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Mechis III


King Kheldar vos Correlli

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((Sorry.... Life's been crazy the last few days. I've hardly even been at my computer.))

 

Milenko's grasp caught firmly upon the leathered texture that was his clothes, his gaze shifting from Baal to the wall behind him, his backside exposed to his fellow Apprentice as he reclothed himself. Milenko was a darer, a instigator of sorts, always pushing those he wished to their very limits and beyond. He chuckled softly upon his exit, his maniacal brain already plotting, dreaming of many ways to have his fun.

 

But little did he know of the joyious pain he was about endure upon his encounter with Lord Ason. As he neared the two, a rush of pulsating pain struck the lad, images of streaking stars lining his very eye sight as the sharp and gutwrenching pain winced throughout his brain. See, Milenko had never encountered the actual force. Though he did know of his force sensitivity since a young child, he had never came in contact to one using it. Hence his sudden fall out.

 

Salavia and drool seeped from his mouth as his laughter thundered throughout the complex, his eye sockets stretched to their limits as his gaze glimmered that of one of the many psychotics that littered the galaxy's back streets. He had felt Ason's power and it had activated a lust for it within him, and he would learn whatever he could about this power. Though he and Ason would never see eye to eye, Milenko made a pact that day to, at the very least, accept the man's offer and begin his path down the darkest trail.

 

He stood, the moment slowly passing by until the dazed feeling washed over him like the baptizing waters of old world religion, reborn into a world of chaos, darkness, and death.... a world built for Milenko and blessed by his godly family. At first, he trekked back and forth in a stalking manner, teasing his new Master with the thoughts of an attack. But then he stopped, letting a moment of silence feel the air.

 

Death hung onto Milenko by a mere thread, and the Acolyte knew this. Ason could kill him with just a mere breaking of the sweat, and that was what Milenko was feeding off of as he remained quiet, still, unwavering. He blinked, his turquoise gaze staring coldly at Ason. But a smile crept onto his face once again, the words that followed simple and elegantly gracing the Lord's ears. "I am ready to learn what you wish to teach."

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Shadrach briefly recalled all the propaganda holos of various Sith war atrocities.

 

Heh. Maybe the kids will have to learn about me someday.

 

"So be it. Is it brother... or master?"

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In combat, chaos reigns. The rote performance of technique will always fail before a resourceful opponent.

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Shadrach stood silently, alone with his thoughts in this durasteel tomb. Some part of him would remain here long after he left. He half expected to be struck down now, as the punch line of some twisted joke. The death blow didn't come. His reflection was interrupted by the comm.

 

”œNo, R8, I'm fine. No, I haven't found it yet. Yes, I'm still looking. ”¦Shouldn't take much longer.”

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In combat, chaos reigns. The rote performance of technique will always fail before a resourceful opponent.

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::He wasn't sure where they were emanating, nor why they where, but stark scenes swam in his head nonetheless. As the catastrophe beat around him he couldn't help but fall prey to them, he didn't want to stop it. A twisted sort of jovial maliciousness rose, the carnage flowing through his mind less shocking than what would be expected. Lights swirled and death rose, the seal of triumph uncertain as his heartbeat changed pace with the ballet of chaos. The images faded as he was addressed by Ason, but they remained fresh in his mind.::

 

Battle. It has it's uses. With proper application one could subjugate any one person or specific group. However it's rare that war is used properly, as the thought needed to be put forth to make a plan solid is often beyond the mind of most.

 

::He turned to look at Ason, now looking straight at him::

 

We're going to win. It's rather simple.

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Ason's hidden expression frayed slightly, a mild displeasure in this one's answer. This one saw the carnage around him, but he didn't see all the history that was unfolding upon the very walls of the academy.

 

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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  • 3 weeks later...

After a quick drop-out from hyperspace to send a brief transmission to the Rebellion, I calculated another hyperspace jump that carried the Ghost Breath the rest of the distance to Mechis III. Imagine my surprise when the eerie blue tunnel of faster-than-light star travel dissolved into confused lines of starlight, then to empty featureless space with only an ugly, industrial planet as scenery.

 

This space wasn't supposed to be empty.

