Bespin: (Black Sun's) Cloud City

[Khargav]

Anger sang to him through every sinew of his body.

 

The flow of rage through the fiber of every moment was guiding him. Even as he passed through the portal of the small side building, Khargav couldn’t regain control of his body. He countered the fury with deep breaths, but it only leveled the intensity of his strikes. Loud booming noises erupted one every side and the ferocious feline would not relent.

 

He was greeted by a handful of Black Sun operatives at the main door to the cylindrical building. They were all armed which made their dispatch justifiable. A few of them managed to get shots off, which singed Khargav’s white fur. But the others, they were barely able to exclaim before Khargav’s massive claws rent flesh from their bones. The first agent, with a large repeater, closed on Khargav and tried to smash the beast with the butt of his rifle. Khargav used the man’s forward momentum to change places with him and then sliced clean through the man’s right shoulder, severing his arm from his body. The agent shrieked for a moment or two before Kahargav plunged his claws through the bottom of the man’s head, cutting his throat and leaving him on the floor bleeding out. The next two got shots off and tried to rush Khargav, but the Togorian dug his tree-trunk like fists into their sternums. He then grabbed hold of them and slammed them together, followed by smashing them against the ground. With his grips still holding onto their ankles, he used their bodies to beat off the remainder of the small squad before Khargav moved to find some respite. He needed to quiet his rage or he would fight with very little direction.

 

The fire of battle pounded, but Khargav was lost in its torrent. He needed to lead, but was being held back by his insatiable unpredictability.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Provisional Governor Cathryne Atali smiled grimly as she watched the live holo reports from cameras and her ground commanders. The Corvette, heavily damaged as it was continued to shoot not military structures but civilian buildings, all the while getting pounded to hell by the cannon fire of the heavy turbolasers. The first contact reports came back about Imperial jump troops and Cathryne knew that the invasion had truly begun. As the last ball cockpit was ripped apart by point defense towers, spilling its life into the void of atmosphere, the towers began to traverse and engage the jump troops. When they did land, the Imperials began in earnest to cause havoc. Estimated to be multiple hundreds of troops, Cathryne was non disturbed. She had almost ten thousand troops in just the wing guard itself. As the explosions resounded from the imperial ground troops she ordered the men at fixed E web positions to maintain their positions and dispatched 3,000 wing guards to defend the main entrances to the Command tower and generator/reactors. The five thousand she sent on a patrol to eliminate the imperial troops with cloud car cover. There would be no easy fight for the reactors. Hell she was right here alongside the main computer. The Imperial troops as soon as they entered buildings would be fought by the occupants of every room and hotel. A single tower would cost them dozens of men, and Cathryne knew they had few to spare. She had a population of five million card carrying black sunners, from the elderly grandmas and their five year old grandchildren. Still, holonews caught the first butchery caused by the imperials.

 

Three buildings went down over the next few minutes, but Cathryne knew that her men would be swiftly mopping up the remnants of the Remnant soon enough. The remaining two thousand Wing Guard went stationed themselves at the entrances to the lower levels. There would be no getting through. For now the main fight was in the city. Five hundred wing guard opened fire on a half a dozen stormtroopers foolishly attacking a building with missiles. It was pathetic, the governor thought.

 

The ornate single entrance to the Generators/Computer complex deep inside cloud city was covered by eight E-Web positions behind barricades, with a hundred wing guard behind cover, ready to fire at anything that got close enough from the tunnels. Two hundred wing guard stood ready to reinforce the main gate if it came under attack and two Seraph-class urban landspeeders sat in the open gateway with their heavy blaster cannons charged. Behind the main gate was the sprawling Reactor complex. Where the main central computer lay alongside the antimatter reactor. In the streets many levels above, the Black Sun began their heavy push towards identified imperial positions where the imperials would be no doubt bogged down. The loudspeakers of the Cloud City called out that Quarter would be given to those who surrendered, and that they would be treated fairly.

 

As the Imperial Corvette began its fast approach on the huge sprawling city the eleven operational turbolasers splattered it with fire. Even if its crew were suicidal enough to crash it into the city, it would cause very little damage. The heavy Tractor beams began to attempt to latch onto the the Imperial frigate, though a likely futile gesture, it was an attempt.

[Khargav]

The fire of his heart burned bright, fueling his mad procession. Pale blue, nearly drowned in the great black flood of dilated pupils, stared deep into the souls of every man that crossed paths with him. He took his share of hits, but Khargav bat them away like flies with his massive claws. Despite the futility of their charge, they drew to him. Like a black hole of chaotic rage, they flocked to his mania and threatened to destroy his rampage. But the further he drew up the stairs, the further he sunk. Each thundering of gunfire that slammed into the superstructure of Bespin, rattled Khargav’s mind and shook his resolve as he tried to piece together some semblance of control.

 

The building he was in, turned out to be a hotel. There were rooms honeycombed through the interior of the structure that ran up a large central staircase. There were twenty floors, and Khargav was tearing his way through floor five as a myriad of troops and civilians rained down upon him. Each of them was equipped to fight and they all peppered him with bolts as he rushed frantically up the stairs. A man with the name Wilhelm printed on the front of his denim jacket, fell from the railing of the central staircase as Khargav pushed his way forward. A blood-curdling scream rang out as Wilhelm fell and presumably crashed to the floor with a loud crunch.

 

One after another they fell. One after another, blood crashed in waves of crimson across his claws. The giant feline’s tenacity defied logic or expectation. Men started to gang up on the feline, trying to toss him down the stairs, but the Togorian’s rage grew and they met their fate. Jaws hit the steel of stair and floor alike and claws rent flesh and bone like they were naught but tissue and glass. But, fatigue and weariness began to tug at the Togorian’s muscles. They cried out to the monster’s mind in a last-ditch effort to regain control of the panicked beast.

 

Khargav’s pupils shrunk a degree and he sighed heavily as he sunk his claws three inches deep into a man’s throat, pulling some of his larynx free. The man gurgled his last breaths and his death signaled a brief decline in the troop activity. The Togorian had made it to the seventh floor and stood, breathing and waiting at the top of the flight he’d scaled. Silent and haggard, the Togorian scanned this level for any open room. He wanted to hide; to lick his wounds and calm down. This rage would get him killed and although he could take quite a beating, he still had his limits.

 

One room, five feet from his position, was wide open. The automatic door had been triggered not too long ago, likely from one of the men that had assaulted him. Khargav barreled into it and smashed his claw into the door mechanism, jamming it shut.

 

Too late, he turned to find a small girl standing about ten feet away. She was standing, open-eyed, at the portal between the kitchen and the front room. The girl held a large stuffed animal in her arms and was at a loss for words. Khargav was matted with blood, his armor was singed, and his face was a little mussed. But the girl’s eyes were stunning; green with little blue stars inside. Kazheera… You must be three now.

 

Immediately, as if washed completely from his brain, the Togorian’s fury vanished. The massive feline dropped to his side when the pain of his wounds caught up to him. He scrambled for a moment to regain balance with his digitigrade limbs and turned to find a small blaster pistol aimed right at his forehead. The pistol had been hidden in the stuffed animal and was now held, trembling in the little girl’s hands.

 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now?” The little girl said, her voice echoing the motion of her nervous hands.

 

Khargav sighed wanly and groaned as a new pain afflicted his shoulders. The large cat shuffled a little to remove dirt from his fur and settled, sitting on the ground and staring at the girl. His eyes were big pools of blue. Sorrow drew the sea that his memories sailed across and he could not raise a hand to kill the girl. Her threat was beyond explicit. And now that Khargav’s foolishness had caught him, there was nothing to do but accept his fate.

