The O.U.S.C. Marines arrived in a burst of fire through Quermia’s otherwise serene atmosphere, a mix of drop pods in free-fall from high orbit alongside LAAT/i and CR25 Troop Carriers. Their targets were clear, concise, and this deep into the recesses of the jungle, unlikely to be manned by any civilians. Infrastructure built by the CIS decades ago, meant to help assure a victory for the Independent Systems, now served to overturn a planetary government.
Their Forward Operating Base, Camp Harakoa, established to their immediate south at sector 151.063 (We’ll consider these points the Longitude and Latitude, although system isn’t based properly) served as their immediate fallback and refuel depot for their support aircraft. Vauzem and newly manufactured droids patrol the area, clearing them and making way toward the Manufactories serves as the primary objective, what you do along the way is your prerogative.
Mihoshi stood in the command tent, her violet eyes staring at the map table were as hard as amethysts. Their forces were limited to a point, but not overwhelmingly so. The Marines and a few pieces of Armour had punched through the line to establish this camp.
“Captain Vahl,” She said almost absently to the Trooper behind her.
“Councillor?” The man’s voice was a soft modulated tone through the helmet’s vox.
“Begin the advance. Take as many forward scouts as you need and get us closer to that facility.”
The Trooper saluted and left the tent. “Sergeant Vectis, what is the status of our communications relay?”
“Councillor, we have established contact with our forces planetside and limited contact with our forces playing hide and seek in orbit.”
Mihoshi stared at the map and swore softly. “We have to hold the line and push where we can.”
She thought for a minute. “When the odds are against you, change the odds. Sergeant, send the saboteurs. I want to deprive their men of anything edible or drinkable within days. Use your best infiltrators and get it done.”
Whilst others were being sent to sabotage the enemy encampments, Celevon Werd'a and Ruana Suoh-Werd'la had been sent out for a dual purpose: to pose as a distraction and thin the enemy numbers wherever father and daughter-in-law encountered them. In short, cause chaos and mark a path of destruction.
One was clad in mostly unpainted beskar Mandalorian armor, with a hood and robe pieces reminiscent of the armor style favored by the Jedi Order during the Clone Wars. The Seeker wielded a combination of his compound hilt lightsaber — which could be utilized in either the saberstaff configuration, as a single long-hilt lightsaber or separated to form two identical hilts — his Mandalorian Vambrace and the Force with ruthless efficiency. The pair of Sith Daggers sheathed in a cross-sheath on his lower back remained unused thus far.
The other, shorter figure was clad in the armor of a Clone ARC Trooper, painted a mesh of black and dark blue. The Pantoran had chosen to wear this particular armor — refitted, of course, due to their stark difference in stature — to honor the only grandfather figure she had ever known, the recently deceased J'akked Eilifsson. Ruana was kitted out with a pair of matching BlasTech DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistols, strapped to each thigh in tactical drop holsters, a Sapphire Blade sheathed on her back with the hilt peeking over her right shoulder and her AB-75 Bo-rifle with the stock to her shoulder.
The pair had only encountered two small patrols thus far; the first had been swiftly dispatched in a blitz attack before they could access their comms, whilst the second had spotted them first and opened fire, recognizing Celevon’s armor from the descriptions of the Vauzem Dominion’s previous encounter with Clan Odan-Urr.
The snap-hiss of the Blade Master’s viridian blades igniting almost simultaneously was drowned out by the rapid-fire of crimson bolts lancing from the Weapons Specialist’s Bo-rifle.
The Shaevalian-Umbaran spun the hilt of his lightsaber, both blades humming and flashing as he redirected each bolt back at their attackers. Three were felled immediately, whilst the fourth was merely wounded. The fifth, seated on a speeder bike, ceased firing and moved to flee as he saw how swiftly the rest of his team went down.
Celevon jerked his left arm up and shifted his wrist, unleashing a poorly aimed mini-rocket that detonated where the back of the speeder had been moments before. A combination of the concussive force and the shards of duracrete shrapnel silenced the wounded soldier’s cries. Ruana also fired on the fleeing patrol, but had been momentarily blinded by the explosion and only managed to wound the target before he sped around a corner.
