Envoy HQ, Arx Minor
Marick had become increasingly concerned over the intel reports coming from the INQ and several of the Brotherhoods clans over the past few months about the Pyke Syndicates increasingly disruptive endevours. Now, agents had uncovered information that suggested that the erstwhile spice peddling megacartel had actually begun cozying up to the Collective. Something would have to be done. Since the Pykes had known, active operations in several sectors adjacent to the patchwork of territories that the Brotherhood controlled, Marick realized he had a Golden Envoy on staff who would be the perfect candidate to plan the Brotherhoods response.
He tapped out a quick message, attached the relevent intel folder to it and sent it off.
Bridge, Corra VI
Reece was on duty piloting the vessel in formation through Hyperspace along with the rest of the Ascendant Outreach Corps. His thin triple jointed metallic armatures manipulating the controls with the ease to be expected from a nearly 70 year old R3 droid. Karracca, the vessels new Captain(though Kalen was still the ‘owner’) just so happened to be checking the status of their new back-up shield generator at one of the rear auxiliary consoles when a message for him came in.
“Reeeeeew! Message for you big guy, from some big wig named Marick.” The droid beep booped sarcastically.
Karracca turned slowly from the panel board he had been studying. He’d been on staff with the Envoy Corps for nearly 3 years now, and this was the first time the Exarch had ever directly sent him a message. Most of his correspondences had been, up to this point, through Bronet mails.
“Send it to my datalink.” The massive rotund wookie replied.
High Councillor’s Quarters Jedi Praxeum, Kiast
Mihoshi Keibatsu, the current High Councillor or Odan-Urr, sat staring out the window high above the Praxeum. Noviates and Padawans trained in the courtyards far below, classes were attended through each of the floors of the large building, meditation rooms and cafeterias were sprinkled throughout those areas and she was apparently in charge of it all.
Sometimes, she wondered what her brothers thought of her new home, wondered if there was any sage advice they might offer.
On the desk behind her sat reports that she was rather carefully ignoring. “If I let them, I think they’d end up burying me in all the paperwork that seems to generate overnight.”
The small BD droid did a little dance on the desk, shuffling around the datapads and actual sheaves of paper.
<<You should really try to get this done before something comes in to distract you again.>>
“I really didn’t ask you, Pips,” she said to the droid.
<<But, you know it’s true.>>
“I’m certainly hoping so. Then we can make Wulfram deal with all of this.”
In the shadow of the doorway a figure in majority black with subtle silver accents leaned against the frame watching the interaction. “ Lady Keibatsu…if my mother saw your disorganization…” the woman clicked her tongue, her lilting accented voice floated into the chamber,“ she’d have had your behind, then stood, staring until it was sorted and then the desktop shone so much your reflection would look like a droid.”
It was a hair hard to discern, but there was in fact amusement there. She pushed off her perch before taking a couple steps forward, far enough away to respectfully avoid reading any of the reports. Anytime she entered the office she took off her electronics, loath as she was to take them off, she still did so as a matter of trust.
“I came to report on the hand to hand you are having me teach, a couple of them are taking to it pretty quickly. One is causing trouble, but I can’t particularly blame them.”
Aurelis’s gaze was drawn to the edge of the table littered with datapads and…paper? A small light flashed underneath a small haphazard stack hanging somewhat precariously over the edge.“ You have a new message coming in.” she said pointing to the unit hiding underneath the pile.
Corra VI, Captains Quarters
Like all the other spaces aboard the Defender class light corvette, the room was cozy but not overly cramped. The furniture was functional and utilitarian without being spartan, it had a desk, sofa, wall mounted vid screen, wardrobe, and a king sized bed that just barely accommodated the nearly 7 and a half foot tall wookie.
Karracca had asked Reece to join him after he realized the scale and scope of operation the Exarch wanted him to plan. After one of the Ugnaughts had relieved him on the bridge, the green and white veteran R3 droid rolled himself into the room.
“So, what you need boss? Got some secret assignment and need me to take over as the Captain?” He beeped out.
“No, bigger then that actually. Get a load of this.” Karracca said as he transmitted the data from Maricks message directly to Reece’s transciever.
“Pheeeeeeeew!” Reece let out a long whistling sound, instantly realizing what the wookie had just had land on his plate.
“Yeah, and the Exarch wants us to hit as many of the targets on that list as we can. And he wants it done in about a week.” The Jedi Knight, and former Order, Rebellion, Alliance, and New Republic Strategist said.
“These targets are spread all over the length and breadth of the galaxy big guy. That’s not alot of time. What kind of military assets you got available for this?” Reece asked as he began a full analysis of the contents of the Intel folder that had been attached to the message.
“Right now, we got us, the Urbanae, a couple Lancers and a flight of Lambda class shuttles. Marick mentioned we could probably count on a few companies of assault troops from the Iron Legion to help take care of the target near Arx itself. But from what I gather, we’ll be relying on the clans themselves to provide the muscle for most of this.” The wookie said.
“So, we need the various clans of the Brotherhood to all work together and have a chance at pulling it off?” Came the beeping reply.
“Maybe not…”
Karracca sat silent for a few moments, contemplating the conundrums.
As a not entirely novel idea began forming, he grunted and then chuckled.
“Perhaps we rely on the clans pursuing there own best interests. Lets have a look at that target list again, can you plot them all on a map, and highligh all the ones within a 50 light years radius around any clans territory.
"Done and done. 16 targets meet that criterion.” Reece projected the image into the middle of the room using his holovid emitter.
The wookie smiled “That’s more then half the list right there.”
Over the next few hours Karracca and Reece came up with a workable, wide ranging, and extremely ambitious military operation. The plan was to strike all 16 targets at the exact same time, with the biggest cluster of targets all within range of Clan Odan-Urr’s sphere of influence, though each clan had atleast 1 major target of the Syndicate that they would be responsible for.
“We’ll see if the boss likes it.” The wookie growled as he sent a copy of the operational plan back to Marick for approval.
High Councillor’s Quarters Jedi Praxeum, Kiast
“If this is a bad time, I can come back.”
The voice was accompanied by the metallic thud of armoured boots and scrape of a staff rhythmically striking the ground. A second later and a figure clad in arterial red warplate decorated with kraken imagery stepped into the room, helmet respectfully held in one hand and an ornate spear clasped loosely in the other. The Nautolan’s head turned, obsidian black eyes first regarding the High Councillor and then at Phaelor, before bowing to Mihoshi.
“The latest group of Jensaarai have arrived to take their oaths. The process shouldn’t take long, but it can be halted if the courtyard is being reserved for any other duties.”
Rhan didn’t bother to add “and I came here in person as I never get an answer when send in a report”. The growing mountain range of paperwork occupying the office desk spoke for itself.
Training Room Jedi Praxeum, Kiast
“I can forgive lacking in knowledge or practice or technique or lacking the body development as of this time. But not trying… Tries my patience, I admit, sir.”
The Padawan reached again for the athletic Jedi and found his arm pushed up at the elbow, the Jedi ducking his attempted grasp and wrapping his arms around the young padawan’s waist in a powerful bear hug from behind.
“Don’t reach so much and keep the elbows down. Much like how in punching the elbows protect the body from blows, they prevent someone from grappling you this close and now…”
Ryan Hawkins lifted in the beginnings of a suplex causing a hell of fright from the Padawan before instead of finishing the suplex he gently set him down.
“You know. Wrestling can be a difficult thing. Sentients created weapons to keep someone away, after all. But if your opponent is armored and all you have are your hands, it is easier to throw and lock their joints than to trust you are strong enough to kick through plasteel or Beskar. Especially if you so not focus your studies on unarmed combat.”
Ryan released the hold and patted the Padawan on the back.
“I don’t expect mastery, or even speed or athleticism right now. Try. Give effort. Elbows in, hands active, stance low. Breathe, and…”
Ryan regarded the heavy breathing of the Padawan and instead of issuing the command to “Wrestle” and begin another bout, he thought the better of it.
“Go get some water, take a half hour to meditate and stretch and internalize the lessons. We’ll have you up to speed for hand to hand combat lessons soon enough.”
Back on the Corra VI, near Aliso
Mere moments after sending their omnibus set of ops orders to the Exarch, Reece called Karracca on the intercom and informed him that Kalen was calling in from the Bright Light.
“Patch it through.” The wookie churled as Kalens face popped up on the vidscreen on the wall.
“So, I got a nerf run for you and the boys. Aside from the 2 assault landers that the Legion Platoon brought with them, we don’t have and shuttles or skiffs that are capable of any serious amount of cargo hauling, and we got about 150 tons of relief supplies that need to be ferried planetside when we arrive.”