 

“I can’t,” Khargav said. “I have infiltrated your home. You have every right to kill me.”

 

The little girl hesitated, her finger on the trigger. Her father had taught her numerous times how to hold a gun and how to shoot. And he knew that she would one day find herself in this position. But now, it was different. It was one thing to shoot a practice dummy and quite another to shoot a living breathing thing. Even if it was a monster; even if it had committed terrible deeds; she wasn’t sure she had the strength to kill it. She’d never killed anything before and the idea seemed too extreme for her to comprehend. And, she had to admit, it was strange that the beast hadn’t attacked her.

 

“Why did you give up? Why fight at all?” the girl asked, her eyes glittering in the low light of the apartment and her fingers never leaving the trigger.

 

Khargav cocked his head to the side a little and licked at his paw, trying to remove dirt and grime from a burn wound. He winced as the pain glared at his attempts to perform amateur triage, but he proceeded nonetheless. When he finished, he looked at the girl again and sighed through his bloodied snout.

 

“Fighting is a way of life for my people. I fight like others put on clothes. It is not a question as to why I fight, but who I fight and what I fight for.” Khargav mumbled, the pain in his shoulders spiking again. The girl indicated that she wanted him to continue and Khargav begrudgingly agreed. She did have a blaster leveled at his face. “I used to fight beasts, and bring meat home for the other Togorians in my village. I used to find peace in the fighting I did to provide for and protect my family. But, after my exile, I have lost direction. I no longer truly know who to fight and where to go. I am a soldier without a field to fight; without an opponent to face. I used to fight for my daughter and soulmate. But I can no longer see them. I am not allowed to return home. So, I fight for others. I follow other commands and go where they tell me to go. It is… difficult.”

 

Khargav lowered his head to the ground and laid fully upon the cheap carpeting that was now stained with his blood. He placed his head in between his two paws and let out a large weary breath. “You remind me a lot of her. Of Kazheera… I miss her very much.”

 

The girl wasn’t going to give up her guard that easy. She was trapped in her own apartment as a war was waged in the main square. But she had to admit, something about the cat’s story perked her interest. That, and despite the blood caked on its fur, she kind of wanted to pet it. She fought the urge to get so close, but her mind wandered, trying to buy time. Someone would rescue her.

 

“K-kazheera? Tell me about her. If you don’t mind.”

 

The Togorian’s weary expression was graced with a brief smile. “What would you like to know?”

[Beck Pilon]

The chaos that was ensuing was all worth it. Even with numbers against the Remnant, they knew they had to fight, and they knew that their training was far superior to their foes. It wasn't as far off as a naked eye might assume. Alpha, Beta, Zeta, and Omega kept their push forward, their skill sets were designed to keep the main opposing forces eyes upon them. They were back by a good two hundred to four hundred special forces that were pushing the frontline, their object would seem random to anyone untrained with commando techniques, which was where they were sure that Major Pilon was betting on. Each move was designed to cause damage to structures and buildings that held a high population. They would use rocket launchers, thermal detonators, EMPs, charges, and any other forms of damage that they had at their disposal while the special forces were to draw the crowd to them. It was a game of dejarik being played out on Cloud City.

 

Rancor, Nexu, and Black Star were moving quickly and softly through halls, shooting like a team who have memorized their path well and knew the outcomes that were well on their way. Even when they turned the corner and had some heavier resistance, Black Star pulled out, separating and moving out a window to land street side to keep their movement steady. They held no special forces to back them up, and many of the officers left to do raids of their own. But their mission was a ruse. It was all apart of Pilon's grand scheme, which would help spread thin the forces they fought. Rancor and Nexu needed to find the main reactor, Black Star needed only to get within a hundred yards of the place to complete their mission.

 

Beck marched down a hall along side Malign and Turpitude towards the Head Quarters. As they turned a corner, they found a mother and three small children. Beck had trained the commando units well. They opened fire and dropped the four bodies. Beck continued his march down the hall before stopping at a turbolift that would take them to the floor that would allow for them to begin to gain access to the main HQ. "Black Sun is no random fool. That floor will have some of the best of their troops waiting for us.... Let's see if we can't get them to come down to us. MC07, plug into the wall security. Send them bug Dormant and see if we can't piss them off. Turpitude, lets make things interesting. Skyfall maneuver." Beck took a step back and watched as his two personal commando units went to work to carry out his orders. The bug wouldn't do any damage, but it would piss someone off who doesn't like to watch screens flicker and cut in and out. It was an easy bug created by the Rebirth project, and used a few times to create an annoyance to opposing forces commando units would face. Plus, it was easy to send even in a very complicated security system. Skyfall maneuver on the other hand... Two EMP mine placed around the shaft of a turbolift always caused an entire floor to go dark and send a turbolift in a free fall leaving the means to reach said commando unit on their terms.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Cities were dangerous places, now even the most pristine city in the clouds of Bespin was suffering the fate of many beautiful cities when touched by the black gloves of the Imperial Stormtrooper corps. Destruction. As buildings fell, the locations of the Stormtroopers were tracked by a mix of civilians, agents, and the ever present air cover. It was this air superiority that allowed the Black Sun to fiercely engage the imperials as they went from city block to city block. A joint group of 5000 heavily armed Wing Guard with air support began to engage the outnumbered imperial troops on the surface. With their corvette neutralized they would not stand much of a chance.

 

As the Rancor, Nexu, and Black Star teams began to make their moves, the control rooms in the command tower tracked them through the CCTV systems in cloud city. Or at least tried to as cameras were damaged or destroyed. A control officer named Elizabeth Tarnassin, A young human female from Bespin, watched Beck and his troops mow down a group of children through the holocomeras and brought her gloved hand to her mouth to muffle a cry of terror. She marked the threat a main priority and tracked them to the turbolift. Her screen flickered as she watched and she locked the turbolift down. Bulkhead doors out of the main passageways and the four stairwells shut and locked. The only way to get there would be through the stairways. She placed a call and provisional governor Cathryne dispatched a group of six hundred men from the Wing Guard through the four main stairways to converge on the lower level where Beck and his men were identified. They carried a mix of heavy and light weapons. There would be no escape for Beck, he would have to fight his way back out of the self made trap.

 

The remaining mobile 2000 men on the control level took cover and prepared for the Imperial Commando units. The Wing Guard of the 25th level was ready for action against the tracked Rancor, Nexu, and Black Star units. Several large units of several hundred were dispatched to find and destroy the imperial units while the rest bunkered down. In the command center alongside the provisional governor, Elizabeth began the process of counter hacking. With a few keystrokes, all consoles and wall access below the main control room were locked down and disabled. The bug was isolated and counter hacking began. If the Imperials wanted out of their trap, they would have to blast their way out.

 

Elsewhere three wing guard began to approach the building where Khargav talked to a young girl. Their intent was hostile. Working as a team they approached rapidly, their weapons set to kill and their black plastoid armour glistening against the distant bespin sky.

[Khargav]

The girl’s expression softened a little, even though her hold of the blaster was not relaxed in the slightest. Her name, which she refused to divulge to the enemy, was unimportant. But her father was a member of provisional governor Cathryne Atali’s commando guard and he’d been calling in every few minutes to check on her. His next call was due soon. As long as she kept this monster talking, she’d be golden. Some part of her felt a little endeared to the large cat’s story. And the giddy more girlish part of her was conflicted on a deeper more whimsical level. But she stifled all of that. This was important. She didn’t want to die here; no matter what.

