The Battle of Naboo: The Grassy Plains

[z234]

Teran was getting out of his depth. He could not go on fighting for much longer. He was tired. Almost Exhausted. His lacking force abilites and inexperience were catching up with him, no amount of morale and fury could make up for that. Teran backed up slightly, letting the rest of the squadron he had accumulated move in front of him. He let forth one more battle cry before turning to a nearby sergeant. "Go! Fight for the Imperium my comrades!" Teran approached the sergeant who was directing a few stormtroopers around. "I am afraid I cannot go on much longer. This is a battle for true soldiers, not an Acolyte like me. Sorry I couldn't stay for any longer, good luck." Teran informed the soldier. The man nodded, turning around and joining the rest of his squad in reigning down a hell of blaster rounds onto the rebel forces. Teran turned back his back to the frontline, making his way to the dropships picking up injured soldiers. He trailed behind a retreating squadron of injured Stormtroopers, limping a little on his right leg. He had fought his own battles today and fought them well. That was enough for the young Sith Acolyte.

 

[Andrewza]

The hanvour was never built to dog fight. Sure it was fast but not faster than a fighter and it could never out turn 1. So when a rouge fighter came up behind them it was all ready over. Shots ripped through the hull. The pilots tried to escape but it was pointless in Andrew's eyes. But then the rebel fighter broke off. A swarm of TIE droids on him. It looked like they would make it. But then the port engine exploded sending some of the wing to join the atmosphere.

Plundging through the trees the ship came to a stop. Though it hit swamp it still was violent enough to throw things arround. Several small electrical fires had started. By the time Andrew regained his focus the crew was acting like the well oiled machine the empire had made them. A team was fighting a fire in the aft of the ship well the rest tended to the few wounded. A May day was being sent out. Get up with his head still spinning Andrew made his way to lieutenant Wood. She had broken her leg and Andrews medical droid tended to her well she gave orders. "Some one get the small arms locker open. We need to hold back any rebel attack until rescue arrives!" Look at Andrew she gave a slight twitch in pain as the droid reset the bone with out pain meds. Meds that could effect judgment. "Andrew these men are not true solders. Most get no more than 1 day every 3 months at the range. I need you out side to keep them covered." With a nod Andrew respond "yes mam" before heading for his room and personal locker. The main access was now under swamp water but a access hatch to the upper wing had been opened. Out side the fresh air was mixed with fire and death. Explosions could still be heard not far away.

 

[Cortan]

"Fall back! Fall -ack- back, dammit!" Donkur screamed into his comms, slamming a bony hand on the holographic table. He had tried to tell them, but whether for signal interference - not impossible, with how the battlefield had been plunged into turmoil - or for stubborn pride, the Rebels had not taken the momentary respite offered to them. By no means had Donkur intended surrender, but that just went straight to shooting...
"The Naboo that they are free to surrender themselves! The battle is lost, there's no point in throwing away their lives recklessly. Rebel forces are not, however, to give themselves up." They might have lost much of their fleet, but there was more that even the average member of the Rebellion would be aware of, and any prisoners would be coerced - if not tortured - for that information. The Naboo Security Forces at least had plausible deniability for their role in this fight as well...

Donkur's head sank into his hands, recollecting the last great battle he had commanded against forces of the Imperium. He'd had a small fleet then. A patrol group of some few dozen ships, all varying sizes, but together commanding a similar - if not greater - amount of men to what he had begun this present conflict with. Now he had one ship, bleeding smoke and shrapnel through the clouds, and he did not even wish to think about the body count. A valiant victory would have demanded the most impossible odds. A delaying action held its value in the delay allowing for success elsewhere, and so far he had heard nothing - hopefully, from 'interference' of ships breaking the blockade. The Imperium wouldn't simply 'let' them leave, which meant the possibility of abandoning the remaining ships and arms, and hiding as civilians to flee offworld. That could take them months, when they would need the time to even put on crutches, let alone mend their wounds.

