we spotted, I would assume that we're not alone.
Inquire the survivors of who they are and try to contact them on an open frequence. If we don't recieve an answer, we can send a specialist team over to communicate with them.
I have a slight idea with what we might be dealing with here, yet wish to see these thoughts confirmed before we jump to any conclusions. It doesn't take a navy admiral to see, that this could as well be a perfect setup for a trap, so keep an eye out for any approaching ships within the system.
Malachai out.::
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Captain Dice, CT-3949
Member
Posts: 66
Affiliation: N/A; formerly Galactic Republic
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Captain Dice, CT-3949 on Oct 19, 2022 22:50:08 GMT -8
When the various ships of Task Force King Sword and its curious Director attaché arrived close to the aforementioned coordinates, there was no Rebel ambush, no tricks or gutsy pirate raids. It was as stated, to the likely surprise of cynical First Order bridge crew, a broken, battered Star Destroyer. But not any simple Star Destroyer - a Venator-class, original run, still beating the streaks of late Republic red down its central hangar, and the parallel trio of crimson lining its top aft extrusions.
A basic scan would register the vessel as a salvo of turbolaser fire away from a scrap field - melted hull plating, several turrets disabled or even missing, and a hyperdrive signature faint but now absent, indicating its inoperable state. But enough power remained in the old ship, and the central hangar doors began to creak open invitingly.
Curiously, there seemed to be several thousand life forms aboard the ship. It was a nearly fully staffed vessel, adding another piece to the puzzle for the First Order commanders.
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Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
Posts: 123
Affiliation: The First Order
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Oct 25, 2022 5:53:31 GMT -8
--Lucius agreed with the director. Caution was their best asset at present. Still, it couldn't be exercised in a waiting game to see what would transpire. They would have to make the first move. Something the Vice-Admiral was completely ready for. Moving over to the sensor team, he looked over the data that was still coming in. It was clear Malachai was running her own scans, yet he had what was gathered on his end to her. Maybe there was something the other didn't pick up. For now, though, he wanted another set of eyes outside of his fleet and mindset to better ensure all angles were covered and nothing was missed. Like Padrea, he had his own ideas forming, though they seemed unlikely and perhaps impossible. However, until they knew more, every option remained on the table.--
"Open a channel to that ship but leave the channel open with the Director. I want her to have ears on this as well should something catch her attention."
--It was but a moment or two before he was given the thumbs up that a link had been established with the damaged vessel.
Victores, this is Vice-Admiral Lucius Vasili of the First Order. What is the status of your ship and crew? Also, what purpose has put you in the Eastern Territories in such a state? |
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Captain Dice, CT-3949
Member
Posts: 66
Affiliation: N/A; formerly Galactic Republic
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Captain Dice, CT-3949 on Oct 30, 2022 22:53:05 GMT -8
“This is Captain Dice of the Galactic Republic,” he replied confidently, his voice unmistakable to any scholar of recent galactic history. If it was a trap, they had spent a lot of time and money and making it look and sound realistic. “447th Clone Legion. We were ambushed by Separatist forces, escaped and wound up here, near Dubrillion.”
His tone shifted a little, after a short pause. “What I’m more interested in is what exactly the First Order is, and how you got ahold of a Star Destroyer.” He had notably left out the status of his crew and his ship, though the Venator’s critical damage was quite obvious. It was clear that the captain was intent on withholding information, and that his trust had yet to be gained. The doors to the spinal hangar, however, remained open.
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Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
Posts: 123
Affiliation: The First Order
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Nov 5, 2022 5:53:02 GMT -8
--If their was one thing Lucius never doubted, despite how illogical or unlikely it was, was the lengths one would go to achieve victory. So even now, though, as the evidence continued to pile up suggesting otherwise, Lucius still held caution that this was a kind of trap. Still, his hands tightened a bit as Captain Dice's own questions came. Patience began to be tested as the Vice-Admiral opted which path to take. Withhold information as well or give it freely? Which path brought about the best and swiftest approach? After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke.--
As a man of curiously, myself, I understand your desire for answers. Yet, in light of your situation, I would think a man in your rank with put the safety of ship and crew before such things. I am a man of little mercy. If you were an enemy, I would shoot you down without hesitation. However, we are offering you aid. Once the crisis has been adverted, perhaps a meeting with our Emperor can be arranged to give you the answers you seek. I'm certain he would more than be interested in your story as well.