 

“Umm… Well, let’s start with, who is Kazheera?” the girl said, faking sincerity. Although, it was clear, that some part of her was genuinely curious.

 

Khargav heaved a large sigh, wincing slightly when his wounded leg stretched on the open floor and looked up at the little girl with mist in his eyes. He could vaguely hear steps clattering outside the door and plasma torches being fired, but most of him had already given in. He was resigned to his fate. It was disgraceful, but Khargav was not worthy of death by combat. He had disgraced himself long ago and was doing what he could to embrace what little paths he had left open.

 

“She was… is… my daughter. And she should be around three years old now.” Khargav said. Liquid built to the corners of the beast’s gaze as he spoke and was held at bay, framing the Togorian’s brilliant blue eyes. “She had white fur like mine, but black spots right under her eyes. Her face, last I saw it, was beautifully simple with an adorable light pink nose. Her laugh was small and squeaky and ended in a small snorting sound that left Zhara and I laughing. I could hold all of her in the crook of my arm. My little Kazheera …”

 

Each word stabbed like a needle in his heart. And each description drew power from his defenses until a steady fall of tears released from the corners of his weary eyes. “She was the light of my life. I swore to protect her.”

 

A small beep issued from further in the apartment, indicating the girl’s father’s call and briefly interrupting the girl’s thoughts. But she was afraid to move. She didn’t know if, when she walked backward to answer the call, the monster in front of her would take the advantage and cut her down. Was it worth the risk? She asked herself as the big cat continued its story. If it wasn’t, she didn’t like the possible outcome. If it was… She wasn’t sure.

 

Small sympathetic tears brushed her cheek at the cat’s sorrowful admission. But she fought the immersion and started walking backward with slow slight steps. Whether the risk was dire or not, not picking up the call would be worse. If she didn’t send word back to her father, then her father might risk leaving the governor’s side to come rescue her. And while that sounded nice, she respected his position enough to not disrupt his duty.

 

<< Black Adder to Garden Snake. What’s your status? >>

 

The little girl reached her left hand to the comm device on the dining room table and flicked the outgoing button, watching the blubbering feline as she did so. She lifted the device to her mouth and responded:

 

<< Garden Snake to Black Adder. The garden is clear for now. Continue with Cobra. >>

 

A sound of contentment came from the other line and then a response.

 

<< Roger that Garden Snake. Stay safe. >>

 

Once the call was finished, the little girl replaced the comm and started to shuffle back to the Togorian who apparently hadn’t noticed her movement at all. Interesting… Does he not care? Why?

 

The Togorian followed the girl with his eyes even as he cried and tracked her movements. But he wasn’t going to intervene. Why should he? It wouldn’t lead to anything. And, even before he had a daughter of his own, he vowed never to kill children. It was his philosophy. Children were capable of great good or great evil, but until they grew and committed to a certain path, they were innocent in the eyes of war and fighting.

 

Khargav’s tears abated briefly and he looked up at the girl, his ears perking a little as she returned to where she was standing before. Curiosity begged his inquisition, but he sought answers with no hostility. “Why didn’t you report me? And, snakes? What is this?”

[Beck Pilon]

Black Star squad began to throw small cylinders upon reaching their target point. The cylinders were weightless, as a cylinder of of spices would weigh more. They stopped showing at the cameras on purpose, as they were trying to get caught. They were trying to have the enemy pick up their cylinders for them, they were trying to draw more troops in their direction. Meanwhile, Rancor and Nexu began to engage before the the main reactor area, trying to make a scene. They would throw grenades and detonators towards the doors and troops in a vain attempt to get them to move or to come closer to them. Their squads had the sole mission of waiting. They just needed to play hide and seek until Beck gave the signal that their time playing the ruse was over.

 

Major Pilon felt slightly confident upon getting the report that the main control had fought against the spike Dormant. They also were converging on their location due to the Skyfall maneuver. It was just as he suspected they would. For Beck, it meant that he now controlled the board. In this game of dejarik now being played, he was making the moves that would win or lose the game.

 

"Alright MC-07, link the Black Death spike and plug it in. Let's see what sort of fun we can have now. Turpitude, seal that door and make it hard to breach. The rest of Malign, set up protective cover. They will come in storming, but it will be too late. Signal for Rancor, Nexu, and Black Star to magnetize, I want this to be fun."

 

"Major, Black Death is linked. Which system should I target?"

 

"Target the main computer." Beck turned and watched the commandos prepare for the defense of the hall they were in. Now we wait...

[Khargav]

The girl’s face tightened a little. She refused to surrender any vulnerability. The fact she was nine years old and cute as a button made visual deceit a little hard to perform. But her father was good at teaching her how to protect herself. He was part of a criminal organization that was privy to a lot of hazardous situations, so she was used to the tactics that came with self-preservation.

 

“Easy code names. And, why should I? Do you want me to tell on you?” The girl retorted, a hint of youthful resistance laden in her pre-pubescent soprano.

 

Khargav grunted a little. The effects of his fallen adrenaline high were beginning to fade. Searing chutes of pain began to cascade the length of his back. He attempted to wrest control of his arm, but burning stabbed his mind and triggered a reactive full-body recoil. Despite a growing interest to move on and find some way to escape his death, Khargav was finding groaning contentment in the fibers of his muscles. With every motion, there was an equal resistance; almost begging the question: what was the point? Did he leave and continue in the struggle between political giants that he couldn’t understand? Or did he stay and try to plead for his life to… Drift among the stars? The fizzing sound of the plasma cutters pricked his weary mind, indicating that he didn’t have a lot of time to flounder with indecision. But, what indecision was there to flounder with? Life be damned, right? There was no living with the Black Sun. There was no living with the Imperials. And there was no living with his family. There was no situation that he desired more than to just curl up and cease existing. His people cast him out. And all the rage in the world would not justify his need. Deaths of countless men and women would not assuage his pain. And the anguish he felt would find no respite. It would continue to haunt him wherever he roamed.

 

Just as the Togorian squirmed in pain, the little girl heard her father’s comm device come to life again.

 

<< Garden snake, I’ve encountered heavy resistance. The Imperials have broken through and the governor ordered me to cover one of the perimeter checkpoints I ne-Ckshhhhhhhhhh….>>

 

The line died.

 

Static reigned.

 

And then, when the transmission ended.

 

• Silence…

 

The girl’s eyes began to well. Her innocent pale face turned into a furious snarl and she closed the trigger on her blaster pistol, sending waves of pain through Khargav’s arm. Her aim had shifted. She seemed content to cause him pain and shoot at his hand instead of outright killing him by shooting at his face as she had originally intended.

 

“WHY!” She cried; more a demand than a question. “WHY?!”

 

Khargav’s mind swam with the brilliance of pain once more. Indecisive wanderings were consumed with iron hot coals of all-consuming pain. The Togorian tried to make sense of his mission, but could not form a cohesive answer. He tried to rummage for some words to appease her. But she didn’t seem welcome to them. She fired once more into his arm and then proceeded to cry big whale tears. Her face was swollen and red with a feeling the Khargav deeply understood. He desperately wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to help her. The instinctive side of him wished to assail the Imperials for making her feel this way – which surprised him – but the pain of the moment quieted his speculation and only welcomed more pain. That, and he was dimly aware that his comforting would only increase the volatility of her emotions.