 

I was alone. Something was to blame here””perhaps I had only underestimated the power of my ship's engines, even laden with its cargo, and arrived ahead of the Rebellion. Or maybe the Jedi and Rebellion had abandoned me to a very quick and inevitable demise””Sith, I hoped that wasn't the case, otherwise I was going to have to haunt someone's ass in the afterlife as retaliation.

 

”œOh”¦ balls”¦

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The Blur pulls out of hyperspace, quickly taking up wing beside the Ghost Breath as soon as it picks it up on sensors. Aryian noticed as well the lack of ships, and furrowed his brow in the cockpit.

 

You have got to be kidding me...

 

Seconds later, though, a much larger cuboid ship jumped from hyperspace a short ways away, establishing id links with the Blur. Instantly he recognized the vessel and knew their chances had just increased a bunch. He slapped a panel on his console, opening a comm channel to his wife's craft, making sure it was line of sight encrypted so as to not possibly be intercepted.

 

"What now?"

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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As a start to answering Aryian's question, something else took place. Namely, four capital ships emerged from hyperspace. Three were Mon Calamari MC90a Star Cruisers, the Justice, the Dodanna, and the Crusader. The fourth was huge, a massive Super-class Star Destroyer and the flagship of the Alliance fleet, the Sword of Justice.

 

Immediately the ships began to move into a formation that would help them get a foothold in the system and begin analyzing the defenses.

 

The Admiral, Onderin Starlisk, on the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer, commed the planet. "Imperial forces on Mechis III, you have three minutes to surrender or casualties will be inflicted."

 

Meanwhile, the soldiers of all four Alliance ships were hustling through the armories, being armed with weapons designed specifically for this attack--rifles that not only fired blaster bolts with all the power and accuracy of an Alliance A280a, but that had a clip of stabilized plasma that was called a booma on Naboo by one race that had invented such a weapon--the warrior race called Gungans.

 

Onderin shut off the comm and spoke to the bridge crew. "Run a complete sensor sweep. I want to know what's here. Also scan the ground to see what they have waiting for us."

 

Your move, Empire.

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There is nothing good in war. There is good in why we fight them.

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Brad's XJ X-Wing burst from hyperspace behind the Blur and the Ghost Breath. He was quite surprised to see that there wasn't a battle raging on. In fact, as he looked around and sensed out with the Force, he didn't detect an Imperial capital ship around their small area of space. As the Alliance capital ships settled into formation, Brad positioned his fighter to cover Aryian and Armiena.

 

Brad had his droid, R2-T2, connect to the Jedi Battlenet before having the droid monitor communications on the Alliance Battlenet. "Where's the welcoming committee?" Brad asked to both Aryian and Armiena. "I was expecting a party, with cake and ice cream, and all that other fun stuff. Now I'm rather disappointed. Did you forget to call ahead and tell them we could make it today?"

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Emerging from hyperspace, he gazed down upon the mechanized world. He couldn't help the bad taste that formed in his mouth, the last time he had fought on this world. Even then armed, appropriately, he had, had a very hard time of it.

 

Needless to say, he wasn't to willing to repeat the experience.

 

He leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes; the new weight on his belt, only reminded him of his purpose here. He was here to wag war. There was nothing to defend, he would be purposely hunting. Lucky him.

 

He calmed himself over the thought. He was walking too fine of a line, to get excited over a bunch of rust buckets. Still, he was almost waiting to hear the sound of his blade snapping to life, cleaving soon to be scrap metal in half.

 

He stopped himself and gazed down on the world yet again. It only gave him a bad taste in his mouth.

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Well, you could always just post something like "OMG GREAT FIC WOW!"
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Two blinding flashes of light signalled the appearance of the Empire. The three ISD's, The Flame of Courscant, The Imperial Dagger, The Acklay II and the Super Star Destroyer, The Imperial Vengance began to close on the Rebel fleet from two sides. Effectively they were moving into a classic pincer movement. As soon as the fleet was out of hyperspace, The Grand Admiral sprang into action. "Helmsman, I want full shields. Captain, open encrypted laser line of sight comm to Imperial fleet."

 

When the comm was open, Luke spoke to the fleet. "Imperial Fleet, this is for the Emperor and the Empire. You all know your tasks, do not fail in them and if required to lay down your life for the Empire do so willingly knowing your sacrifice will not be forgotten or in vain. " He shut off the comm and sent a brief highly encoded and encrypted comm to the droid mainframe of the planet allowing it to bring the planetary defenses online.