“Karracca and Co. Logistics Corp to the rescue?” The wookie growled snidely, intonating that he was wondering if that would be the name of Kalens next business entity.
“Pretty much. We’ll load most of it only the Katnip, but there will still be about 40 tons left for to get down there. We wanna get this done in one shot and move on if possible. I’ve already reached out to the planetary authorities and they’ve given us coordinates of where to deliver the supplies, I’ll send them over to Reece in a second.” Kalen reclined slightly in his ergonomically and luxurious desk chair.
“Sounds good. Just a heads up, the Exarch has got me working on something that might end up coming back around in the form of an Envoy Corps communique and an extra tasking for us, figured I give you a heads up since my names all over it.” The old wookie dropped himself on his sofa with the springs creaking under the strains of his 450lbs.
“Works for me…Oh, I was going to say, why don’t you dock with us in orbit after you drop off the supplies and come aboard, I’d like to chat with you about that thing I offered to help Treel sort out, you can fill me in on this Envoy thing too. If you’re okay with leaving Reece in charge for a few hours.” Kalen smiled.
“I’m not against leaving him at the conn…and he is definitely all good with being in charge.”
“He still acting a bit wacky?” The Jedi asked. Any R3 droid who hadn’t had any of his memory chips wiped in over a quarter century was bound to be a bit on the zaney side, but Reece was starting to show clear signs of processor degradation and ‘humanoid associative dysfunctions’(when a droid begins to adopt too many mannerisms, ethical subroutines and even personality traits from the humanoids around it).
“A bit, he’s been alot more coherent and less ornery since I ordered him to defrag himself and self delete a bunch of useless jargon, files, and coding from his primary memory circuits. He’d been running with less then 10% available capacity on his primary chip for over a decade apparently, the defrag and clean-up got him below 70% now, so he’s…better. He’s even got the Ugnaughts to agree to do more then just man the guns, definitely nice to have a few relief pilots and a competent engineer. My days of crawling through ducts and engine guts, will hopefully remain behind me now.” Karracca reported from the couch as he layed there, one massive leg sprawled over the edge of the cushion.
“He still slagging on D all the time?” Kalen asked, feeling a bit of empathy for his well meaning but hopelessly awkward and anxious protocol droid.
“Oh yeah, that won’t change. Reece takes the typical astromech sense of superiority and disdain for 3PO’s to a whole new level.”
“Well bring him with you when you come aboard then. I’ll put him to work on the Bright Light. Oh, get this, I’ve got a Corps Clerk, for, you know, all the paperwork and whatnot, nice kid, I’ll have D help him out.” The Jedi Ranger ran his hand through his noticeably thinning hair.
“Sounds good. Just let us know when and where you want us for this cargo drop, and I’ll see you after we’re done.” The wookie growled a yawned, and after the usual pleasantries they closed the comm channel, allowing the 3 century old silverback to quickly slip into a well deserved nap.
Ricmore’s Regal Repository Desert Planet Korus, Zsoldos System
Logistics wins wars. It was a commonly held belief among those who were trained to engage in large scale conflict. It was an axiom that Hector Von Ricmore subscribed to.
Several years ago, he had witnessed the issues that could occur when the Clans stretched themselves thin operating throughout unmapped space. Problems seemed to pop up on every corner, and Arx was not always a convenient distance from where trouble was taking place. He had taken it upon himself to become a middleman between the massive Brotherhood supply lines and the area of Vizsla space, the Zsoldos system. He had established a small store and ressuply area, Ricmore’s Regal Repository, in the deserts of Korus. It was there where he spent most of his days.
The Serpent currently found himself hunched over a data pad connected to a terminal. Said terminal sat within his newly purchased vehicle, a tracked Occupier tank. Hector had made some, how should he say, unstandard modifications to the vehicle. To assist it with loading and carrying cargo, a large crane arm had been attached to the cargo bed located in the rear of the vessel. A terminal inside allowed for remote control of the equipment from the safety of the tank’s cockpit. The operator could use a series of exterior cameras to direct the crane to grab and drop off cargo.
That was if the setup worked of course.
But that is why he was testing it before any field deployment.
Having tripple checked the code for any errors, he booted up the terminal. All of the cameras appeared to be in working order. He could see his shop and the desert around it. The cameras rotated in time with the terminal, no issues or delays.
That was good. Very good.
Then it was time to test the crane itself. Entering a command into the terminal he waited two seconds before the crane arm shifted to the right. The Serpent frowned and tried a different command. The crane shifted back to the left. He went through a myriad of tests. The results were the same each time. The crane would operate. It could move, open and close the arm, and be lowered and raised at will. But there was a delay with an average of 1.5 seconds.
This was not ideal. But it was something he could work with for now as long as he kept the delay in mind. His modification was new, he had expected it to take time to work out the bugs and issues.
Envoy Corps HQ, Arx Minor
Marick smiled and shook his head in disbelief at the set of ops orders he had received back from Karracca. He had expected the wookie to pick 3 or 4 targets from the list of 29 targets and send a little message to the Pykes. But the old strategist had selected a series of 16 targets all near Brotherhood holdings, and proposed to strike all of them simultaneously. It was an audacious operation, but one that was easily doable if they got the needed support from the various clans. It was also very likely to cripple or at least severely degrade the Pykes’ operations in and around every clan’s sphere of influence, at least in the short term.
Marick approved the plan, then sent the requests for support for ‘Operation Starshell’ to each of the Consuls of the Brotherhood as well as the various Envoy Corps assets that would be employed. The Urbanae would ferry some Iron Legion troops to take care of the target nearest to Arx itself. 2 of the Runners would be sent with data discs containing encrypted copies of the plans and deliver them to Clans Vizsla and Taldryan, because the Brotherhood was aware of 2 advanced listening posts that the Pyke’s operated near the respective territories and didn’t want to risk sending them over the comm channels, even coded.
As it happened the 2 LPs were also on the target list. Clans Plagueis, Arcona, Scholea Palatinae and Naga Sadow would also have major targets to strike. But Clan Odan-Urr would have the lions share, 5 targets in all, including a main Pyke hideout where they operated a casino complex as front for their smuggling and distribution operations as well as a nearby spice storage facility and a series of 3 safehouses in neighboring systems.
The Exarch was about to shut down his terminal when he stopped himself, and accessed Golden Envoy Karracca’s personnel record. He vaguely remembered when the old wookie joined the Envoy Corps early on in his tenure as Exarch. And he just now recalled a conversation from that day that was no longer as innocuous as it had seemed-
Flashback
“I mean, sure, put him on staff. He’s already served with the Emissary’s cadre…but I’m not sure what use we’ll have for an old obese wookie Jedi Order dropout and former celebrity pro wrestler.” Marick mused as he accepted the application on his datalink.
Like many people who were born after the Battle of Yavin, Karracca was mostly known for his highly publicized appearances on the Celebrity Charity Wrestling shows that were popular on the holonets and ran annually for several years in the middle to late teens ABY. Though veterans of the Battle of Exegol might recognize him as the leader of a contingent of a wookies operating a small squadron of DP20 gunships, his pedigree and long standing notoriety as a master strategist and military planner tracing as far back as the Battle of Forlingor in 204 BBY had faded into the mists of history or had disappeared entirely due to the comparative brevity of many species lifespans.
The Runner Treen cawwed lightly, before letting out a quick hoot, “Don’t let appearances mislead you milord. My uncle told me a few stories about that old fat wookie when I was a mere nestling. He was also an Under-Secretary in the New Republic’s Ministry of Defense in its early years, if memory serves. You should look up his Jedi Order, and New Republic service records.”
“Is that so?” Marick had replied absently as his mind had already moved on to other more pressing topics at the time.
End of flashback
Marick then belatedly followed Adept Treen’s suggestion, and pulled up Karracca’s Jedi, Rebel Alliance, and New Republic service records and personnel files. His eyes widened as he took a few moments to read the long lists of postings, billets, appointments, decorations and accolades of the nearly 300 year old silverback wookie. He quickly added a permanent notation at the top of Karracca’s Brotherhood personnel file that said “Veteran strategist and military theorist, expert large scale operational planner” and turned off his terminal with a contented grin on his face.
High Councillor’s Chamber
Miho looked from Aurelis to Rhan, back to Aurelis and then the cheerfully flashing datapad. “The courtyard is fine for the Jensaarai recruits, Rhan.”
She picked up the pad, reading the message with a single eyebrow raised.