 

“I WANT YOU AND ALL YOUR FRIENDS TO DIE. YOU HEAR ME!?!” The girl screamed, hysterically. With one pull of the trigger and her aim corrected to Khargav’s exposed head, the Togorian thought it was all over. He thought he would be free to let go and join oblivion. But, with the rest of his mind occupied, the Togorian felt a massive boom rock the foundations of the building. His ears felt the concussive waves, his chest against the floor felt the massive tremors, and the equilibrium of his whole body started to falter. The stability of the hotel started to rock and the girl’s shot missed, scorching the Togorian’s ear. The concussive force continued to test the strength of the floor beneath both of them, and Khargav’s thoughts scrambled.

 

Wha-Wh-How-Whe?

 

The Togorian looked around, denying the screaming anthem of pain in his ears and tried to scramble for some semblance of balance as the wild child continued to try and shoot at him. When his eyes spotted the window, he determined his course of action. But, what of the girl?

 

Was he to leave her and just watch as the building crumbled? Did she deserve it? Was it his choice?

 

Khargav’s barest instincts kicked him in the shins, calling him to move. He felt another burn in his leg as the rampaging girl kept shooting blind, but it did little to halt his charge. He caught the girl with his right arm as he sprinted toward the closed bay window on the other side of the hotel room’s living room. Her crying form attempted to struggle against his powerful arm, but the meat of his form would not give. His motion was determined and his course was irreversible. Both hit the hard glass, Khargav assured that his body took the brunt, and they fell together, tumbling in the open air.

 

Blissful weightlessness gripped the Togorian’s senses and the wind pushing past him was dizzying him with its intensity. From this height, they would surely die. But he saved the girl, right? Right?

 

Why?

 

Khargav’s mind wrestled with his choices as the G forces knocked him unconscious. The girl, who was pointed toward Khargav’s rear, struggled to get free when she noticed the repulsor pack still attached to Khargav’s back. She flailed madly with her hands and let go of the blaster pistol to trigger the mechanism and stop them both from splatting to the ground. However, the pack was damaged. And, even though it halted a fair amount of their momentum, they still collided roughly with the ground and tumbled away. Glass, blood and building debris spread everywhere. The hotel started to crumble and fall in the opposite direction, which was lucky. But pieces of detritus still blew out to where the two of them landed. One smashed into the side of Khargav’s chest, and another smacked the girl on the head.

 

Cut, and battered, the girl wriggled out of Khargav’s arm and sat up. Her eyes were wide. She looked at the hotel as it fell away from her and gaped. Tears continued to fall down her face and she struggled with what to do. The body of Khargav was splayed out beside her. And, despite her best efforts, he wasn’t moving.

 

Why did he try to save me?

 

The girl was trembling. She didn’t know what to do. She was told to stay home and stay safe. But her home was rubble and her father was gone. Her mother... She didn’t even want to think about that cow right now. What would she do now? Where would she go? Would it be worth staying here?

 

She looked to the left and to the right, aimless misery reflected in her eyes. I just. I just want my Daddy.

 

Moments passed. More rubble fell to the ground around them, narrowly avoiding their position, but explosions echoed from further away, indicating more buildings that were being destroyed in a very similar way. Khargav trembled. The impact seemed to rattle what was left of his mind, but little of his mind was coherent. Most of his motor functions were fed simply by will. Every synapse in his brain begged him to stay inert. Every part of his body cried to him and wept with each belabored push of his frail limbs.

 

But he managed to wrestle his paw to the girl’s face. It was a simple gesture and one the girl was too distraught to resist. One part of his matted furry paw wiped away her tears, giving the girl something to hold onto, no matter how frail his strength may have been. She expected retaliation. She expected fury. And she was too caught in her own moment to adequately reflect on resistance.

 

Vague thoughts swam through Khargav's mind, bringing images of his past. He felt beholden to this girl for showing him sanity. But, deeper than that, his protective heart pulled his limp frame like a marionette. He would not see this girl die. He knew not of other girls if there were any. But he wouldn’t let this girl die. Willful obstinacy powered his form and propelled him to his feet. He limped and it was clear he would need medical attention soon. But fierce, foolish determination and pride swallowed the blinding pain. Facsimiles of strength gave him the illusion of hope and motivated him to help the balled-up girl that was still reeling from the destruction of everything she held dear.

 

“Where is the nearest way off this crazy thing?” Khargav asked. His voice was muddled with gurgles and rasps. More cuts and burns littered his massive form, but his tone was unwavering if a little sardonic.

 

The girl was a heap of sobs and of little help. But with persistence, Khargav was given instructions. With begrudging permission, Khargav hoisted the girl onto his back and pushed on. Her weight added more fuel to the fiery coals that burned in his mind. Yet, simultaneously, Khargav never felt lighter.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

As the battle raged all over cloud city, the battle in the main computer control room continued as well. With the imperials already cut off from all computer and wall port access, the bug continuing to put up a fight, the Black Sun officer Elizabeth Tarnassin, simply cut power to all levels the imperials were on. Drenching Beck and his men in darkness. Repulsorlift generators on those levels had backup power banks, and while it might put the facility at risk if somehow the Imperials below the surface broke out of their containment, for now they were safe. Elizabeth, made sure that firewalls were erected around the bug again to stop its growth. With no power, and a hundred layers of security, agents, duracrete, durasteel, and naturally built defenses that came with modern reactors. Elizabeth and Cathryne were not overly concerned as the imperial forces on the surface were mopped up. They had caused immeasurable damage to civilians on the surface. The Galaxy would know about it. Quarter was given to the Imperials who surrendered. With their corvette/air support taken out, they were heavily outgunned. Hopefully some would surrender.

 

Outside the main reactor/control/computer facility, the several hundred Black sun agents of the Wing Guard engaged Black Star unit. Some agents were fooled by tossed cylinders and dove for cover, but when they didn’t explode, they continued their attack on the imperial infiltration units. Rancor and Nexu squads were heavily engaged by the men guarding the single entrance to the reactor/control/computer complex. Black sun was on the defense, but they were heavily armed with 8 pre set up E-Web emplacements. Twenty black sunners died behind their barricades, but they were replaced.

 

Nervously, Cathryne watched her holodisplay with a growing sense of fear. With no power to the levels the imperial commander was on, she couldn’t watch the engagement through cameras. This made her nervous and anxious. She had no clue how the assault on the entrenched Imperial was going.

 

The Wing Guard began their assault against the main door of Becks hallway. Thermal Detonator breaching charges were prepared and the first assault squad took their position. A five count began and then the final push.

[Beck Pilon]

The work that Black Star had accomplished was now coming to a fruition. They had not yet finished this scattering of cover cylinders, which were in fact, ION and EMP charges, all over near the reactor facility. They were linked with the computer spike, Black Death, which when it lost traction, either through being defeated or shut down, would act as the pin being pulled, having all 36 different charges go off from where they were. The commando unit were still holding their last ones together, but they had managed to get close enough to their objective that the large scale of the ION and EMP blast would still carry out it's purpose: To shut down power around the reactor. The blast threw all six members of their unit, ripping apart some of their armor, but not doing enough damage to harm to commandos themselves. Their death would come later...