 

A short time later, certain parts of the droid planet began to come together forming turbolaser batteries and ion cannons. The droids on the planet began to form ranks, those that had internal and external weapons readied themselves. Those without weapons headed to various armories to arm themselves with a large assortment of weapons. Some were armed with railguns, some with blasters others with slug throwers. Those droids with sniper rifles took up hidden positions around the planet. They would meet the assualt with fire of their own.

 

While the planet was preparing, the Imperial fleet lauched the wings of Tie Fighters, Bombers and Defenders into space to cover the area in between the Rebels and the rightful Empire. Luke pointed to the comms officer who quickly opened a comm to the Rebel fleet.

 

"Rebel fleet, you are here by ordered to stand down and surrender the Jedi Darkfire and Darkfire to Imperial Justice to answer for their crimes against the citizens of the Empire. I will give you two minutes to decide or be fired upon."

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My life for the Empire

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Oh hell no he didn't.

 

Aryian madly flipped switches and worked his console both mentally and with his hands, powering up weapons and shield systems, as well as tweaking his ship to conditions that might be dangerous when used in other than a battle environment. He was honored and at the same time furous that the Empire would call out specifically his and his wife's name after all they had achieved for the citizens of the galaxy, especially Armiena by founding the Survivor's Foundation, the largest emergency-reaction support charity in the galaxy. It was practically like the Red Cross on Earth.

 

...Aryian furrowed his brow momentarily before forgetting the last piece of information, once again turning his attention to the task at hand. As one, the links on six of the exterior crates loosened, preparing them for a hasty delivery if needed. Instead, he switched on the comm.

 

"On what right does the Empire demand we lay down arms and come peacably when they have committed crimes against their own people time and time again, and we as Jedi struggle nearly in vain to try and help as many as we can? True, we fight the battles of war. War is an ugly thing, casualties and collateral damages come along with it. But if nobody stands up to a tyrant, then none of us deserve any better than their rule. The Jedi are sworn to uphold the right and the just, and I have and will die for those ideals. If in the end I have done nothing with my efforts, I will die peaceably with the knowledge that I tried, and that there will be others to take my place. You cannot keep down the outcry of reason and justice! I will never surrender to the Empire as long as it holds the opposite of these ideals in its core mantle!"

 

The Blur moved forwards slightly, taking place in front of the Ghost Breath, an extremely powerful Force barrier forming in a semispheroid around the two ships.

 

May the Shield of the Grandmaster never falter...

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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At the insistance of the Imperium, the workers and technicians, as well as their families of those on Mechis III are huddled into "secure" areas, sent out by easily intercepted comms. Shielded from most attacks from orbit- namely the planet's wide array of planetary turbo lasers and ion cannons set to act as a defensive measure and grind the rebels between a vicious pincer attack- these are designated the safest places since "the rebels won't get past the Imperial line of defense and they are safer than unprotected military factories." Should those areas be "neutralized" there would be no way to mitigate the civilian casualties caused by rebel attacks without storming individual surface stations.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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The Foxbite dropped out of hyperspace in high orbit above the Planet Mechis, the lowly bounty hunter finding that he was the last to make the scene. After holonet had broadcast both a bounty on the Darkfire-Draygos, and later their relative location, he expected to have to pick through a swarm of competition to get to the very valuable couple. He was pretty disappointed to find that he'd been beaten to the punch not only by the empire, but the rebellion as well.

 

His visor skimmed over the messages that came up on his computer screen.

 

Entering Mechis III airspace...

Scanning for private craft...

 

The screen shot through hundreds of detected registrations, mostly cargo freighters transporting goods back and forth between the imperial world. Fox disabled his ship ID broadcast and shut down the wireless receiver, sure that a technology heavy world such as this would warrant the extra defence against potential slicers.

 

With the look of a cargo freighter, he traveled descretely along a space traffic lane toward a shipping depot, making a slow advance as he worked to find his bounty. The lanes seemed to be rushing to get to the surface, such as to not get caught in the battle that was soon to ensue.

 

His comm, which resided on a dedicated circuit which he kept independant of the rest of his machine, picked up message bouncing around the planet.

 

"Oi, you there, little insignificant world..."