"... Quasar, status?" A weak croak escaped him.
<--Shields are erratic. Notable damage on six decks. The main reactor is... frail. It's possible we'll lose containment of the hypermatter, what little we have left.-->
Donkur was not immediate in his answer. One hand fell from his face, looking upon the base that was building for the Imperials on the plains. No doubt, it would be large, dominating, and once finished with all its defences, would secure the field for the Imperials in its entirety.
He stood alone in Alpha Station, abandoned several minutes ago by his order, as he prepared his next.
"...Quasar, abandon ship. Use whatever escape pods and transport craft are available, aim for the forest and swamp, seek to rendezvous with retreating forces. Set the auto-pilot for the coordinates of-"
<--The auto-pilot is non-responsive, sir. Tell me the target, and I'll be sure the bastards a greeting from you on my way out.-->
Donkur's mouth hung slightly as he paused.

"Their prefabricated base. May the force be with you, Syndulla. May it give you peace for what I ask of you." Donkur said, quivering as the twi'lek nodded in reply, and the line went silent. Donkur's hand went for the switch of the holotable... but stopped. He could at least watch the show.

---

Minutes passed, but one by one, small grey pellets began to pepper the sky, exploding out from the side of the great grey arrow in the sky. The Quasar's belly hung open, as bulk craft attempted to flee through the flurry of fighters that had harassed the larger vessel after she emerged. What remained of their allied squadrons drew up to escort them, tackling any Imp foolish enough to test their bite. The minutes passed, and though it was impossible to discern at a glance, and the lumbering beast of the skies grew lighter.
She turned, almost rolling to face the great building that was being laid down, perhaps of a similar size to Quasar itself. So large. So military. A great big target towards which the arrow flew, no more guns ablaze as no-one sat to man them. Explosions and enemy fire rocked her hull. They were accounted for. On and on, the great grey arrow flew, stirring the winds around, pieces of her hull flying into them as they torn away. Crashing down upon this stronghold of the Imperium, new as it was.

And once she was down, the Imperium would have only so much time to realise the frailties of her core.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Jahairal couldn't help but observe, how it seemed many ships were falling from the sky this day. Deeper and deeper into the woods, the kaleesh fled with the other rebels, the ground becoming wetter and atmosphere denser as they got closer to the edges of the swamplands, a few patches of bog becoming mixed with the dryer patches of forest as they pushed deeper away from the battlefield. The explosions of the last ship crash had been heard even this far deep, yet jahairal dare not turn back to look. They all had to keep moving, to meet up with the rest of the rebel forces and hopefully come up with some plan, either to escape or extend their survival.

He moved through the nature of this place with surprising ease, slipping past vines or branches like nothing as he continued to move ahead, brushing aside with the force what he could not do with his arm, helping the others behind him as well. As he advanced though, Jahairal suddenly came to a stop, throwing up his hand to stop the others as well.

"Wait..." Was all he said as in the distance, one of the trees along their path came down with a crash, as a few seconds later a large Fambaa lumbered towards its fallen meal, munching on the leaves as jahairal watched the sight. He could tell it wasn't threatening, and he looked behind to the others, "Be going around...and do not be shooting it..." he said as he began to lead the way, "She is being peaceful..."

The journey around was taking him and the others around a long way, having to avoid the water as best as possible as jahairal continued to act as an escort for the other rebels. However, as they began to move, the kaleesh heard voices up ahead, freezing as he did so. Though galactic basic was still something he worked hard to grasp, jahairal had learned to pick up on accents during his time with the rebellion. He'd also learned to sense with the force, which usually gave him breif flashes of things from people, animals, and sometimes even objects.

Jahairal sensed a strong sense of fear ahead, and heard the accent he could easily place as imperial, from somewhere up ahead. Slowly, he crept forward, vibrosword powered off to keep from humming, and drawn in case he needed it, as he slowly moved forward through the thick vegetation, cautious of what he might find.

 

[Livgardist]

Jaron looked at those stormtroopers that had volunteered, and nodded his appreciation.
"Get your gear and get ready. We head out in five." He checked his weapons quickly, and made sure to restock on ammunition from a nearby, set up ammo dump. He used a pocket mirror to better up his facial camouflage paint, and spent some time refilling his water packs. The five minutes went quickly by, and soon, he shouldered a backpack with some light equipment, ready to take the lead of the group. He wasn't overly keen on the white armors of the stormtroopers, knowing they provided no tactical advantage whatsoever in a swamp environment, but his own mercs had been out for over 24 hours straight now, and were in no condition to go on a rescue op.