 

Rancor and Nexu heard the blast before they saw and felt the results. It took around 5 seconds before they felt it, the city, started a slow free fall as it lost it's power to the reactor and repulsors. Now the 12 man team knew that they had 30-60 seconds before power of the backups would kick in and restore power and keep the station from free falling. So upon hearing the blast, they left their cover and began to move towards the doors with all speed and hurriedness with a mission in mind. With their feet magnetized, they were able to keep their footing as they ran, unlike the Wing Guard which would now be lifted to the ceiling with the temporary free fall. By the time the commando units had entered the room, they had only 4 members left, losing 8 others and about fifteen seconds. They now had ten seconds to take out as many repulsors as they could, maybe more if the facility didn't operate like a military.

 

Beck smiled wide as their level lost power. Almost immediately, he turned towards his two command units.

 

"Turpitude, hold the back the coming storm. Malign, liquid cables. We're going for the head if Rancor and Nexu can't accomplish their mission in time."

 

They turned towards the main turbolift with their own feet magnetized, and fired their cables up. With the city in free fall, Beck and Malign moved towards their own death, as the cables would speed them up too much and have them splatted all over the top of the tower, or arrive at their target just as the power would be restored, which would give them a chance at the surprise to destroy everyone who protected the administration level. They oddly also wipe out any and all databases.

 

<< Killshot on the ENTIRE Cloud City >>

[Khargav]

Khargav's mind swam with a menagerie of impulses. Most of which, begged him to stop. The little girl, that had been resisting his help for the past few minutes, was now resting on his back. Khargav practically nestled the bulk of his lower intestines in the crook of his right arm when he approached the Black Sun checkpoint outside the starport with his hands out and empty. He showed no weapons and fought his own impulses to stay standing. He carefully approached the posted guard until they asked him to stop and watched as a spatter of blood laden drool spilled from his broken jaw.

 

"Hello," Khargav said, the words stabbing into the base of his skull. "May I take a ship so I can leave this place?" The notion was weird, coming from a wounded soldier and one that seemed foreign in more ways than one. But Khargav did not realize how odd that question was. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He was not prepared for all social outcomes. And, to be perfectly honest, he didn’t really care.

 

The soldiers considered the wounded feline as he approached. His armor was ruined and blasted, his entrails spilling almost like a rope from his torso. They were taken aback and almost shot him dead but their training and knowledge held them back. For this was no Imperial storm commando. They only used humans. He must have been one of the private bodyguards that Senator Mylos Karin employed as security at his private suite in the Silver Linque casino. That casino tower had been brought down by the imperial with much loss of life. They beckoned him through their lines and towards one of the last remaining evacuation ships black sun had mustered for the civilian population.

 

Surprised by the sudden response, Khargav was too tired and consumed with pain to correct their mistake. Instead, once nestled in the confines of the evac ship, Khargav passed out. Within moments of the last boarding call, the evac ship made for space as quickly as it could. The lives of everyone on board were at stake.

 

<< Killshot Defense >>

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The city in the clouds was always considered a hazardous place to live, originally a mining colony and eventually a tourist destination, the city itself was located in the sparse habitable zone of the Gas Giant. A slight variation of just a couple hundred meters could mean the death of a great many foreign visitors. As such, the 36,000 repulsorlift engines that kept the city afloat were not reliant on a single power source. They had their own reactors and generators. That would be suicide for ten million innocents if a single person hit a wrong switch or if the main reactor core needed maintenance. As such the repulsorlifts that kept the city afloat had multiple well tuned backup systems. Even though handheld grenade sized EMPs tossed outside of a complex hundreds of meters wide were hardly enough to knock down a reactor, if they did, the backup systems would come online and keep the city afloat without a drop in altitude. Backup systems would not wait for twenty seconds of freefall and kill an entire city. The agents kept in place though many of their weapon systems were knocked out by the handheld EMP blasts, they fought on. The Wing Guard assaulting Beck’s position continued to fire as did the couple hundred agents attacking the other imperial units. If somehow the city did come down, the Imperial stormtroopers would have to go down another couple hundred levels to attack the repulsorlift engines. Inside the reactor/administration facility, Cathryne and Elizabeth hunkered down with a dozen men and prepared for a final fight if they got through the many locked doors.

 

<>

[Ary the Grey]

Okay, good posts gentlemen. Beck, your posts are very pinpoint and directed and I'm loving them. But the agents bring up a very good point in their defense, conceding a battle to win a war, putting things in proportion. And realistically, it does make sense that a floating city that many, many thousands of people live and work on would have backups upon backups for something so critical to keeping those citizens alive and not a singular weak point that can be 'naded save for maybe a main command center. And for that reason, this is ruled:

 

<>

 

Fight on!

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

((Nothing personal meant by this, I really do have to move on. Learned my lesson last time. Three Day of the imperial forces and Beck))

 

In the skies above Bespin, the defeated Clout Lord hung suspended over the burning city of bespin. The thousands of tractor beams that normally controlled the inflow of gas and ships had caught the massive ship in their clutches, with most of the high level officers having jumped to the surface, the remaining staff quickly accepted the offers of surrender from the City defensive garrison, the 40 remaining crew were given quarter when the ship was brought slowly and gently onto a industrial landing bay. The ship would be repaired over the coming weeks. The crew were treated gently and were held for ransom, along with the 400 odd remaining troopers that were not special operation commandos. Though reprisals for lost family members and buildings stacked to the gills with children were relatively common, only a couple dozen stormtroopers were summarily executed by the mobs of wing guard and armed civilians. The rest were rounded up and placed in the central holding facility for processing and ransom.

 

The Imperial Commando Teams and their leader (Beck) did not take up the offer of surrender and fought a long and exhaustive battle that claimed the lives of several hundred Wing Guard before a mix of thermal detonators and pure man power brought them down. They never were able to breach the control generator, though they made a valiant attempt. An hour later, Cathryne, the provisional governor made an announcement of the Imperial Defeat, and dispatched a report to the Vigos about the expensive victory. It would take many millions of credits to repair the beautiful cityscape. Almost a quarter million civilians would be counted as casualties at the end of the day, their homes in lofty towers felled like trees by the imperial remnant. It was over, for now.

[Delta73]

The City State of Bespin Cloud City, remained loyal to its builder and commander, Delta73, and its occupants, troops, and captured Imperial Cruiser Clout Lord ignored the orders of Zalis.

 

The captured imperial troops and ship were dispatched to Korriban. The Black Sun wing guard stayed and began to fortify and rebuild the city.

[AVATAR Kain]

A smaller construction fleet dropped out of hyperspace, completely staffed by civilians but paid for and led by Sith affiliated foremen. After some introductions and explanations, they immediately got to work building Cloud City back up to how it had been before the attack, with eventual plans to fortify the city from another assault and even expand the tibanna mining operations on the planet with other floating repositories and refineries. Bespin would be made far more efficient as a producer and center of trade and tourism than it currently was, and Black Sun would prosper greatly because of the generosity of the Sith. Of course, much of the future plans depended heavily on Black Sun dealing tibanna almost exclusively to the Sith for their armada, but that was merely formalities. The two factions had always more or less supported each other, and it was now time for the Sith to shelter Black Sun in their time of need. The construction would occur without strings attached, though many of the foremen had never heard of the engineer that designed the blueprints they were working with, an 'A. Cayne', they also weren't paid to ask questions.

[Delta73]

The Building of a Golan 1 platform begins to further solidify Black Sun control of the system as the last remnants of the Imperial attack are repaired.

 

ETA: 10/3/2017

[Delta73]

Construction of a Shield System begins for Cloud City with the estimated completion date of 11/29/2017

[Delta73]

The planetary shield is erected and the millions of man hours put into its construction not entirely wasted.

 

Below the shield, the production of Tibanna was due to be doubled. A price war would soon begin.