*Urgent Request:
The Pyke Syndicate has been found to be assisting the Collective and been increasingly disruptive of Brotherhood operations.
Request for assistance from Odan-Urr for the following targets.*
The list was impressive. A casino, a storage facility and several safehouses disrespectfully close to the Kiast system.
“Ladies, please excuse me for a moment,” she said moving to the holoterminal against one wall. Two figures appeared before her, one in modified Clone armor and the other in a Naval uniform.
“Admiral,” she snapped. “Prepare the Second Fleet for departure. We have a little bit of housekeeping to do.”
The figure in Naval dress bowed again then disappeared as Miho turned to the Marine commander. “Commander, prepare the First for an extended campaign. Full weaponry approved.”
Miho – no – The High Councillor turned back to the two women standing in her office. “Urgent request for aid. Rhan, get your Jensaarai sorted then report to me aboard the Dawnblade. Aurelis, find anyone you can and have them meet us at the spaceport.”
Gone were the traces of the young woman who would rather shirk her duties in the company of close friends and in her place stood someone with the force of will to be High Councillor. “The Collective is making friends and we’re going to smash them.”
Mihoshi grabbed Kurotsubaki from the wall mount it rested in and stormed out of the office. She was getting more than a little tired of the Collective and the Pykes were going to feel the weight of it.
<@186977617356783616> <@326457564994994176>
Training Room Jedi Praxeum, Kiast
Ryan Hawkins checked his comms while he waited for his student to return and saw an urgent summons going up for Odan Urr’s military forces to prepare for formation and inspection. He audibly sighed and called out to his waiting student.
“We are done for the day, I need to attend to a Clan matter. Your homework is squats, wall sits, and dive bomber push-ups like we discussed. Of the many holds you will learn in Wruushi, conditioning is the best one.”
Corridors near the High Councilor’s Office
Hawkins was now clad in Katarn-class clone commando armor, armored and ready for action with his helmet under his arm. His two lightsabers sat on his right hip beside one another as he moved at a purposeful walk to begin seeing to preparations.
He was also quite curious as to the parameters of the mission and whether this was an Odanite mission or one called by the Brotherhood as a whole.
High Councilor’s Office Jedi Praxeum, Kiast
‘Find anyone you can…’ that’s what she’d said, aside from the High Councilor and maybe 2 others, if that, that’s all she knew for sure. The rest of her interactions amounted to trainees willing to learn an unusual form of martial art for this age. Aurelis gave a single sharp nod and turned on her heel in a precise military manner. She passed Rhan as the door slid open, letting it close behind her.
Hallway
Outside the door she paused and picked up a number of items from a table just outside of the office, her comm and the other electronics she’d deposited before entering. She stuck them back into their places and started down the hall. Ryan Hawkins was coming from the opposite direction, her dark green eyes flashed to his and she gave a subtle nod of acknowledgement. She hadn’t been around long, and generally talked to not many but she recognized a few faces even if she had no names to put them to. Her steps on the floor were near silent, though she wasn’t directly trying to be stealthy. Time to find those few someones who had far more contacts than herself.
(( <@396777566754832398>))
Ricmore’s Regal Repository Desert Planet Korus, Zsoldos System
The roar of an engine distracted the serpentine figure from his work. Looking into the sky, he witnessed a Lancer Class Pursuit Vessel descending towards one of the landing pads outside his shop.
A Lancer. Now that was a fine vessel. Say what you would about the Black Sun being manipulators and deceitful, they sure knew how to commission a great ship.
The starship landed atop the platform and released its ramp to the ground below. A feminine human with purple and pink hair made her way down the ramp and onto the planet’s surface. The figure began making her way towards the shop, practically skipping with the sheer amount of energy in her steps. Had she not been human, the Serpent witnessing the action would have expected her to start vibrating in place, defying geometry and physics.
“Ricky, Ricky, Ricmore! How’s it hanging?”
Hector Von Ricmore stared at the newcomer, completely nonplussed. That was quite a bit of energy and enthusiasm, even for him.
“Got a package for you from the Envoy Corps. Standard encryption data disk. You know the operating procedure right? Of course you do, you’ve been doing this long enough. Well, you see, the thing is, we’ll be mobilizing for something big real soon. Give the disk a look and you’ll see.”
Hector took a moment to process the influx of words from the fast talking and cheerful human. He gave a nod in acknowledgment.
“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Name’s Mava, but you can call me Six. It’s a real pleasure to meet you Hector!”
The woman looked to her wrist, checking a chrono.
“Look at the time. I’ve got places to visit, people to see. I’ll be seeing ya real soon Ricmore!”
The woman shouted the last part as she ran back up the ramp of the ship. The ramp retracted and the vessel lifted off, traveling to yet another Brotherhood location.
‘What a bizarre encounter’ Hector mused to himself. The woman certainly had some excitement. ‘If she traveled all this way to hand deliver a data disk, it was probably important,’ he thought.
With the item in hand he made his way back into the shop. He needed a secure location to inspect its contents.
Bridge Corra VI
Karracca had just set the fully loaded ship down on an austere landing pad at the edge of a hastily assembled refugee camp on Gator II. It was the smaller of the 2 primary camps set up in the wake of the natural disaster and as expected the needy displaced folks began to emerge from their shanty’s, tents and makeshift shelters as soon as theu touched down. The 40 tons of supplies, including nearly 10 tons of emergency rations(which would be enough to feed the camps 2000 inhabitants for roughly a week or so) were supposed to be delivered to the camps government appointed “Coordinator” who had told Reece to just unloading the cargo right on the tarmac of the landing pad, as it would all be immediately distributed.
Just as he was about to place the ships systems on standby mode and go and check on the situation outside, his commlink chirped. It was a message from the Exarch, informing him that OP Starshell had been approved, in full, and he was being assigned as the Envoy Corps Liason for the sweeping offensive against the Pykes.
The wookie moaned in dismay initially, he didn’t mind planning the operation, but serving as the liason on something of this scale seemed like a gigantic hassle thst would severely limit his oppotunities for naps.
But as he read the details of what his role would entail it didn’t seem to onerous after all. All he had to do was double check with the various clans and ensure that they were capable of dealing with their targets and on schedule. Simple right?
Hallway
Ryan Hawkins nodded to Aurelis with a slight smile, his own blue eyes shining slightly in the artificial light. He recognized her somewhat from a distance and she at least seemed to care about what he valued: hand to hand combat. He did not remember if she ever attended one of the large Wruushi classes he held or was in the training room when he was unraveling the kicking differences between K'thri and Corellian kickboxing, but nonetheless despite his face blindness she seemed familiar. Well. May as well ask.
“I assume you may know more about what is going on than I do. I was ordered to arm up and report.”
His voice was a pleasant, tenor, one laced with a touch of nervousness whether about mission or socializing.
“Ryan Hawkins, by the way.”
<@186977617356783616>
Hallway
Her steps stopped as she turned and looked at the Jedi, she did in fact know this man from around the temple teaching other classes for hand-to-hand combat. When she spoke her voice was laced with distance, and bore a thick Imperial Accent. “ Aurelis Phaelor.” she said simply at first.
“The High Councilor has called for the Fleets to be summoned. Rahn is gathering her people, I am grabbing others to meet at the spaceport as soon as possible.” she added,“ I am not of a clearance to know the details.”
She paused for a short moment,“ I am heading to the quartermaster before going to port.” she turned but looked back over her shoulder for a moment,“ High Councilor is likely in a meeting before going to the port herself.”
<@396777566754832398>
High Councillor’s Quarters Jedi Praxeum, Kiast
Miho had barely finished before Rhan gave a typical salute, closed first across her breastplate, and was already heading for the door. Giving a nod to Phraelor as she departed, she disappeared into the corridor, passing swiftly by an approaching figure in armour from the time of the Clone Wars. Retracing her route back to the courtyard, and she reached out telepathically to those she had left waiting below. One answered her, with blunted thoughts and hardened psyche which stood out like a unmoving stone among boiling sea of more curious minds.
“Blade Breaker?”
Rhan almost laughed at the unexpected use of her unwanted title. It was swiftly becoming a moniker she would never escape, despite her protestations.
“Vancel, are the Initiates still with you?”
“Of course. We’re awaiting your return to begin the oaths-”
“The oaths will have to be delayed. We have a more pressing matter. Gather together any Defender or Initiate on site, and send word to any Enclave a day’s flight from us. They are to join us either here or on the Dawnblade in high orbit. Tell them to be ready for a protected campaign.”