 

The message matched that of the one broadcasted on Holonet. It took mere moments for him to track the communication back to its source--one of two unidentified craft that had apparently stopped to chat in high orbit. A third, larger droid looking ship was near by: evidently an important asset of some sort.

 

Fox navigated his ship toward the center of a few large cargo ships, formulating a strategy and taking visual cover behind a wall of steel. He looked over at the weapons console, punching a few buttons, then got on his comm. His rear door opened, and behind him was dropped a heavy yield concussion bomb in the midst of the space traffic. Such a small object left to drift harmlessly in space, it was highly unlikely that anyone would be able to report it as a bomb--much less detect where it was coming from, in time.

 

"Mayday, Mayday, bogeys in the supply line! Mayda-! *STATIC*"

 

Fox's communications jammer cut his message short, ensuring that not only would no one be able to identify him, but that there'd be no local remote control to the resources from the tech planet. As the bomb exploded far behind him he broke away from the scattering ship traffic, watching ships roll and swoop out of the way to evade the threat of an artificial foe. Fox turned his ship and charged straight for the group, using the chaos created by his ploy. With the shipping route now flying erratically, his humble looking freighter would easily blend into the masses, at least long enough for him to close the gap between himself and two Jedi.

 

That is, close the gap and fire a volley of four seeker proton missiles at the most vulnerable target--the server ship.

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Onderin listened first to the comm from the Imperial fleet, then to Aryian's response. Finally, he added in some words of his own, directed towards the Imperial fleet. "We will not meet your terms," he said. "Prepare to be fired upon."

 

He turned to his officers, "Power up all weapons. Shields up. I hope we got some good information, because we're going to need it, now that we're pinned between the Imperial Fleet and Mechis III."

 

"Sir!" an officer said. "We've intercepted a transmission from the surface. The Empire is instructing civilians to take cover--among the planetary turbolasers!"

 

The Jedi Master frowned. He couldn't believe that the citizens would be foolish enough to take cover in the places that would be the most likely to be fired upon. "Very well," he said. "Pinpoint the locations of those places and keep us in the location where we'll be under the least fire from those batteries. We'll have to go in on the ground to take them out--it's safer that way, I think."

 

Let's make this happen, he thought. He then sent a comm to Brad Warren. "Jedi Warren," he addressed the man, "if you're up for it, I'd like to give you some troops and a mission. Imperial citizens have flocked to the vicinity of planetary weapons emplacements. Rather than risk the collateral damage, I'd like to send in some troops to knock the stations out from the inside and commandeer them against the Imperial fleet.

 

"I have as many troopers standing by as you think you'll need. Are you willing to accept the mission?"

 

Before awaiting a response, Onderin turned back to the developing battle. "Form up defensively. We need to double team those Star Destroyers to neutralize them quickly. The Sword of Vengeance is definately a match for Imperial Vengeance, but it will do neither side any good if the two Star Destroyers duke it out.

 

"Put us between the Flame of Coruscant and Imperial Dagger. Double-team the Vengeance for now, and pull Justice under the arrowhead to give everyone something to think about," he said. The biggest disadvantage of the Imperial-favorite arrowhead formation was that it was simply two-dimensional.

 

Besides, Onderin knew quite a bit about facing that formation--it seemed like every Emperor in history had had a fetish for it, and he had faced it countless times.

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There is nothing good in war. There is good in why we fight them.

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"On what right does the Empire demand we lay down arms and come peaceably when they have committed crimes against their own people time and time again, and we as Jedi struggle nearly in vain to try and help as many as we can? True, we fight the battles of war. War is an ugly thing, casualties and collateral damages come along with it. But if nobody stands up to a tyrant, then none of us deserve any better than their rule. The Jedi are sworn to uphold the right and the just, and I have and will die for those ideals."

 

”œSworn to uphold the right and the just, but yet your wife who is also the grandmaster of the Jedi, said and I quote. Oi, you there, little insignificant world. I've decided that I want that planet, and I know exactly how I'm going to take it. I'm going to burn down anyone that gets in my way, so if anyone down there has a surrender you want to offer, now's the time to do so. Oh yes, I am quite sure you are upholding the right and just while you slaughter innocent civilians and the innocent families of the military technicians.”