Both swore, one quietly whilst the other snarled several epithets in a dead tongue.
“Well, they know we’re here now. Reinforcements will be on their way to us,” the Seeker grumbled, deactivating his lightsaber, though the hilt remained within his hand.
“After we get out of this, I’m getting one of those Vambraces,” Ruana stated decisively. “I thought they only came set up like Artemis’, with the fibrewhip, darts and such, which is why I didn’t accept when you offered me one before.”
“It’s quite useful and has a multitude of functions, depending on the configuration. This one has a flamethrower and a wrist-laser as well, not counting that it servs as a comm unit,” Celevon replied with a nod whilst the two of them continued in pursuit of whatever enemy they could find, having briefly checked to confirm that all four targets wouldn’t be getting back up.
“I didn’t ask for a lecture, Cel.”
The pair continued to bicker quietly, tones belying the situation they were in.
-# “Report: Enemy forces contacted at coordinates <Binary Encoding> deploying 3 B1 Squadrons to your location.” A mechanical voice could be heard over the comms of one of the fallen Vauzem soldiers.
To those knowledgable, it would be recognizable as a Droidbrain Control System, responsible for battlefield awareness and augmented dispatch of droids, absent direct orders from their CIS Handlers. Where most had been disabled after the Clone Wars, some had previous been re-activated, or used as force multipliers by military strategists to help process battlefield and troop movements.
Further afield, a shout could be heard.
“You heard them!” A wavering voice shouted, gaining strength as they spoke. “We’ve the manpower incoming, don’t let a single ‘Jedi’ strike fear into your heart, turn around and drive them back. Remember your training, if they’re using those silly glowsticks, use the batons!”
Uka Komi froze.
This wasn’t her first combat situation – of course it wasn’t, she was a Jedi – and really, it wasn’t even her first battle but… it was her first war, true and open. When the O.U.S.C. ship had touched down, she did what she always did: She opened herself to the Force by reflex, didn’t even think about it, and was wholly unprepared for the tide of seething dark that swept over her.
The suffering, the bloodshed, the hate that was suffocating this planet like a blanket was unlike anything she’d ever felt on Kiast.
She locked up. What did she do? How could she move under this wave of… of…
Snap-hiss
The sound of a lightsaber activating snapped her out of her reverie, jolted her senses out of the endless tides of the Force and back into the now. She turned and saw Celevon – a familiar figure around the Praxus even if she didn’t know him well – deflecting blaster fire with an ease that spoke of long practice. Next to him was Ruana, her blaster pistols firing. And over it all Councillor Mikoshi was presiding.
Komi swallowed, and closed her eyes, letting her breathing match her heartbeat. She opened her senses again, and this time let the dark part around her as she sought the spark of light within herself.
Her eyes snapped open, and the energy bow on her wrist blossomed to full life, as she prepared to take her shot.
Komi let the Force guide her hand, Shadowshot moving almost of it’s own volition, and with a soft twang of energy, a shot let off, taking out the head of the commander rallying the troops.
The staff sergeant dropped as his hands grasped for his head, only to collapse as his fellow soldiers watched on in disbelief. Anger burned in the eyes of the men as they turned from their sergeant to one another, then in the direction the shot had come from.
“For Alvi!” One shouted as the men began to march forward, blasters leveled on the field ahead.
None were sure exactly where they fired, but their intent was to level everything ahead of them, to drop the Jedi who had taken out their brother, fellow soldier, and friend.
“Pour it on. They’re men just like us, they can’t stop every blaster bolt, something’s bound to get through. Mayhap it’ll take their ‘eads clean off!” Another called over the din of blaster fire.
Komi bit her lip. Well, that wasn’t exactly the reaction she was going for…
A bolt of red plasma blasted past her head, searing a few strands of silver-white hair.
Perhaps there’s a better way I can aid this battle, she thought. Reaching out to the Force, she called the lightrays around her to twist and bend, vanishing behind a Cloak of light, and disappearing from sight.