Vancel bristled, confusion giving way to cautious hostility.
“It will be done, Blade Breaker. Is it the Children of Mortis?”
Rhan’s focus shifted briefly, sidestepping a gaggle of Padawans exiting a turbolift. Then, entered it herself, Rhan thumbed the key sending the lift down.
“An older enemy. One perfect for a trial by fire. I’ll be joining you shortly.” Rhan broadcast a single icon before she closed the telepathic link between them, and felt Vancel’s thoughts give way to excitement. A circled icon of three pillars. One they had last seen on ships busy reducing Arx’s cities to molten ruin from high orbit.
Even with no love lost between Kiast’s Jensaarai and the Dark Council, there was a score to be settled. It was going to be quite the educational experience for their latest generation of recruits.
Three hours later…
Dawnblade - Carrack-Class Cruiser High Orbit Kiast
As the Dawnblade prepared for war, claxons blaring and crewmen racing to prepare the ship for departure, a small section of the hold had become isolated from the disciplined hive of activity. Few crew had approached them, and those who did were met by the cloying scent of incense and saltwater, with a constant chant overriding even the commands booming from the ship’s internal loudspeakers.
Four groups of warriors knelt, eyes forward and preparing themselves. Most were dressed in pale white combat armour, but in ones and twos among each of them were warriors in heavy baroque plating. Stepping among them, swaying incense held on chains, were a pair of sable armoured giants. Each spoke in a continuous chant, daubing each kneeling figure in a mixture of paint and water taken from Trepus’ shores.
Standing to one side, decorations already applied to her crimson warplate, Rhan watched with mixed emotions. The ritual, a tradition of the local Sephi of their home region, had been adopted with enthusiasm by her kind; a sign that they had fully adapted to their new lives. Yet she had hoped to see more.
Twenty-eight had been brought from the Praxeum. A mere sixteen were to join them on such short notice, and few among either were ranking Defenders.
“Most are now bound to promises of their own, or loyalties to other houses,” Vancel spoke. “We were lucky to get this many on such short notice.”
Like Rhan he had gone bareheaded, blunted features and black tattoos on green skin marking him as a Mirialan. He managed a smile, apparently sensing the flash of irritation. “I didn’t need to read your thoughts. I have the same concerns.”
“Good to know,” Rhan said, shaking her head. “Do you have anything more enlightening to say?”
“The High Councillor will likely expect us to act as shock troops, and open the way for any others.” Vancel said, then indicated groups of Odanite soldiers on the other side of the hold. “If we can work with heavy firepower, and keep pace with them, we should win any engagement without too many losses.”
“I’ll need you to coordinate with them then,” Rhan said, nodding her agreement. She’d expected an objection an was thankful when none came. Like most of the first group of Defenders, Vancel had sought out the Jensaarai when his manifesting Force potential had begun to ruin his life. Once a rising star in the Vatali Royal Guard, outbursts of telekinetic energy and lightning had cut short his career. He had been forced into isolation until others had trained him to control his power. With Essik now long dead, he was the closest they had to a skilled strategist and leader; two critical areas Rhan fell far short in, despite her role in training many of their number.
“You know her better than I, do you think the High Councillor has anything more detailed in mind?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Rhan said, watching as the pre-combat rituals came to an end. The group’s accompanying medical and weapons maintenance droids moved into place as the Jensaarai stood up, and the rituals began anew with them. “We’ll fight and we’ll win, or we’ll fight and we’ll die. Same as usual.”
“That,” Vancel said, with a snort of genuine laughter, “is why I’m the strategist and you’re the artificer.”
*Bridge, *Corra VI **
It had been 14 hours straight, working the comms, checking with all the clans to make sure they were. 14 hours without a drop of alcohol, and more importantly 14 hours without his obligatory nap.
In the end only the Vizslans needed some extra cajoling, and even then, as soon as Karracca had mentioned that they could keep any vessels, cash, weapons or drugs they seized from the Pykes, they too were instantly onboard and would be sending a ground force under Hector Ricmore to take out their assigned target, which happened to be hideout and stash built deep into the side of a cliff face under a mountain. CSP, and CNS had both rerouted squadrons that were on patrol near their targets anyway. Clans Arcona and Taldryan had diverted capital ships to deal with their singular targets. Meanswhile Clan Odan-Urr was mobilizing an entire Fleet and a full Legion to hit their cluster.
“I’m going my quarters. Wake me up at 0200 if I’m not back by then Reece.” Said as he stood up and slowly stretched before letting out a wookie sized yawn.
“Aye aye big guy.” The astromech tooted before using his jump thrusters to plop himself into the pilots seat.
Dawnblade
Ryan Hawkins carefully inspected his armor to make sure everything was moving smoothly and in good condition. Katarn-class armor aged well and it provided the perfect balance of heavy protection and mobility. He left the inspection of the troops to their NCOs as he focused on waiting for orders from above. Once a sense of the objective for the unit was in hand, a tactical plan could be formulated.
Until then, he ensured his lightsabers were both secure to his side. Between his armor and his skill at Soresu, he was usually quite difficult to wound, especially by blaster wielding foes. So he intended to take the van on the tactical level if tasked with assault.
*Zero Hour, *Bright Light **
Karracca had decided to remain on the Flagship before the mini fleet made the final jump into the target system. Reece had complained about never getting a chance to be in charge for any of the ‘fun parts’, so the old wookie strategist and diplomat let the plucky emancipated astromech command the Corra VI for its portion of the assault on the Syndicate complex.
Kalen had even offered the giant Golden Envoy the use of the ships small intelligence/planning centre that was located directly behind the bridge of the Pelta class Frigate. 30 minutes prior to the designated time of 0330 Galactic Standard Time(GST), he had received confirmation that all the assigned assets from around the Brotherhood were ready to proceed. With a steady, gigantic, chubby and fur covered finger, he pressed the button that sent out the pre-designated codeword that confirmed that Operation Starshell was a go. Over the next half hour, across the known galaxy, fighters, ships, landers and various other military assets of the half dozen clans that were taking part in the series of strikes began maneuvering to hit their targets at precisely the same moment.
At their location, the Banshee and a flight of 4 RZ-2 Mark 3 A-Wings would drop out of Hyperspace at 0327h and made their initial strike on the distribution hub primary shield generator, while the Bright Light, Corra and Katnip would drop out of Hyperspace at 0328h and then proceed to make the main strike on the various different stations and facilities of the Pyke complex once the shield generator had been knocked out. Taranae would launch in her TIE fighter, and move to quickly destroy the drug cartels long range communication relay, hopefully preventing the Pyke’s from sending out any warning or calls for support.
Hormaiea 3, Near Vizslan territory
Teyush, the leader of his cell of the Pyke Syndicate, had his morning ritual of enjoying a cup of caf and a walk along the cliff edge above his ‘secret’ hideout interrupted by the sight of a Squadron of Fang fighters escorting a group of Gamma-class ATR-6 assault landers, one with an armoured vehicle of some sort slingshot underneath it, along with a flight of Aka'jor-class shuttles.
He watched, in shock, as the landers and shuttles put themselves down in a small defile formed by bed of a bend in a long dried up river, less then a kilometre away from the large landing bay that served as the entrance to the facility at the base of the cliff.
Apparently loading error that had caused him to have to delay shipping his next load of high grade Spice was going to be the least of his troubles today. He activated the commlink on his wrist.
“Lock down the base, close the Hangar doors, and bring all our defensive systems online…have Luhtch wake up the Gammorean guards.”
“Which Gammorean guards?” A slightly confused underling asked.
“All of them.” Teyush replied as he took one final sip from his mug before hurling it, and any remaining liquid against the nearby rockface. As the ceramic mug shattered and the fragments fell on the ground, Teyush turned his head in time to see a formation of of Fang fighters streak towards him and begin opening fire on the various, half heartedly camoflauged, weapon emplacements.
At the dried riverbed
Warrant Officer Kort Hargal steadied his ATR-6 assault lander into a hover above the wadi. He opened a channel to the TX-225 GAV tank that they were carrying.
“Mortal Coil, this is Crusher 3, standby for landing sequence and sling release.” The pilot also activated the signal light in the rear cabin that would let the 30-odd soldiers from one of the Frostwolf Platoons know that they’d be landing in 1 minute.
<@476595775187451913>
“Mortal Coil. Ready for drop.”
Serpentine eyes watched the drop light eagerly. He and the crew of the Occupier assault tank were strapped in and ready. In addition to the regular crew a backup pilot sat alongside him; prepared to take the controls if Hector Von Ricmore had to deploy from the vehicle.