[Ambrose Veshok]

Imperial Gray. It seemed that or white was the color of choice for any would-be galaxy spanning government. Must have something to do with the uniformity of it all Ambrose thought to himself as he ran the rough gray, albeit it clean, towel over his face to clear away at least a layer of the sweat that had, until then, been trickling down his brow from his dirty dark blonde head of hair. Slinging the towel over his shoulder, the storm trooper set off away from the zero-grav training room he had spent the last 45 minutes in aboard the Misericordia.

 

The trooper’s loose gray shirt was thoroughly soaked with sweat. All Ambrose wanted at that moment was to get back to his bunk, grab a fresh change of clothes and hit the refresher for a shower. Trudging down the back hallways of the massive star destroyer he saw very little of the myriad of naval personnel that called the massive ship home for months at a time; just like he wanted. There was no sense tempting fate by walking the main corridors and running into some high-ranking never-seen-real-combat commanding officer or ‘nother; besides, this way was shorter, albeit dimmer and still painted in that famously Imperial Gray!

 

The endless expanse of gray paint over gray durasteel was only interrupted by the occasional viewport that gave a glimpse into the inky blackness of space beyond. That is, when the ship was not travelling faster than light, of course. Having entered the Anoat system several hours earlier, the viewports were open to the relative emptiness of space. Pausing as he passed one such port, Ambrose could see the planet Bespin in the distance, a gleaming jewel. ”More like a blood gem,” the storm trooper pondered aloud to no one in particular. Looks nice from up here, but no doubt those space pirates have turned it into another mini-Mos Eisley he thought, comparing the Black Sun controlled world, moreover the floating cityscape Cloud City, to one of the galaxy’s more famous dens' of iniquity.

 

Letting the thought pass from his mind, Ambrose shrugged and walked on. There would be plenty of time for pondering later. After all, in a short enough time it was hoped that he along with his comrades in arms would be clunking down the metallic walkways of the planet, armed and ready to deal with said iniquities on a rather personal level.

 

Reaching his bunk, he mindlessly pulled out a fresh all black body glove, no sense dirtying anything else. Holding it up to the light, as if it could shine through the thin black material, the storm trooper sighed heavily. ”Sure isn’t the white thermal back on Ryloth.” I wonder what is going on back there he pondered, his thoughts whisking him back to where his battlegroup was stationed. Truth be told, Ambrose did not even know how many of his fellow 73rd Cold Weather Combat Battlegroup comrades were aboard. Sure he saw faces here and there of people he knew or had trained with; but something told him he’d been tasked to go along with this mission for his failings back on Nal Hutta.

 

Eyeballing the black body glove once more, he shrugged and tossed it atop the towel already over his shoulder. Getting a chance to wash one’s clothes aboard such a huge ship was sometimes more of a pain than one would think. With that, Ambrose turned and made his way for the nearest refresher. This shower, as cold as he could get it, was going to feel wonderful.

[Raven Nasra]

The Imperial Main Battlegroup Thunder erupted from hyperspace in a blur of black painted hull over the pale gas giant of Bespin. Led by the brilliant flagship of the imperial navy, the Misericordia, with its thick black bulkheads and heavy turbolasers the Battlegroup Thunder began its slow pattern approach on the city of evil. Once a proud institute, Cloud city had now been permanenatly corrupted by its funding of terrorist attacks from Coruscant to Kashyyyk. Raven stood beside the admiral’s chair as she watched flight after flight of TIE defenders launch, followed by the J-983 Javelin fighterbombers. A new a sleek design, laid down only a few months before to replace the large array of older and aging bombers that the Imperial Navy had relied on for generations.

 

She was broken from her revelry by the TAC officer calling out the results of the first two pings from the high spectrum scanning sweeps sent out by the powerful scanning arrays hosted by the Fiat Lux.

 

“Scans are revealing a Golan Defensive platform along with a planetary shield based off of the main city, and a large defensive garrison.”

 

Raven considered a moment before pointing back to the TAC officer with a black gloved hand.

 

“Keep the defensive screen of fighters, frigates, and corvettes in place, prepare for planetary bombardment.” She pointed to the communications officer. “Patch me through to a broad spectrum communication to the system.” A second later the communication’s officer pointed back at her and gave a nod of his blond head.

 

“Black Sun battlestation Cloud City, you are hereby under seizure by the Imperial Navy for crimes against civilization. There is no escape for you, surrender or die.”

 

It was short, it was sweet, it was Imperial.

 

 

 

Battlegroup Thunder

AP: 19

 

Fiat Lux

Ship Class: Star Destroyer

Type: Imperial II

Crew: 40,000 crew

Armaments:

50 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries

75 Turbolaser Batteries

20 Heavy Ion Cannons

8 Octuple barbette turbolaser

4 Concussion Missile Launchers

10 Heavy Tractor Beam Projectors

Compliment: 4,000 Troops, 4 TIE Defender squadrons, 4 J-983 Javelin squadrons

AP: 4

 

 

Misericordia

Ship Class: Star Destroyer

Type: Imperial II

Crew: 40,000 crew

Armaments:

50 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries

75 Turbolaser Batteries

20 Heavy Ion Cannons

8 Octuple barbette turbolaser

4 Concussion Missile Launchers

10 Heavy Tractor Beam Projectors

Compliment: 4,000 Troops, 4 TIE Defender squadrons, 4 J-983 Javelin squadrons

AP: 4

 

Hand of Valour

Ship Class: Frigate

Type: Shockwave Class Assault Frigate

Crew: 1500

Starfighter/Troop Complement:

2 Squadron TIE Defenders

2 J-983 Javelin squadrons

2000 Assault troops

Armaments:

4 Plasma Missile Turrets

4 Ion Cannons

8 Concussion Missile Turrets

16 Heavy Slugthrower Cannons

8 Medium Point Defense Cannons

AP: 2

 

Admiral Adripov

Ship Class: Frigate

Type: Corona-Class Frigate

Crew: 850

Starfighter/Troop Complement:

2 Squadron TIE Defenders

2 J-983 Javelin squadrons

2000 Assault troops

Armaments:

15 Turbolaser Cannons

10 Laser Cannons

4 Ion Cannons

2 Heavy Tractor Beams

4 Point Defense Cannons

AP: 2

 

Eventuality of Justice

Ship Class: Cruiser

Type: Assault Frigate Mark II

Crew: 5000

Starfighter/Troop Complement:

4 Squadron TIE Defenders

2 J-983 Javelin squadrons

3000 Assault troops

Armaments:

15 Turbolaser Cannons

15 Laser Cannons

15 Quad Turbolasers

AP: 3

 

Consolatrix

Ship Class: Corvette

Type: DP20 Frigate

Crew: 100 crew

Compliment

1 TIE Defender Squadron

1 Skipray Blastboat Squadron

Armaments:

8 Double Turbolaser Cannons

6 Quad Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Launchers

AP: 1

 

Animarum

Ship Class: Corvette

Type: DP20 Frigate

Crew: 100 crew

Compliment

1 TIE Defender Squadron

1 Skipray Blastboat Squadron

Armaments:

8 Double Turbolaser Cannons

6 Quad Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Launchers

AP: 1

 

Saeculorum

Ship Class: Frigate

Type: Lancer Frigate

Crew: 900

Starfighter/Troop Complement:

2 TIE Defender Squadron

2 Skipray Blastboat Squadron

2000 Assault troops

Armament:

20 AG-2G2 quad laser cannons

AP: 2

 

[Beck Pilon]

Beck looked at the planet within the viewport of the Star Destroyer's bridge and smiled. The last time he was here, there was a storm of fire fights that he was able to manage against the planet. Now... He held much bigger guns within his corner. His vengeance would be swift and quick. This time, the Fiat Lux would be the planet's undoing.