"Let's go." He said.

And so the rescue squad, a squad of ten soldiers, moved out away from the battlefield, and into the forest. Meanwhile behind them the Imperial forces prepared for the attack on Theed. Jaron led the group towards the forests. As they reached the edge, the smell of burnt flesh became more prominent, as burnt down and charred trees began to surround them, in company with blackened, crisped bodies of humans and aliens alike, some melted together from the sheer heat of the bomb carpet. Some bodies were only partially burnt, the faces of some of them still visible, twisted into grimaces of pain. Their eyes seemed to follow Jaron with accusatory glares.

Such a waste..., he thought, as they moved through the killing field.

"Keep your wits about you." He spoke into the IGR, the internal group radio. "There might be survivors."

Even as he said that, his ears were reached by a muffled wailing sound. The source of it drew his eyes. He looked down on a body, the skin of it completely burnt black, melted together with another body nearby, but its eyes still visible, bloodied, in its sockets, without lids to protect them. They looked wide open, staring, like some ghastly monstrosity of the Dark Side of the Force. It sent a shiver up his spine, more so even when the human reached a weak arm out towards him, and with a weak voice, spoke;

"...please...shoot....me..."

Jaron stopped. He hesitated, but then raised his assault rifle, and took aim. His finger bent around the trigger, and slowly, he squeezed it. He could have sworn he saw the mouth of the creature, the flesh of the lips liquified and stuck together by the heat, twist into a pained grin of relief. Then his weapon surprised him by recoiling in his hands to the sound of a gunshot. There was no blood coming out of the body when the bullet slammed into the head - all of it had been vaporized by the heat. The body went still. Jaron lowered his weapon, and made a gesture.

"Let's move out." He said, his voice slightly shaky. "We march for one hour shifts with ten minute breaks."

He began to move again, ignoring the killing field of dead bodies around him, some of which were still moving, crying out for help or death. He set a quick pace, as if to get out of sight of the horrors fast. Within ten minutes, they cleared the last of the rebel bodies, and entered deeper, thicker forest, that soon after, began to become replaced by swampy ground and sickly green trees, as they entered the swamp regions.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Jahairal motioned for the rebels to circle around the overgrowth, as he decided to take an aerial view of the situation. He sheathed his pistol, holstered his sword, and found a suitable tree, climbing slowly and silently. He ascended up the the stump, into the branches, careful not to snag his cloak on any of the leafy twigs as he saw a spot to move over, jumping to the next branch. He kept low and stalked forward, his clawed feet helping him move swiftly as he concentrated on keeping his balance.

Jahairal could see the ship now, appearing to be partially submerged, perhaps halfway, it was difficult to tell with the swampy ground around the area. He spotted the white armored individuals, a few in waist deep water as they trudged towards the shallower or dryer ground. It was dark here, the branches overhead growing thick in the canopy, obscuring most vision. But not his, not a kaleesh, whose thermal pits made darkness a non-issue, as long as there was something warm to see. He slowly drew his lig vibrosword, stalking towards one of the men as they made it towards the shore.

He and another solider had just made it out of the bog, their armor dripping, lower legs coated in muck and mud from the bottom of the swamp. His golden eyes switched from one to the other as he worked out what he was to do. Jahairal closed his eyes, wanting to keep the disorientation of the drop to a minimal, and leaped off the branch he was on, falling swiftly as the solider below him looked up in surprise. Jahairal landed on him feet first, one planted on his face, the other on his shoulder, as gravity shoved him down and plowed his head into the ground below. The other looked towards jahairal in surprise, as the kaleesh rushed forward with a burst of force speed, slamming an elbow into the mans gut before going around him as he caught his breath. One arm wrapped around his neck, the other maneuvered his blade into place, shoving it under his arm, and pressing into the side of his body, the tip starting to penetrate the black body glove. One application of pressure, and the blade would slide between the ribs, through his lungs and heart.

"Make any sound...and you die..." He said as he held the man hostage, noticing that he didn't appear to have any weapons, but instead what looked like a repair kit of some kind. Apparently he'd come to fix dry land to repair something of the ship. "How many of you are being armed? I will know if you are lying..."