The ATR-6 drifted down above the ground. The signal light turned green.
With a metallic Thunk the magnetic clamp released, placing the Occupier tank onto the ground.
“We’re the vanguard ladies and gents. Let’s get rolling.”
The Mortal Coil began its forward assault, track rolling along the ground.
Twin Dual Laser Cannons hurled a cacophony of red bolts towards the hostile landing bay. The shots weren’t made with particular precision, not from that distance. But they would hopefully serve to slow the enemy’s ability to deploy or fight back; giving the Frostwolf Company valuable time to establish a proper landing zone.
ODN Dawnblade Kiast System, Nilgaard Sector
Miho stood on the command deck of the Dawnblade, looking at the sector map that had been forwarded from Envoy Karracca. Several key locations were highlighted on the board as she studied it. Tactics was not one of her strong suits so she decided that they might as well be bold.
Her voice spoke within the minds of those around her, falling into the habits of her family during conflicts. ”We have orders from the Exarch to neutralize several locations where the Pyke Syndicate has bases. They have been supplying the Collective and we are called to make sure those shipments never make it.” She grinned sort of wolfishly. ”Anything we take, we can keep. And we’ve got half a dozen targets to neutralize including what appears to be a casino.”
Miho touched the sector map and it rose and tilted ninety degrees, presenting a flat map before them in the air above the terminal. Her mind reached out and brushed against Aurelis Phaelor and Ryan Hawkins, sharp instruments, good tools for surgical strikes. Two of the targets began to glow with a soft blue color. ”These are yours. You are assigned the First and Fourth Regiments to neutralize these safehouses. Casualties are expected, confiscate everything.”
Another section lit up red and her mind brushed against that of Nikora Rhan, the Jensaarai leader onboard. ”Rhan and her allies will take the Second Regiment to neutralize the storage facility.”
The final location lit up green as she reached out and lifted Kurotsubaki from the counter, her mind reaching out once more and finding Jon Silvon in the lower decks. ”I will be taking the Casino with the Third Regiment and a guest hiding in the engine room.”
Her voice sounded only within Jon’s mind. ”I trust this meets with your approval.” And then she was gone, not expecting an answer but simply expecting it to be done.
She looked at each face in turn, her violet eyes harder than gemstones. ”You have your orders. Operations will commence as soon as you arrive at your appointed targets. No confirmations needed, total annihilation authorized.”
Miho touched the terminal again and the sector map with the assignments was instantly forwarded to all of her commanders. The High Councilor would accept nothing less than complete and total success.
<@186977617356783616> <@230809550297497600> <@396777566754832398> <@326457564994994176>
Hormaiea, Dried River Bed
Captain Zorda Mykos was the second in command of the Frostwolves, and had been with the unit since its formation. A no sense 15 year veteran from Corulag who had risen from ranks. He was almost universally recognized as a part of the heart and soul of the special missions company, and would be in charge of setting up a perimeter for the LZ, establishing support by fire positions for the heavy weapons systems they had brought along, and any casevac or ammo resupply that would be required.
“Get those heavy repeaters up on both flanks. We’ll set our casually collection point there, against the wall of the wadi.” He said calmly to the weapons squad and senior medic respectively.
Mykos took a second to around at the situation. The CO was already deploying his 3 small assualt platoons for the strike against the mountain base. The CO looked in his direction and wved him over to a where he had setup an adhoc command post.
“Sir?” Mykos said after jogging over.
“Looks like they’ve buttoned up and we’ll have to do a hard breach. I’d like to send a lander with a squad of our demo guy up to the top of that cliff. One of our snipers saw a guy standing up there and them head down some sort of tunnel. Can you send some of your shooters with them to add some more firepower?”
“Yes sir. Torna, Brice, Haplet! On me!” He shouted to 3 of the carbine blaster repeater armed members of weapons squad.
“We’re sending you up to the top of that cliff with one of the demolitions teams….they’re all yours.” Mykos said to the 3 before addressing the CO.
High Atmosphere Pyke Storage Facility
The sound of rolling thunder beyond the LAAT’s armoured walls had become an unceasing drumbeat, as the gunship dropped like a stone through the atmosphere. The blackened interior was lit only by the dull blue of datapads, as soldiers checked the combat site one final time. Soon enough the air would be filled with the screams of gunfire and dying men, and the air would be reeking of ozone of blaster exchanges.
Rhan wondered if the others were already in battle now. She had left the meeting with only a salute to the High Councillor and a wish of “good hunting” to the others. There had been little else to say. By any estimate, at least from what Vancel had cited as he coordinated with the Second’s Commanders, the environment was a tactician’s dream. No non-combatants, no infrastructure to preserve, and nothing to escort through a warzone.
The gunship lurched, so violently that the hull groaned slightly from the abrupt atmospheric disturbance. A soldier seated opposite Rhan, barely out of the academy from their expression, looked about the interior with fearful eyes.
“You’re sure they don’t know we’re here? This isn’t AA fire, is it?”
That made Rhan laugh, cutting through the pre-combat nerves.
“If there were enough guns shooting up at us to be this loud? We wouldn’t be here long enough to worry about it.”
The lightning storm, however much it might have shaken some nerves, was doing its job. Opting to hit the Pykes cold and fast, the Second’s transports drifted into orbit on minimal power. Then, spotting the storm rolling in from the west over the facility, they had dropped that LAATs directly into the maelstrom now blinding both the gunships and any planetside sensors. Rhan was about to point out this fact when the gunship’s intercom buzzed into activity.
“Hard landing in two minutes,” the pilot’s voice issued from an speaker. “Make final prep now, and may the Force be with you.”
Near target system
“Drug smugglers?”
“Yep. And they’ve got a shield so we can’t take them out from orbit.”
“Sounds like last time. Want to see if the Blades can infiltrate?”
“ They provide a distraction, we have another team take out the shield, then destroy the place?”
“I’ll lead the demo team.” Blackhawk said.
“Try to do it somewhat quietly? I’ll wait with the rest of the fleet for your signal and jump in when you’re done.”
“No promises.” Blackhawk replied with a chuckle.
Aurelis’s express remained hard as the High Councillor addressed them. She pulled her holo of the map gave a sharp nod and turned on her heel, pulling a comm unit from her clothing, where she produced it from was anyone’s guess. “ Fourth Regiment to Hangar 4.” she stepped into the elevator and directed it down into the hangars. Walking with purpose towards her directed room. When she arrived she drew aside the Regiment’s command, opening the holo map. “This is our target, ransack, no quarter. Preliminary scans show 2 buildings, one appears to be administration, the other a warehouse. Squad 4 is to take out security, once that’s cleared 3 squads infiltrate the warehouse from the north side and secure it, do not allow anyone out, to get communication to administration or sound any alarms. Squads 1 and 2,” she looked between the requisite Lieutenants.“ Will accompany me into administration after warehouse gives the all clear. Take out personell, and extract data. Cargo will then be moved to transport before the administration building is completely demolished. We do this quick and quiet, in and out in less than 2 hours.” The staff quickly seperated to their assigned squads to relay instructions. She boarded the transport while this was finalized and gave the coordinates to the pilot with initial instructions for orbit and additional scans. The troops boarded and once all squads had checked in Aurelis gave the pilot a nod and he raised the transport signalling their departure.
High Atmosphere Pyke Storage Facility
The sudden lurch of the LAAT gunship took Rhan by surprise, the moment paired with a warning whisper from the Force. Grabbing onto the overhead bar, she felt the ship bank hard and then drop into an abrupt dive. The clatter of objects previously clutched in the the hands of the waiting troopers and surprised yells was accompanied by an all too familiar scream emanating through the gunship’s bulkheads. Blood thundering in her skull, Rhan’s muscles tensed as she fought to hold herself in place, awkwardly turning to try and peer through a vision slit just behind her head. Still marred by the heavy downpour of the storm, Rhan’s lidless eyes widened in shock as she caught sight of the colossus hovering below them.
Lurking just above their target was a vessel a hundred metres in length and coloured in funerial black. A scythe-prowed wedge of armoured durasteel, lances of furious red bolts were spitting out from turrets at its sides as it rose up toward the incoming gunships. Rhan could already feel more power being shunted into its weapons, and the half-seen phantom of shields coming online. The LAAT shook again, two shots all but skimming the hull. The gunship behind them bucked as it was struck, a scar of black smoke trailing from one engine as it entered a barely controlled dive.
Vancel? Rhan reached out through the Force, finding the other Defender’s mind. How in the nine hells did we miss that?