 

"Alert all commands. Prepare the fighters and ready the cannons. Make sure that my five squads of commandos are ready to make planet fall. There will be no surrender this time around. We will crush Black Sun where they stand."

 

Beck watched as the TIE fighters began to launch from the hangar bay and begin their setup flight patterns. The small bomber squadron felt tiny to him, yet the amount of ships in space was far greater then what had he had ever witnessed before. His missions had always been small and relied more upon quick and fast entry. This time, it would be bombardment and the cruelest of hostile takeover. He was ready.

[The Black Sun Armada]

As the Imperial Battlegroup emerged over the small planet of Bespin, the Black Sun defenders scrambled to their positions. The hardy planetwide shield blossomed from the centre of the floating city, to envelop all structural weaknesses and the massive amount of stored spin sealed tibanna gas that was held there. Above the protective shield, the Golan platform stood alone, unable to ‘go to ground’ like the fighter compliments and protective troops that usually defended it. The 12 protective fighter squadrons ducked beneath the shield envelope before it closed, prepared to quickly overwhelm and destroy any landing operations that might try to penetrate the shield. Built to withstand months of orbital bombardment, and fed by spin sealed tibanna, there was little likelihood that the Remnant would be able to do anything at all to it.

 

Comm transmissions went out to the Imperial Fleet, asking for their surrender while the golan platform prepared its self destruct sequence as well as an impressive turbolaser barrage.

[Ambrose Veshok]

Stepping out of the ‘fresher, Ambrose grabbed a towel and quickly dried off before slipping into the skintight body glove that he’d wear beneath his standard Stormtrooper armament; turning to eyeball himself in a nearby mirror, he shook his head. A little short for a Stormtrooper he mused with a grimace. Ambrose shook the negativity from his mind as he made his way back to his bunk. just in time too. throwing his damp towel over the edge of his bed, his comm chimed pleasantly alerting him that the time had come to begin his end of preparations. Ambrose still had no idea what he was going to be doing here. Oh, how he wished he could return to his usual tasking as a Snowtrooper; sure the weather was cold, but he thrived in such harsh conditions. To survive was to win and to win was to survive.

 

Throwing a pair of Imperial gray shorts over his body glove to obscure some of the more defined features of his persona for the moment, Ambrose made his way towards the nearest computer terminal and quickly keyed in his login information. The startled expression on the veteran trooper’s face lasted only for a moment. It seemed with his promotion to Lieutenant, along came reassignment, at least for the time being. Plucked from his beloved cold weather combat group, Ambrose was being assigned command of a special missions platoon. Like him, the members had all been drawn from individuals with prior combat experience in a variety of demolitions, technical, or combat scenarios; unlike him, most of them seemed to be drawn from the standard elite Stormtrooper Corps. In fact, looking over the list, he did not see a single one of his newly assigned comrades that had even done a single stink in the Snowtrooper Corps. Great. Just great. They probably don’t like their caf lukewarm either…

 

Reading on, Ambrose grimaced again as he read their orders; this was not the standard assault the enemy stronghold that he was hoping. No, this was much more a survive and thrive mission. Alongside the rest of the Imperial forces in the system, the end goal was clearly the capture of Cloud City and by default, Bespin and her mining operations. His team’s task:

Disrupt the flow of supplies, communications, and reinforcements to any and all besieged areas of the city, lowering morale, and encouraging locale combatants and civilian personnel to turn on their current taskmasters and embrace Imperial control by any means necessary.

 

”Any means necessary?” he mumbled to himself, ”…the kriff does that mean?!” Looking over the list of his newly assigned comrades-in-arms again, he was shocked to see plenty of individuals with a less than savory background. Sure they were all well beyond competent; but reprimands for excessive force, destruction, or loss of life, usually did not bode well when trying to win friends and influence people.

 

Signing out, Ambrose rose to his feet. This would be interesting to say the least. Turning, he made his way down the corridors to where the rest of his team was assembling. Thirty-seven men he had never heard of much less met before. They were about to put their necks on the line at his word. Don’t screw up Ambrose Veshok. Don’t you dare!

 

With an exhale he opened the door to the ready room and made his way to his equipment locker. Ambrose could feel the eyes of his fellows on him as he crossed the room. Once he reached his locker he turned to survey the room and the troopers in various stages of dress. ”Men, looks like we’ve got some problems to cause.” he said eyeballing the motley crew before him before allowing a smile to crack across his stern face, ”Better hope they left their luck AT the tables and their dancers ON the tables. We’re gonna try and have some fun.” And with that, he turned, followed by several shouts of approval, and began to pull on his own Imperial armor, his mind buzzing over what they would be doing soon enough.

 

Did anyone say how we were supposed to get planetside?

[Raven Nasra]

The Imperial fleet turned their ion cannons on the Bespin Golan one. Hundreds of ion shots began their straight paths towards the small station, intent on disabling it completely. The combined might of the Imperial Battlegroup, if given enough time, would be able to overwhelm nearly anything.

 

“After the Golan goes down begin probing strikes on that shield, it will come down, and soon.”

 

Raven was confident, but she was well aware that there existed a substantial black sun fleet, and if they were indentured to the Sith, there was them to counter as well. She looked up to the top of the bridge and wished she knew how the joint allied strike by the GA and the Jedi was going on Onderon. Hopefully well.

 

<>

[Beck Pilon]

Beck watched from a tactical display screen as the Golan platform that Black Sun had stationed over this cursed planet began to make an attempt at protecting the city that floated like a bubble that needed to be popped. The shield that it helped to protect made his own anger rise up. The Fiat Lux would join the in parade of fire.

 

"Open all ION cannons upon that blasted Golan. Send all TIE Defender squadrons and our J-983 Javelin squadrons to help make a push against it! I want it eliminated!"

 

((Killshot Assist on the Golan))

[Ambrose Veshok]

Within the course of fifteen minutes, Lieutenant Ambrose and his newly assembled squad of ragtag Imperial miscreants were assembled; thirty-eight identical gray clad warriors, the arm of fear of the Imperial Remnant; a holdover from the fearsome reputation earned by the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps. A solid reputation to be sure as Ambrose as well as several of his comrades had been trained under the old Empire and some of its more draconian tactics. Looking over his command, Ambrose nodded, smiling beneath his helm. In addition to the standard equipped weapons of the Imperial Stormtrooper he noted that several had made some modifications, be they extra explosives, breaching charges, or not-strictly-authorized bits of weaponry. Normally, this would be a point that Ambrose would hammer home; being a by the books sort of guy. Their mission, however, was anything but by the books so he opted to overlook it.

 

The trooper’s built in comm unit was keyed to that of the ship they were aboard, and by extension, the battle taking place outside. It didn’t sound like the shield was going to be down any time soon. Still…..we have our orders… he pondered to himself, running over scenario after scenario from his days in combat, debriefings, and training operations from days gone by. Ambrose stood there, unmoving, as he stared off. To the casual observer it would seem that there was a room of thirty-seven storm troopers standing at attention with a single trooper staring back at them, not talking, not moving, one would not even be able to be sure if they were breathing or not.

