- Joined
- Nov 5, 2012
- Messages
- 2,065
- Reaction score
- 326
Clash on Devaron
Devaron. The politics of Devaron are as convoluted and ambiguous as they have always been. At the fringes of Sith territory within the Core, Devaron is nominally controlled by the Imperium, but in practice this control is limited by rebellion. The Devaronian are split into two groups; those in favor of Imperial rule, and those against it. Regardless of the aims of those against Imperial rule, the motley alliance formed by these groups has fought off-and-on against Imperial rule for nearly a decade. Recent setbacks had been taking their toll, however, and the Rebel Alliance needed to show the Devaronian's that it went beyond mere materiel and moral support.
Together they would strike at the heart of a settlement, pushing beyond the ambushes they laid for patrols and launching a high-profile assault against the Imperium. A plethora of targets were available to them, but of the options available, their command had selected an armory fortified with sandbags and manned at any given time by no more than half a squad.
Strategic victory itself was achieved in the fact that the Imperium had failed to prevent the attacks from occurring to begin with, and that it could not fulfill the mandate it had taken on to provide security and stability to the Devaronians. However, tactical victory was required in order to ensure that the rebels could acquire small arms, medical supplies, rations, and other sorely needed materiel.
Chelm rested his back against the duracrete wall, rubbing his hand over his face to wipe away the sheer boredom that was guard duty. This was hardly the most exciting duty he could be assigned to. "C'mon, Kyne, you wait any longer and I'll fall asleep," he grumbled, leaning forward while holding on to the carbine resting on his lap.
"Yeah, yeah," the other recruit grumbled from inside the latrine. The door opened and out popped Chelm's white-clad squadmate assigned to the same, boring detail he was. Ostensibly, Chelm and Kyne were here to advise the local defenders. In reality, they were simply babysitting people that they couldn't really trust.
The Devaronian security forces, collaborators by any other name, were posted outside. Three horned men, each armed with a decent blaster and a vest that probably wouldn't save them if a bolt hit them directly. Chelm popped on his helmet, stood up, and waved for Kyne to follow him outside. As much as he'd prefer to relax, one never knew when an inspection was due, and he didn't want to be the recruit caught being lazy. "About an hour until the others are done with the patrol detail, two before we're back at the barracks. So don't get lazy, you'll make me look bad." He fiddled with the switches that locked the helmet onto his head, then moved his hands back to his blaster and nodded at the Devaronian guards.
Stupid aliens, he thought to himself.