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My life for the Empire

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Aryian heard Armiena's comm rebroadcast by the Imperials, and inside his craft, his jaw dropped, about the same time he noticed four proton torpedoes rapidly whizzing towards the large Server ship behind them. It could have easily rehacked their tracking systems, sending the torpedoes back where they came from, but about that time his wife deftly took care of the problem herself in a more peaceful manner. But Aryian wasn't even thinking about the torpedoes just then.

 

Armiena?...Did you really just say that?

 

Her comm helped regain his confidence in why they were here, but it still struck him low. Ever since they had been engaged on Naboo, Aryian had wanted to be in as few battles as possible, mostly there to ensure his wife was safe. But now...A stoic look on his face, he straightened up in his seat,regaining full control. He trusted his wife, no matter what she did. He might not have liked how it had portrayed the Jedi, but ultimately, it was for the better. Without the Imperials, the galaxy would be a much safer place, at least until the next regime rose to power...which would be never, he hoped.

 

He heard the second comm from his wife to the Admiral, and prepped his engines again, making sure they were ready for the enduring strains he was about to put them through. The Server ship broadcast an encoded text message to his vessel, which he automatically relayed to Armiena...she would want to see this.

 

((Via PM))

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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Turbolaser blasts began to leap across the expanse between the Imperial fleet and that of the Alliance, the green and red destructive bolts of light clashing like the lightsaber blades of a Jedi and a Sith Lord. So far, not much damage had been done, but that would change in time.

 

Onderin spent most of his time strategizing and listening to comm chatter. He needed to know what starfighter squadrons were in trouble, what capital ships needed the most support, and, just as importantly, he needed to keep tabs on what was going on inside the cockpit of Armiena Draygo.

 

When the Grandmaster commed him, he nodded grimly. "Acknowledged," he said. She was going after the Imperial Vengeance. It was just the sort of thing at which she was starting to get really good. Not many people were renowned for the capture of multiple Super Star Destroyers, but there had been heroes like her before--the name Kyle Katarn hopped into Onderin's head.

 

He ordered several squads of troopers to report to the hangar and load into transports. He desginated a couple squadrons of E-wings--perfect escort fighters with a TIE Interceptor's speed and a B-wings punch--to guard them as they crossed the expanse to the Imperial Vengeance.

 

The Admiral searched the Force for any idea of what could be awaiting Armiena aboard that Super Star Destroyer. The strong emotions of battle filled the Force, and he could only be certain that Admiral MacLeod was present. But it was impossible to say if some old Sith weapon lay aboard....

 

"Launch," he ordered the troop-filled transports and E-wing squadrons. He then commed Armiena. "They're under your command, Master Draygo," he said.

 

He knew that if she succeeded, the Imperial fleet would break up and his forces could take the space battle under control. They could then have plenty of time to set up and begin the process of subjugating the droid world of Mechis III. It would be no small task, but it was one he thought they had come prepared for....

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There is nothing good in war. There is good in why we fight them.

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A mysterious ship had entered the fray at Mechis III, and despite many attempts by R2-T2 to tag it friend or foe, Brad still had no answer. The Force echoed a warning inside his head, however, as his comm system was disabled. When four jets of fire shot forward from the ship towards the server ship, Brad figured he had his friend or foe tag. It continued a course directly towards Aryian and Armiena. He'd have to get that ship's attention temporarily.

 

Sharply diving on an intercept course to the strange freighter's ((Cerulean Fox)) rear, Brad opened fire with his quad laser canons and released 3 shadow bombs. Hoping that got the freighter's attention, the Jedi Knight shot the shadow bombs onward to the craft. The silent weapons moved forward with deadly accuracy, propelled only by the Force. The pilot of the freighter wouldn't know what hit him.

 

Three large explosions lit up the area around the freighter's engines before fading, undoubtedly crippling the ship's motion, if not more. Shielding would offer little protection against the baradium fueled explosion. After the hit, Brad pulled up and rolled over to the left, changing course to get a better field of fire for his second attack.

 

"I'm working on the one on your tail, Aryian." Brad called out through the Force. He gave the ship's position using the Force so his fellow Jedi would know what to hit. "I think it's blocking communications."