 

And then he settled on it. A little known trick from an obscure book on military tactics from the Unknown Regions ”….That. Just. Might. Work!” he muttered to himself as he finished his thought aloud. He remembered that at least a few of his men were halfway decent pilots, and given that most of them were daredevils, risk takers, and malcontents, they might just go for his hair brained scheme.

 

Keying up their helmet comms, Ambrose briefly explained his idea. A series of nods and a few fist pumps were visible within the ranks as they turned and made their way towards the hangar bay. There, they divided into two groups of nineteen, each boarding a separate Black armored Imperial Dropship Transport. Each trooper had grabbed an emergency jetpack in case things went awry and they somehow managed to survive. Strapping themselves in, Ambrose settled himself into the gunner’s seat of the second ship.

 

In tandem, the duo of vessels lifted off and zipped with a low hum of their motors out of the hangar bay into space beyond. Dropping low along the fringes of the battle and rocketing away from the battlegroup in an attempt to put some distance between themselves and the thick of the battle, and those devastating turbolaser blasts….

Quickly they were joined by a small handful of TIE-based fighter craft that fell in behind of the two armored transports to help keep off any wayward Black Sun craft that felt the need to investigate. After all…their shield was up; what did they have to worry about?

 

The pilots aboard the duo of transports looped around so that they had a straight shot towards the planet. They were not going to attempt to skim through the shield. No, the transports were going to drive straight into the shields. Given that most planetary shields kept craft out by disabling on board electronics and forcing the vessels into a free fall, Ambrose hoped that they would be able to circumvent that particular problem through a potentially lethal work-around. ”On my signal, go dark. Pilots, take a ten count and kill everything. Ready….NOW.” At that, Ambrose reached up and dug a finger up into his helmet, shutting down the power flow to the built in electronics in his helmet and armor, before reaching down and removing the power packs from his weaponry. Across both ships, every trooper followed suit. The two pilots flipping their helms off and accelerating the ships towards the shield as fast as they could before flipping switches and twirling knobs, shutting down the ships' onboard electronics. Suddenly instead of flying aboard some of the most advanced landing craft in the galaxy, thirty-eight of the galaxy’s finest warriors were hurtling towards an energized shield of a gaseous planet in twin asteroids of man made metals, their lives completely in the hands of Ambrose’ harebrained scheme.

 

…any means necessary… that is what their orders had said. How better to disrupt the morale of the locals than having a highly trained of Imperial operatives planetside before the shields even dropped?

 

Provided the ships punched through the shields, the plan was for the pilots to quickly work to bring the ships back online as they plummeted into the Habitable Zone of the planet and potentially below into the thick noxious gases closer to the rethin core of the planet. From there, they could come back up and make a tactical entry into the city….provided they made it that far…..

 

 

((PLANETARY SHIELD INFILTRATION SHOT))

[The Black Sun Armada]

The few Black Sun ‘skeleton’ crew onboard the Golan Defense platform did their utmost to put every last shot into the blasted imperial fleet before it overwhelmed them with Ion. Gunning for the most vulnerable smaller frigates the Black Sun would go out in a blaze of glory. Or at least that was the hope. The commander onboard, a twi'lek of younger years sat in a seat far too large for her, surveying a crew of soldiers her own age. She was outraged by the fact that her small command would soon be kriffed to all hell.

 

“Kill them all!” She screeched at the top of her lungs.

 

((Disableshot Defense))

__________

 

The Black Sun had not skimped on some shield that would not even stop torpedoes raining down on their precious city in the clouds. Deflector shields like the planetary defense type were fickle things that sapped a great amount of power from the citadel, but they were designed to withstand months of orbital bombardment.

 

When the high intensity scanners and scopes in the city spotted the very fast moving shuttles hurtling straight down towards the city, the command centre was speechless. Shuttles of that speed would simply burst against deflector shields like rain drops on a coruscanti permacrete skybridge. The Provisional Governor Cathryne Atali, survivor of the last Imperial Incursion against the planet shook her fist at the distant shield, her voice almost sad.

 

“Have the guts to drop a bloody star destroyer on the shield not shuttles. Or at least something cool!”

 

When the shuttles hit the shields it would not be some kind of electronic defense it would instead be a hard wall of energy designed to keep out invaders, turbolasers, and general bombardment. It would be a fantastic opening to the battle, at least for those not smashed like a cake thrown onto the ground at a child's birthday party. Bodies would soon be skidding across energy shields in the void of empty atmosphere. Those not killed outright by kinetic impact, burned alive in their white armour like knights before a dragons breath.

 

How decidedly imperial.

 

 

((INFILTRATION SHOT DEFENSE))

[Raynuk Montar]

Empire vs Black Sun

 

The Empire has come back for round 2, and this time Beck brought friends! So there's two aspects of this Battle to deal with, and I will address them individually.

 

Golan I

: Between the massive force rallied against it and the skeleton crew, there is little doubt as to which way this goes. The Golan defense platform is eventually overwhelmed by Ion Cannon fire from the EIGHT large ships. effectively neutering it and doing so much more damage than the crew could handle. However, even short staffed, the platform did manage to do enough damage to cripple the Admiral Adripov, which ended up the closest target for the Golan. It is Not blow it up, but effectively take it out of the fight. **** is on fire yo'

 

<>

 

The Golan is dead in the....air? Water? Whatever. For the sake of brevity, I dont see a reason to require an actual KILLSHOT on it and blow it up (If that is even the Empire's desire), so if they wish they may blow it up in their next post, or leave it to be retrofitted should the Empire win out in the end.

 

 

 

Planetary Shield:

Two shuttles and a handful of support TIEs, vs. a planetary defense shield, with the idea being to ram through the shield. Given the nature of Black Sun's presence and willingness to essentially turtle up within the shield, I don't see there being much chance of the shield having openings of any sort (ie to fire outwards or get a long range transmission out) and would be neigh-impenetrable (like the one depicted in that lovely Rogue One gif).

 

<>

 

Sadly, while a cunning and potentially radical plan, Lt. Ambrose and his 37 squadmates, pilots, and cool shuttles are all reduced to stains, scorches, and smudges on the planetary shield. Yet the Empire's taskforce remains looming over Cloud City.

[Beck Pilon]

“Legendary.” It was the single thing Beck said out loud after the ION canons brought down the Golan. It was almost as if he was finishing a sentence from a previous conversation that no one on the bridge knew about. Finally, he turned towards the crew and began to bark out orders.

 

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, the annoyance of the Golan is down. Now the only thing that stands in our way is that damn shield… Let’s bring it down. Move our fleet into position over the Golan.”

 

Beck began to walk back towards the mid point in the walkway of the pit bridge, where officers were working hard to make sure that the Fiat Lux would hold up against any return fire. As he reached midway, he turned around quickly and stared out at the Golan growing within the viewport. It was then he had an idea.

 

“Have all of our ships use our tractorbeams to push that Golan into the planetary shield! All bombers need to begin a sequence to aid in the pressure. That shield must come down!”

 

Beck now walked back towards the front of the bridge to watch to slow movement of the Imperial Remnant forces. This would be the day he gets revenge upon Black Sun for the failure he had here before. Upon that shield going down, the bombardment would commence of that horrid city. But for now, he watched as the tractorbeams began to push the Golan into the shield. Near the edge of all of the ships within the Imperial fleet, the TIE bombers prepared to race in and join the attempt to bring down the shield. This would be a day long remembered by Beck Pilon, Current Admiral of the Imperial Fleet.

 

((Killshot on the Planetary Shield/Golan))