Battle for Alsakan [Boarding Action #2]

[Vencu]

Spoiler: Introduction

The Mandalorian armada had swept through the peaceful Alsakan system, one of the most prominent worlds in the long history of the Old Republic and the Galactic Alliance, much like it had at Brentaal and Anaxes—but it had been stopped short at the planet Alsakan itself. The Galactic Alliance had dug in here, knowing that this was the last stand for Coruscant and the entire Core itself.

The Alliance blockade hugged tight to Alsakan, obscuring huge swaths of the planetary surface and blotting out entire continents. A number of defense platforms, bristling with flak and anti-capital weaponary, had been positioned between the orbiting battle groups, complementing their efforts and allowing the Alliance fleet to rearrange and reinforce at will. Beyond the stations and starships, tactical mines were deployed by the hundreds of thousands, making any approach to the planet costly.

Just beyond turbolaser range, the Mandalorian armada had formed their own blockade. The rest of the fleet continued onward, securing the far end of the system to ensure that any reinforcements from Coruscant would not make it to the planet. The Mandalorian armada that had reached the planet’s orbit had made little progress.

The battle was little more than a stalemate, two sides staring each other down as each waited for the other to make the first misstep.

Finally, Mandalore grew impatient. He sent six of his super carriers towards the planet, and each fell behind massive asteroids that were towed into the system. Together, they pushed the giant rocks forward, keeping behind them so the asteroids took the brunt of the damage. They cut through the mines and the asteroids began to chip away at the blockade, finally clearing a path.

With the way through to the surface cleared, the Mandalorians were ready to make their last strike to control the skies of Alsakan. They launched thousands of assault pods and war droids towards the Alliance capital ships that served as the lynchpins of the blockade, as the asteroids themselves continued forward. Forced to concentrate their batteries on the fast approaching asteroids, the Alliance warships relied on their starfighter escorts to repel the assault pod attack—but that was nowhere near enough. The war droids swarmed ahead, overwhelming the Alliance fighters, as the assault pods found their targets and latched onto the capital ships, drilling straight through their hulls.

The battle for superiority had begun. If the Alliance forces repelled the invaders, preventing them from destroying the ships and completely clearing the near-impregnable Alliance blockade, the invasion would be stopped in its tracks. But, if the Mandalorians were successful, and the Alliance could not repel the boarding parties, the blockade would be finished—and Alsakan would fall. All that would remain for the Alliance was glory, the glory to fight to the last man and hold off the Mandalorian forces long enough to let the surface prepare its defenses.

Many would die, but this was the last stand of the Core. No one would forget the men and women of the Alliance who fought and died here.

Spoiler: Objectives

Mandalorians: You and your team of commandos are aboard one such assault pod. You are headed toward the largest of the orbital defense platforms. Coordinate with the other commando teams to overwhelm the crew and take command of the station. If the station can not be commandeered, you are authorized to plant remote charges and destroy it.

Alliance: You and a Marine fireteam under your command have just received word over the station intercom of a hostile boarding action on all levels. You must attempt to repel the assault by any means necessary. If a general retreat is sounded or the station is compromised, secure transport to the surface and rendezvous with the planetary defense forces.

Spoiler: Participants

Defenders

• Saul Perth
• Berric Kelso

Attackers

• Nephill Kilner
• Zara Zhett

Please remember, this isn't a competition. It's collaborative story-telling, so collaborate! Work together to make it an epic tale about how the GA struggled valiantly to defend the station against all odds and held their ground for longer than anyone could have imagined. The outcome may be predetermined, but you can make it a hard won victory for the Mandalorians and a heroic defeat for the GA. It doesn't have to be short. Be detailed, but most importantly, have fun!​

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Once again Nephill Kilner found himself sitting in an assault craft, surrounded by T visors, with the mayhem of combat exploding around them and would inevitably touch him with its cold, merciless fingers.

And it would be far from the last.

War was a big part of the independent gun for hire turned Mandalorian Protector's life. It was the wife and children that he so craved in those late night drinking sessions. And it would be his first love, a bittersweet relationship indeed. Neph was built for war, and thrived in it. He was a man who did not fear death, but welcomed the opportunity to dance with it. The Mandalorian took immense pride in his combat ability and was one hundred percent confident of his skills. Virtually every free moment he had was vested in his craft. His life revolved around it. He had been trained from birth to accept combat as fact.