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All posts that involve communication need to be edited or nulled. Cerulean Fox is jamming comms, which means no transmissions or ranged uplinks. Furthermore, Nitestrike, you have to maintain concentration on shadowbombs for them to work, so either you're commited to the fight, or you're bailing for the planet.

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Onboard the Star Cruiser Justice, Commander Kyrie waited for any further orders. So far, the battle was in space alone for the Alliance, she wasn't sure about the Jedi that were also involved...

 

Everyone was armed: everyone onboard the ships were ready for things to get very, very ugly.

 

Ariane was prepared for things to get very, very ugly.

 

Ultimately, plans never worked out as originally intended. This should have been a quick, silent strike against a crucial location. Now it would spread out and become a battlefield between the Alliance and the Empire. Good and evil.

 

Have to wonder, are we really better than them?

 

If given orders, how much are you going to do for the Alliance?

 

...It's not for the Alliance. It's for the countless people the Empire has slaughtered. Given orders, she would not think twice. Ariane had originally joined the Alliance in a quest for vengence, but now it was in the fight for the galaxy.

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((if this is not a post made in RP, I forgot to log out.))

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Nitestrike, your post is nulled, please try again without using shadowbombs as unstoppable uber weapons. And a reminder for everyone, if it wouldn't be fair in a duel("ambushing" someone and cutting their legs off in one post), it's probably not fair in a spaceship fight either("ambushing" someone and hitting them with an unavoidable attack that cripples their ship in one post). Remember that playing to win usually just tends to make you lose.

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Confident in their human shields to protect the planetary turbolaser and ion batteries, the Imperial forces on the ground order firing at will, intent on trying to hammer at the largest and most availible target- the Sword of Vengence. The lasers, despite their power, hammer into the shields, grinding on them, but fail to break through. The ion blasts though shoot past in blue streaks, by-passing the shields and into the hull of the ship. Though they have a minimal impact on the Sword as a whole, their net effect causes power loss and systems troubles in small, concentrated patches. Orders are given to the planet's spaceborn droid defenders to punch a whole into that spot once the shields failed there.

 

***

 

On the surface, droid defenders work alongside storm troopers to guard the various battery instillations. Precautions were made to make each droid function independently, preventing the danger of hacking from above, a danger made clear with a clear sighting of the Jedi's servership. Anyone trying to breach the ground defenses would face staunch oppostion. In one of them, an aged, dignified Imperial commander works hard to direct the defenses, his face a familiar site to those who watched Holonet, being the face of Mechis III broadcasted to the galaxy.

 

"Commander," one of his lieutenants begins. "Your orders?"

 

The commander gently polishes his rank bar, looking out at a viewscreen. "We're safe here for now. They won't attack us here, not from orbit, and that gives us a fighting chance." The commander, not turning around, gives another set of orders. "Have escape craft prepared, just in case though. If the Rebel Alliance does break through, we need to get as many technicians and workers out as possible. We'll need their skills." There is a sound of affirmation to this order. The commander gazes at a screen showing the shipyards for the planet. "How goes the plan there?" he asks, hopeful of this gambit...

 

***

 

Up in Mechis III's shipyards, plans were made to blow everything to hell. The place was hardwired to go at what all but amounted to the push of a button. The Empire would be damned if they let this valuable resource into the Rebel's hands.

 

Space troopers, accompanying suited technicians work in a pair of half finished shell of what would have been Star Destroyers for the imperial fleet. Though far from done, the hull was mostly intact, and most importantly, its engines were operative. The ship's droid brains, used for navigation and other primary functions were being hardwired- no communications would be accepted, and once their deadly orders were given, there would be no stopping them. The same commands, working hastily, were given to Imperial TIEs that had halted on the production line and were still capable of the barest semblance of space flight.

 

"I want you to target those MC90a Cruisers," comes the voice of a gruff sergeant, giving the orders, pointing at what were the Justice and Crusader respectively. "I want these hulls launched at maximum throttle at them. They won't be able to get out of the way in time and even if they explode them..." There's a vicious grin, "the debris will impede their movements. Now launch!"