The storm blinded us to it, just as it hid us from them, Vancel’s response came, loud and carrying a tinge of controlled fury. The sithspawned thing was probably taking on cargo. Close enough to the ground for us to think it was another building.
The other LAATs were breaking hard, pulling away in a maelstrom of screaming engines and return fire as they sought to evade the Hammerhead corvette now turning to oppose them. The deck beneath Rhan shuddered from another near miss, and her helmet struck the wall behind her with the sound of a temple bell. Gritting her teeth, Rhan shook her head, focus returning.
Well we’ve lost the element of surprise. She said, looking out at the corvette. It was rising up from the facility and risking the tempest in pursuit of the gunships. Rhan was reminded of an oceanic predator testing the shallows as it herded prey. And we can’t run with that thing chasing us into the storm. Stick to the planned landing sites, we’ll join you as soon as we kill that thing.
There was a rare pause from Vancel as he realised what she was intending.
Make them bleed, Blade Breaker.
The link between them had barely been severed as Rhan rose, almost immediately being thrown from her feet as the gunship shuddered again. She hammered one armoured gauntlet on the door between them.
“Pilot, bring us around on the port side of that monster! Get ready to shoot as soon as you see its guns fall silent!”
“Acknowledged!” the voice answered, long lessons of discipline audibly clashing with common sense as he heard her words.
Rhan turned and readied herself next to one of the sliding doors. Most of the gunship’s other occupants were hurrying, preparing themselves for sudden exposure to the thundering downpour. Rhan noticed the younger trooper she had spoken with before looking at her in bewilderment.
“We’re going to shoot it down?”
“No,” Rhan said, grinning inside her helmet. “We’re about to board it.”
Rhan activated the release mechanism on the gunship’s door, the noise of its hydraulics lost as the vessels interior was exposed to the insanity of the skies outside. The already loud thunder of the storm was deafening, echoing across the landscape. Every moment between it was filled with the scream of plasma exchanges and ion engines pushed to their limit; cannons from the corvette firing relentlessly into the skies above. Two of the gunships had already been lost, one trailing fire abandoned as its occupants risked a grav-chute drop into enemy territory, the other craft she had seen before disappearing somewhere below them. They were close enough to the Hammerhead that Rhan could feel the energized thoughts of the crew within, surprise and excitement at the thought of battle.
Probing each mind in question, Rhan kept testing each until she found the few at its mechanical core who were focused upon mechanical matters. Power relays, outputs, engine stability. Concentrated and pragmatic minds with more interest in keeping the ship operational over a tally of kills or racing through the heavens. With a swift motion Rhan reached out her hand and, concentrating on one source they were keenly interested in, closed it in a crushing motion.
Those same thoughts shifted first into confusion and then blind panic. Energy levels dropped as flames sparked up about energy linkages and the thundering heart of the Hammerhead stuttered and then died. The people surrounding it were still screaming blame at one another as the vessel’s turrets went silent, and the particle shields guarding it sputtered and died out.
“Make sure it can’t fire again!” someone behind Rhan yelled. She was certain the gunship’s pilot couldn’t hear them, but trio of missiles screamed out from above them, striking the slab side of the ship multiple times. The first two struck hit the armour plating, with their explosions bursting outward. The last was met with a throaty roar of a chain reaction. Metal warped as something exploded, bursting out in a birthing of twisted fire and metal, tearing free turrets on their side.
“That’s our way in! Take prisoners if they yield, but take no chances!” Rhan barked. Her orders were followed by the sound of several igniting lightsabers.
The gunship pulled alongside the gap, fighting to keep level with the now reeling corvette, as several Jensaarai hurtled themselves across the gap. A moment later and the other troopers joined them, hookshots carrying them over the space between the craft. Rhan was the last inside, fighting to keep the vessel’s main reactor in a choking grip for a few moments longer. She landed on the edge of what had once been the deck of a gunnery room, warped and twisted by the explosion, with burning metal hissing in the downpour. Only once their gunship had peeled away, joining those now landing about the facility below, did she release her powers.
Screams and explosions were coming from somewhere further within, along with the tell-tale laughter of Jensaarai having found a worthwhile challenge. Still grinning, Rhan unhooked Stormherald from the metal clasps on her back, and thumbed the activation stud on the lightsaber pike. This was going to be a fight to remember.
Pyke Warehouse Compound 1100 hours
“Atmosphere break in five.” came the announcement from the pilot of the transport. To many onlookers, the ship appeared to enter too fast, and perhaps it was. However, that is why Aurelis had chosen this transport because of all tactics known of military operations, she much preferred swift and efficient. The assembled troopers braced themselves against the walls or handholds, as the ship entered the atmosphere, it lurched slightly, followed by the telltale rumble as the blaze of air raked across the hull. Even with the slight shaking Aurelis approached the cockpit, installing a dataspike into a console, giving the ship instructions to perform a ground scan as far, far above the surface they passed the compound so fast anyone looking up would miss the transports passing. The ship's speed rendered the scan unstable, yet sufficient.
“ Three drop sites, one squad to the east five klicks out, two squads seven klicks to the north, the rest to be dropped eight klicks southwest. Stay low, stay slow, we don’t need them detecting you before we move in.” Aurelis explained as she highlighted the positions on the fuzzy map. The dropship circled the moon as Aurelis stepped back into the main body of the ship. “ Here’s the plan, squad four will be dropped to the east, your job is to take out the core of the surrounding security. Squads three, five and six will come in from the north to handle the warehouse, keep damage to the cargo minimal, no survivors. one and two you are with me, except for squad three everyone waits ten minutes before moving in.”
“ Dropsite One approaching.” the pilot announced. “ You heard him, squad three get ready to disembark.”
While most of the troopers had their helmets on the rest nodded, did last checks and secured armor. The ship steadied and the hatch opened. The five members of squad three jumped out about five feet off the ground and disappeared into the treeline. The hatch remained open while the ship lifted, maneuvering backwards and staying a scant seven feet above the canopy. Hovering for a second before making its way around the compound’s perimeter to the northern side.
“Dropsite Two.” came the announcement. Aurelius, holding onto an overhead handhold gave the nod, the three assigned squads hopped out of the ship, they had a farther drop as there was no clearing to go lower. They vanished into the trees to set up a rally point before their 10 minute timer started.
Rather than rising, the ship shifted sideways, keeping the compound in sight in the distance, it swept over the treetops farther out, again no clearing.
“Dropsite Three.” Aurelis stepped into the cockpit for a second. “ We will plant a beacon when its time for extraction.” “Roger that.”
Aurelis gave a quick nod and went back with the rest, squad one had already disembarked and two was waiting on her. She double-checked the placement of the blaster pistol and several knives on her person, then stepped into the opening, scanning the canopy, watching the movement of the leaves as she picked her moment. She was not in heavy armor like the troopers and had to be more cautious of her landing point. There, she swivelled and hopped out of the hatch while facing the ship. Her boots landed on a thick branch about half way down. Following that, she stepped out, reaching the ground. One was in the wings, and as soon as Aurelis cleared out of the landing zone two followed her to the forest floor.
Aurelis looked up, through the thick leaves she could see the hatch close and the ship move off away from the compound to await their signal in low orbit.
Aurelis looked around her at the two Sergeants and 10 troopers,” Now we wait.”
The Glorious Purpose - Hammerhead Corvette Pyke Storage Facility
The thunder of armoured boots was accompanied by the typical sounds of battle. Laughter, cheering, blaster fire, and the hiss of plasma blades parting flesh. The halls of the Glorious Purpose had become rapidly tarnished with blaster exchanges, as the Odanites had forced their way through any token resistance they had come across. Behind them they left only silence and the few unconscious crewmen intelligent enough to recognise a losing battle when they saw one.
Rhan didn’t want to admit it, but this was proving to be far easier than she had ever expected. As they advanced forward, moving as a single entity with the Jensaarai at the fore and troopers covering their backs, she had been surprised at the lack of heavier equipment. The last group hadn’t even opted to fight, dropping their guns at the sight of lightsabers. They had swiftly turned tail and locked themselves behind a shielded blast door.
“We don’t have the numbers to take them all alive,” one of the troopers said to Rhan, a doughy woman wearing a Sergeant’s colours by the name of Sevas. “Or the ship if they have even half a normal crew compliment.”
“That’s not the plan,” Rhan replied.
“We have a plan?”