--Thus far, Dice and the situation of the ship and story suggested of an impossible, or rather unlikely, possibility. Still not fully disbelieving a trap, curiosity was more than high as to this new likelihood. And if he truly didn't know of the First Order, he knew not of Coruscant. News best left for later once all had been handled.-- |
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Captain Dice, CT-3949
Member
Posts: 66
Affiliation: N/A; formerly Galactic Republic
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Captain Dice, CT-3949 on Nov 6, 2022 23:56:50 GMT -8
“I’m not threatening you, Vice Admiral. But I do like to know where I am. I’ll accept help, but I won’t if it means you slip a blaster behind my back. I take it you’re on edge because of the war, and I can’t blame you. We don’t need to be hostile, and you’re right, I do have to consider my people before any pride. But I won’t march them into a trap. I’m sure we can work out a way to gain some mutual trust. Say I send over a delegation and you send over replacement parts? If you have a better idea, I’d be up to hear it.”
Dice was only this kind because he was desperate, and silently he found himself cursing his circumstances. If his ship had full functionality, then he’d be in a position to demand some answers. But it wasn’t, and while he didn’t trust this Lucius Vasili and his quite possibly stolen pair of Star Destroyers, he was also not in a position to refuse any help.
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Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
Posts: 123
Affiliation: The First Order
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Nov 15, 2022 7:06:30 GMT -8
--A silent scoff came at the mention that the Vice-Admiral wasn't being threatened. The current situation certainly didn't bring about any sense of a threat, at least from the crippled star destroyer. And should the Venator been fully operational, he wouldn't haven't given it much thought. He had an understanding of the ship's capabilities and he was more than confident that even a single one of his Victory III's had the power to overwhelm the old Republic ship. And even with all his fighters, he might not have outnumbered what a Venator could carry, he was certain his held superiority.
But even now, Dice refused to give the simple answer Lucius sought, seeking his own before all else. It continued to test Vasili's patience, yet there was a bit of admiration for the man. Despite the state of his ship, no telling the condition of his crew, he continued to press for answers to the situation even when he should put their safety before all else, even at the risk of a trap. Taking a breath, the Vice-Admiral focused himself as he thought to respond. After a moment, he decided to give the Captain what he desired. What he would state would be common knowledge within the galaxy anyway. A small smirk crossed his face as he was curious as to the man's response.--
Very well. Since you refuse to take no for an answer, I'll tell you what you wish to know. The First Order is the dominating power within the galaxy. Over half the known worlds within wave our banner. The Galactic Alliance, or Republic if you so wish, is our enemy. Or any remnants of it, that is, as the First Order brought it to its knees and scattered it to the winds quite some time ago. The current war, if you would call it that, is in the death throws as we will soon see the Corellian Coalition as a memory doomed to fade from existence. Considering that, claiming yourself as aligned with the Galactic Republic in our territory is far from a smart move. I, myself, wouldn't hesitate to blast you in bits and move along with my day. However, I feel there is more to you and yours than one might expect, hence why I'm willing to offer aid and a chance to speak with the Emperor on Coruscant. If you wish to deny help in light of these answers, by all means. Good luck finding aid as word will be put out to ignore your hails and entering any orbit will have you destroyed. And should any pirates happen to be in our area, I'm sure you can already guess where that will end up. --A smirk grew across his features as he took a moment of pause before continuing.-- So, would you like our aid or not? |
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Captain Dice, CT-3949
Member
Posts: 66
Affiliation: N/A; formerly Galactic Republic
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Captain Dice, CT-3949 on Nov 23, 2022 3:30:02 GMT -8
Dice’s head spun. The implications - how’d the Jedi let this happen? What had happened to the Grand Army of the Republic? - were almost too much to handle. Perhaps he could try to send all his troopers at the other ship, try to capture it and run. He’d be at a total disadvantage in all combat situations, Dice knew. Either he found himself a silver tongue, or he put himself and his crew in the hands of fate. “I accept your offer, Vice Admiral.” But despite his words, Dice was far from trusting of Vasili. He’d continue to station trooper squads near the main hangar, ready for a surprise firefight. He gripped his general’s saber hilt, and felt it’s cool metallic touch through his black combat gloves.
“Wish you were here…” he muttered as the hangar bay finished its preparations for guests. They needed the help, but he wasn’t going to let a stranger match his people off his ship in shackles.
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