 

From the shipyards, the two hulks slowly pour out at first, gaining momentum in the void of space as their engines flare up for this kamekaze run. The droid brains hard wired for this task, they could not be deviated. Speeding ahead came a full wing and a half of TIEs- some with only 3/4 of their full engines, most in some phase of incompleteness, streaming ahead, ready to hurl themselves at the rebel's ships.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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The Mandalorian was notably perplexed by the response. After firing a series of missiles at a ship in close proximity, neither of the Jedi had moved to counter attack. In fact, it seemed neither had taken the time to even move, as if lost in their own minds, or high on spice. The Jedi truly lived up to their reputation of being utterly incompetent in battle.

 

As Fox closed what was already a small gap between him and the apparently sleeping Jedi, ((Ya' both posted explicitly ignoring me, even though I posted explicitly charging straight for you)) Fox took his time and carefully aimed his path, making a sudden ascension as he entered the Proximity. In his wake followed three cluster bombs, carefully dropped in series such that they'd follow his path straight into the group.

 

The Foxbite sped away quickly, expecting maybe they'd figure out they were under attack when the bombs burst, firing thousands of magnetic thermal detonators into space. Fox circled around slowly, watching the cloud of tiny bombs swarm on the immobile ships, and in the mere seconds before the explosion contemplated whether or not there was a force power that'd prevent innumerable bombs from vaporising a Jedi's face.

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((I've decided to just null the entire post I wrote. Too much has happened since then.))

 

Hearing my own words thrown back at me in an idiotic, witless assault against my long-standing record as an utterly compassionate warrior as far as civilians were concerned, I was more than eager to get back on the comm. and deliver a brutal tongue-lashing to that witless Imperial admiral. I was about to do just that, but my words were drowned out by an irritating chorus of static. It was just as well that someone was jamming communications in my vicinity; the amount of time it would have taken to make my rebuttal would have been better spent on the fight. Victory was going to count on raw, brutal, killer efficiency, not the state of my ego.

 

Either way, it was going to be our actions that proved how hopelessly astray the Imperial ”œcause”

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Helbrecht sat in the cargo hold of the Ghost Breath, trying to meditate before the inevitable battle that would take place on the planet's surface. For some reason, he couldn't close out the world. The rock just wouldn't grow. The unrest his master exhibited was throwing him off balance. She was consumed with the battle, using every ounce of training she had acquired over the years to make the Jedi one cohesive unit. He sorely wished he could join the fighters in space, but it would prove to be of no use. He had never taken the time to truly grasp and master the art of flying. Combat was meant to be hand to hand, not in little ships. He held Kad'ika tightly, waiting patiently for the chance to use it. For the moment, he had nothing to offer the Grand Master in terms of the battle. He could only become useful when they landed, scores of droids and stormtroopers ready to bring the battle to him.

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((I don't really consider this alias stacking as my characters aren't interacting and I don't plan to post off of one another. If anyone has a problem with it, I can edit it and wait for someone else to post. I just had time to post and I'm trying to make everything I can of it.))

 

The Trushot snapped out of hyperspace, revealing way too many big ships than Black was comfortable with. The ship sat outside the battle, far enough no one involved would even notice it.

 

Hm...If I were a Jedi Grand Master...

 

He scanned the ships, trying to find the biggest one. It only made sense someone of such prestige would command from the largest ship. It was taking a chance, but from what little information the Empire was willing to offer him, he had little choice. He lit up a black papered cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He needed to not only pick the correct rebel ship, but had to land on it, kidnap the one leading half of the forces present, and make it out of the system. All without dying. He began counting credits in his head, wondering if the promised hazard pay would come even close to what he was about to do.

 

Heh. I'm such a whore...

 

The ship pointed toward the biggest rebel ship ((Sword of Justice)) present and started towards it. Bobbing and weaving through private dogfights and random laser fire, Black found himself at ease. He seriously doubted anyone would pick his little freighter out of the fray to mess with. He brought the comm up to hail the SSD, only to find his comm was out.

 

What the hell? Been here ten minutes and they're ignoring me.

 

He remained just off the ship's port, weighing his next move. It didn't take long for him to make his decision, the bright green flash of a turbolaser flying past the window making the decision for him relatively quickly.

 

Screw this. I won't survive out here.

 

He brought the Trushot closer to ship, landing in one of the countless hangers fighters had previously been housed in. No doubt he would be swarmed as soon as he tried to exit his freighter, but seriously, who would fire upon a little YT-2400 like his? He strolled out of his ship, cigarette in his mouth, both hands idly in his empty front pockets.

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