Ignoring the comment, Rhan reached out and tested the Force again. She could feel the panicked minds of other beings across the ship, now increasingly concentrated in a few areas. Most were clustered about the vessel’s neck, a short walk from the ship’s prow. More than enough to guard the bridge against any concentrated push, and likely overwhelm them with raw numbers. Instead, Rhan had been following the same route she had picked out before.
“Here,” she indicated a point in the floor. “Breaching charges.”
The troopers complied with little hesitation, placing down several white rectangles marked with blinking detonators on a seam between deck plating. At Rhan’s indication, the group kept adding more until the small pile had rapidly become a broadly placed pyramid of shaped explosives. With a nod the group retreated back up the corridor and around the corner, bracing themselves for what came next.
There was an almost imperceptible bleep of activation, followed by a sheer wall of noise and kinetic force which ripped its way past them. The walls seemed to flex under the sudden stress, pipes ruptured, and electronics tore themselves apart in a sunburst of sparking energy. Where the charges had once been was a gaping maw of jagged metal leading directly onto the level below. With a yell, Rhan stormed forward, diving into the breach and whatever awaited them.
In the weeks that followed, Rhan would reflect on the chaos the played out, both in a mixture of pride and disappointment in having pulled the stunt. It was the sort of near-suicidal foolhardiness Tarvitz had been known for, breaking the rules of war almost as fast as it did enemy lines. As she plunged through the smoke, descent slowed by the Force, Rhan had just enough time to catch sight of the room below; terrified faces looking up at them from amid banks of control consoles, and behind them the roaring and shuddering reactor burning with the energy of a newborn star. A handful of blaster bolts impacted on the ceiling about Rhan, hastily aimed and missing entirely.
With something between a clang and a thud she landed between two Pykes, quickly bludgeoning one across the head with the haft of Stormherald while the other dived for cover. On the opposite side of the room, what was no doubt the group’s leader was yelling something and raising a carbine. Rhan gestured, and the squat missile launcher attached to her back unhooked itself and hovered in the air next to her.
“Stand still so I can shoot you!” she barked, making a gesture and activating the launcher’s loading mechanism. Rhan had long found that something more aggressive than “Hands up!” tended to cut through combat adrenaline. As the others joined her, some landing in the same manner, others abseiling down via hookshots, most of the Pykes were already in the process of surrendering.
“Right, round them up, disarm them, the put them in any stun-cuffs left we have,” Rhan said, indicating the Pykes before looking at the controls “Does anyone know how to work this?”
A Jensaarai wearing the white battlesuit of an Initiate raised his hand. “I served on a cargo freighter like this several cycles back. What do you need?”
Rhan indicated the controls, stepping aside for him as he looked over the display of blinking lights and activation levers. “Xarn, isn’t it? Cut the power by one fifth, and if there’s a comlink please patch me through to the bridge.”
Some of the troopers gave her worried looks, but most stayed silent as the Xarn carried out the order. The noise of the reactor, a background him which had been softly causing Rhan’s armour to shake as she stood, dulled slightly, taking on a lower pitch. He flipped another dial and then pointed at the speaker.
“To the unfortunate sons of nerfs who made themselves our enemies,” Rhan said, initially intending to put on some bravado but deciding to keep her voice at a calm level tone instead. “We have taken your engine room. We’re shutting down the reactor at a rate of five percent every thirty seconds. You can either try to land softly, or we land violently once gravity drags us back to the surface.” She paused a few moments, letting the words sink in before adding her finishing statement. “Try to storm the engine room and I will put a missile into the main reactor. Think fast.”
She turned the dial back the other way, closing their communications. Rhan nodded her thanks to Xarn as he began lowering the reactor’s output, and turned to the others. There was a telling difference in the mindset of the two groups. Most of the Jensaarai, even with their features hidden in helms, were nonplussed by this turn of events. The troopers had a more varied mix of reactions, from sheer terror to looking at Rhan as if she were mad.
“What if they call your bluff?” Sergeant Sevas asked.
“Then you and your squad take the bridge while we keep them distracted, throwing everything they can at us,” Rhan shrugged. “Or I actually shoot that thing. I’ve not decided yet.”
In the end, sanity prevailed and the Glorious Purpose descended unevenly from the heavens. Landing with a hard impact which spoke more of desperate fear than careful precision, scraping paint from the underside of its prow. When the cargo ramp lowered, the now handcuffed crew marching down into the rain, escorted by the significantly smaller Odanite boarding team, they were met by a small but heavily armed crowd.
“So, what did we miss?” Rhan said brightly, nodding an informal greeting at Vancel. His plating was marked by carbon scoring and what looked distinctly like the blackened sheen of being exposed to flame.
“The Pykes were well armed but disorganised,” Vancel answered, indicating a cluster of cargo crates some distance from the corvette. “They weren’t expecting a fight. We took anyone of worth alive, along with anyone smart enough to surrender. They’re being held in there.”
Behind them there was the bellow of ion engines and loud yell of orders being issued. Gunships were landing now, the pilots making flights to and from the orbiting ships as they brought in the other two battalions to sweep and hold the surrounding area. With most of the fighting done, it would just be a case of mopping up the area and stripping anything of worth from the site.
“Any casualties?” Rhan asked, stepping aside as the Hammerhead’s crew were led away, toward an open cargo crate.
“Four in one LAAT crash. From the battle - three wounded, one dead,” Vancel said grimly. “Someone had time to rig one of the side doors to the main operations centre with a proximity mine. We were lucky not to lose more.”
Rhan silently agreed, watching as the area before them was rapidly swamped within Odanite soldiers fanning out across the facility.
“Then let us just hope the others were this lucky.”
“This is First Actual, prepare to breach”
Ryan remained positioned to the front of his squad, the breaching charges already rigged to the door as he sounded over the radio and a stack of armored Odan-Urr forces waited behind.
“All squads in position, sir.”
His communications operator communicated to him quietly, monitoring the radio traffic from the other elements of the regiment. He could sense that the forces inside were on alert and it was likely that main entrances were covered. This one would be dealt with via his skill with Soresu dealing with any frontal blaster fire. Other squads would ingress via Windows or blowing holes in the building to avoid prepared enemy emplacements or firing lanes on main entrances.
“First Actual. Breach, flash and clear on go-code Omicron.”
He considered further if there were any other contingencies. He retained their landing craft as nearby assets for close air support to prevent elements from other Pyke positions rushing to support this site in the event that other attacks failed. Enemy AA assets or fast movers appeared to be lacking in this area and control of the skies allowed their infiltration and exfiltration vehicles serve as fire support. He readied his lightsabers in his hands.
“Omicron.”
He said it plainly but the punctuation on his words was a loud bang which annihilated the door in front of him and the simultaneous bangs and crashed and blaster fire of other breaching squads. He surged through the door as his blue lightsabers flared into being with snapping hisses, deflecting automatic blaster fire as he charged forward. A blaster was sliced in half and before the second half could the floor he followed with a bone crushing side kick driving his heel into the defender’s solar plexus. His lightsabers whirled around him, defending his squad and once they had breached and taken cover, himself. Occasionally a blade would find a weapon or a limb and occasionally his boots would find a shin or a rib or even a skull.
Violence of action was the key to the mission and in his body and blades he was a microcosm of the concept. He was violence and action.
** Bright Light, Pyke Complex near Ga'tor**
The old obese wookie stood in the centre of the planning and operation centre directly behind the bridge of the Pelta class frigate. He and the small operations staff were busy compiling the reports from the various different operations. Due to some of the distance involved, he wouldn’t know how well the operation went for atleast another day or so. But fron what they had heard so far. It was going well, the Odanites appeared to have brought nearly half of their military to the Kiast system, and Clan’s Naga Sadow and Scholae Palatinae has both destroyed their and withdrawal already, and it was barely 0415h, less then an hour into the operation.
The attack against the distribution hub they were currently engaging, near the Confederation of Outer Worlds member planet Ga'tor, appeared to have caught the Pykes entirely by suprise. The transfer station, comms relay and storage facility had all be completely obliterated and Zuser Whuloc and a Platoon of special forces were currently securing the contents of the Hangar bay on the moon below them.
“Hmmm. They’ll probably want payback for this.” One of the operations officer commented from across the large map table.
“They may, but we’ll be on guard for exactly that. Any word from the Vizlans or the task force near Arx?” Karracca asked in Shyriwook. To which D-3PO dutifully translated.
“Not yet Master Jedi, even hyper comms will take atleast 9 or 10 hours to reach us from there.” One of the comms techs replied, to which Karracca turned his head to look at young woman. It wasn’t common for anyone under 40 to even know that Karracca had been a Jedi, and he had never been named a Master, so the reference out of place a priori.
Karracca growled at the young woman.
“Ewww, uh. Golden Envoy Karracca wishes to know if he knows you, Petty Officer.” The protocol droid relayed.
“Thats not what I said.” Karraca roared at D.
“No, but you met my father once on Tralus, sir.”
“Hmmmph.” Karracca groaned, as he recalled negotiating the surrender of an Imperial garrison a few months after the second death star had been destroyed.
“He said you were the first Rebel who had ever earned his respect.” The young petty officer recalled.
Karracca recalled that many of the 4000 people he spared that day went on to take part in the New Republics amnesty program. He hung his head slightly as he realized how far they had fallen from the ideals he had fought for in the Alliance and New Republic. It was a much more fractured and cutthroat galaxy then it had been just 3 decades before.
Hormaiea, Dried River Bed
Hector Von Ricmore spared a second to glance at the tactical display in front of him.
The Frostwolves had landed safely and secured the landing zone. An ad hoc field hospital was being assembled, and snipers on the high ground were being dealt with.
A shudder shook the vehicle as a bolt from an enemy blaster cannon impacted the frontal armor of the Occupier tank.
Right. They had problems of their own.
As the tank continued to rumble ahead, the Serpentine tank commander addressed its occupants. ”We’re as good as dead if we stay on the firing line and trade shots with the defenders. Keep on moving, don’t stop for anything.”
Streaks of red travelled between the tank and the top of the cliff wall. Clan Vizsla Fang Fighters swooped down from the sky, delivering explosive payloads and strafing the ground with their lasers.
This did wonderfully in allowing the tank to advance largely uncontested. But no plan was perfect, and no plan survived contact with the enemy.
A Pyke soldier, garbed in leather shredded from shrapnel and covered in blood and grime, crawled through the dust and dirt on the cliff side. Cradled in his hands was his one hope of making a difference, a rocket launcher with a high explosive payload.
The Weequay’s eyes scanned the diving fighters. They were moving too fast for him to target properly. Blood rolled down his face from a cut on his forehead. His eyes stung from the liquid and the dirt in the air.
He kept low, crawling and scraping against the ground. A massive explosion shook him, causing him to fumble. But he kept his grip on the weapon.
Turning his head, he saw smoke rising from the remnants of the partially camouflaged sniper nest.
Shame. They would have been a help.
His stinging eyes turned back to the battle and he saw his target. Rumbling rapidly towards the base was an armored tank; and he had the tool to deal with it. He only had one shot, so he had to be smart about it.
Daring to raise himself to a crouch, the Weequay aimed his weapon. With the pull of a trigger, the rocket shot forth, leaving behind a stream of exhaust. The warhead slammed into the right tread of the tank, exploding and tearing the metal from the track. The vehicle forcefully decelerated, jostling the occupants inside. The chassis was still intact, but with damage like that the vehicle was not moving anywhere.
“Alright. Let’s disembark.”
Hector hit a button on his control panel and activated the escape hatch of the tank. The metal remained stubbornly closed and a sharp scraping noise echoed through the vehicle.
”Damn thing’s stuck. Give me a moment.”
Drawing a lightsaber from his belt, the arctic blue glow filled the interior. He jabbed the blade into the side of the tank and began to carve away the metal in a circle. Once it finished, the metal fell to the ground, creating an impromptu doorway.
”Everyone out, go go go!”
The Serpent slithered forward, the crew not far behind him. They plastered themselves against the metallic side of the tank. The occasional blaster bolt impacted the side of the vehicle but it was clear that most of their enemies were tied up elsewhere.
Yellow eyes glanced towards their objective, the closed and defended hangar door. It was still a few hundred meters away. A mad dash across the open would be putting themselves at risk. And that was if they could even open it in time.
His eyes caught on the crane attached to his vehicle.
Hector couldn’t get the tank moving again, at least not without some time to work on the treads. But he still had one card to play in this game.
He closed his eyes and felt himself connect to the galaxy around him. Life surrounded him. Beings of all types, vibrant emotions, and the fading, sickening silence of sentients being cut down and passing on.
A common adage filled his mind.
Size matters not.
And so he reached. He yearned. He connected.
With a shriek of noise the metal connections of the crane began to grind against one another. The structure tore itself free from the tank and began floating towards the hangar door. Streaks of red, blue, green and purple impacted the floating arm as it moved closer and closer to its objective.
Hector grit his teeth at the exertion as he marshaled his strength. The floating object gained momentum and was hurled against the hangar door. The crane arm smashed through the upper part of the door. Then its massive weight forced the structure down, tearing the door off its hinges and causing it to fall forward.
The Serpent found himself taking gulps of air. He took a minute to catch his breath and then addressed the crew.
”Give me some time to catch my breath. Then we’ll follow our allies into the hangar.”
While the day was not yet won, things had continued to shift in their favor. At this rate it was only a matter of time before the Pyke stronghold fell.
Pyke Storehouse Compound
At the ten minute mark Aurelis and the two squads made their way through the forest to the compound. Thin streams of smoke drifted from the warehouse, and a thicker billow of smoke rose far beyond it, so far, so good. Squads one and two got into sweep-breach position on opposite ends of the administration building with instructions to each clear half and meet in the middle. Aurelis stood at the rear of squad two, watching her chronometer.“Three, two, one.” With a minor blast, the squad forced entry. They spread through the room and eliminated every single moving target as they maneuvered through the building, as no quarter had been permitted. Once a room was cleared Aurelis followed behind, lifting information from consoles with dataspikes.
In summation, the struggle was scarcely a conflict, and verged on slaughter. Yet in the shadows having avoided detection, the armed leader of the compound emerged from a hidden space, priming a blaster pistol. In the reflection of a console screen Aurelis could see the man approach holding the pistol to the back of her head,” The leader of this little band, armorless?”
“Nice to see you too.” She said almost too quietly. She heard the man’s fingers grip tighter on the holdout pistol, his brows furrowed.” What are you blathering about.”
“ So this is where you were demoted to after you failed on Toshara. Pathetic.” she said, a deadly, cold smile creeping across her face. “Turn around.” he ordered. She complied, slowly turning to face him. She pulled the mask down and drug off the hood, her expression now blank, her eyes dead as they bored into his own. His expression shifted from suspicion to anger, she could practically hear his teeth grinding in fury. “ The young Phaelor survives, after fifteen years, how does it feel to be on the run as a fugitive from your own supposed home of the Empire.”
“Quite lucrative actually, see, true Imperials don’t give a shit about wanted statuses if they can get what they need, especially when a simple intelligence dig sees that said wanted status comes from some backwater refuge backed by a band of criminals whose count exceeds one charge of murder.” she explained with a dirty smile.
His grip tightened further,” Filth.” Her expression shifted, from dirty, to glee.” Sloppy.”
She still had a dataspike she hadn’t used yet in her grip and in a flash of speed slammed it into his wrist holding the pistol. Twisting and slamming her elbow into his cheekbone, he crashed into a chair and landed on the floor. She calmly walked over and placed the heel of her boot on his throat,” Again, sloppy.”
He struggled to gather air as her expression immediately went from amusement, to stone. “M-monster.” he gasped, gurgling as he slowly turned purple then blue. “Well yes, but who made me that I wonder.” she responded with the tilt of her head. The rest of the squad, hearing the commotion re-entered the room and watched silently as Aurelis strangled this flailing man on the metal floor with her shoe. He was still scratching at her leg when she looked up at the troopers.” Are we cleared?” “Yes Ma’am.” replied the sergeant. Her response was a quick nod,” Good, set the beacon.”
Fifteen minutes later half the cargo was loaded into the larger secondary transport that had followed the dropship. Aurelis was on board taking a cursory catalogue of the inventory. “ Just shy of ninety minutes. Not bad.” she casually said as the squad leaders approached. “ Loading should be complete in ten minutes.” one reported, she nodded,” When everyone is off the ground, obliterate it.”
A few days later
Karracca was compiling his after action report to send off to the Exarch in the aftermath of Operation Starshell in his cabin aboard the Corra VI. The results were better then he could have hoped for. All 16 targets had been eliminated, and on top of that it had appeared through various Intel sources that the Pykes were pulling back from all of their various facilities and outposts within 20 light years of any Brotherhood territory. The old wookie strategist knew that this was likely only a temporary redeployment to avoid losing any more assets at the hands of the seemingly united clans of Brotherhood(from their perspective). They would be back, and they would remember what had occured.
Still though, the silverback couldn’t help but let out a smile and a little chuckle.