And he was experienced. Most of his adult life have been consumed by the Second Mandalorian Civil War. In that conflict, he had explored his physical, but primarily emotional and mental limits in a brutal war with fellow Mando'ade. He had taken on some of the Mandalorians' finest, and came out on top. He had wrangled his way out of impossible situations.

Years of war guilt working as a mercenary had increased his repertoire of skills, and honed his abilities. War was less vibrant now, more of a cold reality with hard facts. The glory was dying for him. It would be good to be sitting in a bar in a rotation or two from now, enjoying pints of tihaar and rejoicing in victory while giving the dead the recognition they deserved. But he was not one of the borderline fanatics that he sometimes encountered, preaching about Mandalorian galactic dominance. That sickened him. But all the same, Mand'alor had called him here. And he would do his duty, or his blood would join the crimson rivers of wars past.

The assault pod began rocking as spatial disturbances around them affected it. Explosions. Flak. The intense flashes of light pierced through into the pod's interior. The vode inside were eerily quiet, each man individually preparing himself for impending carnage. Neph stared straight ahead, showing no emotion, keeping his muscles loose and breathing calmly. There would be plenty of time for his muscles to be taut, for his breathing to be rapid and irregular. He would squeeze out every last moment of normalcy to prolong each desperate moment.

Then the Mandalorian looked up, peering across the way. This was strange for him. He made it a habit not to make new acquaintances. He had all the friends he wanted. Mostly friends he had grown up with. It was a fact vode would die today. He would accord them the honor that bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood required, but there was no sense in forming useless emotional attachments. He was a professional. And a hardened veteran. He knew how he could not afford to let deaths bother him.

Most of the vode around him knew the same. In fact, there were very few green men involved in the Mandalorian campaign at this point. Neph was a relative latecomer, and most of the Mandalorians here had been tried and true. But he encountered few who could meet his gaze head on as an equal, as most of the other vode around him accorded him the respect that his jaig, or shriek-hawk eyes, and Mandalorian Protector sigil accorded him.

Fellow protector Zara Zhett sat across from him. He had met her not a few rotations earlier, in an admittedly low point in his recent life. In the form of him drinking himself out of his mind. She had kept his secret, which would have most definitely have altered community perceptions about him. And in exchange, Nephill had made sure that the two were assigned to attack together.

The Mandalorian reached out with an unusual public display of affection, patting her armored thigh gently and warmly, conveying a smile through his T-visor. The other Mandalorians noted this, but scarcely moved their heads in reaction and pretended as though it hadn't happened. Although he had not made this known to her, and doubted he ever would, he wanted to look out for her. She would most definitely and adamantly deny any need for this, and Nephill had no idea whether this was valid or not, but took the facts as they were: she was young and untested. Therefore, Neph could offer her a few things. And make sure the girl did this job right. He couldn't explain it at all, but he...cared about her. He hated to use that word. He didn't care about anyone...

The assault pod rocked violently, and Nephill cleared his head and clutched his trusty repeating carbine closer to his chest. This was it. Alliance starfighters would not be the cause for their demise today. But there were millions of ways to die in this galaxy...

A final, violent lurch as the assault pod embedded itself into capital ship hull. Metal whining and moaning as vibrations throughout the assault pod's fuselage as its drill burst through hull.

Light. Neph had already turned his helmet's light filters on in preparation for the sudden bursts of light, and had it automatically set to phase up in a way that minimized any detrimental effect on his vision.

The Mandalorians around him let out their war cries, Neph being no exception. "OYAA!" he bellowed, and charged through the assault pod into hallway, carbine held across his chest and then raised to shoulder in one smooth movement as he took aim, sighting in his first targets as he leaped into light...

And so it begins.

 

[Saul Perth]

An uneasy silence had fallen over the cargo bay of the landing craft. Over fifty soldiers stood in silence, each as nervous as the person next to them, although few would like to admit it. Jedi Padawan Saul Perth was no different, standing in complete silence near the front of the craft. He was dressed in a full suit of GAMCA Special Forces armor, more suited to Jedi due to it's lighter weight than standard battle armor. His belt held two thermal detonators on his left side, a det pack and spare air tank on the right, with the primary air tank hooked onto the armor from the rear of the belt. A K8 heavy blaster pistol was holstered on his left hip, while his lightsaber rested on his right, the only outward evidence he was a Jedi at all.

Tactical command of the unit contained within the shuttle belonged to Jedi Knight Markus Garuke, an experienced Jedi warrior that had served on numerous battlefronts across the galaxy. He too was armored, however he opted to remove his helmet and wear his robes over his suit, twin lightsabers resting on his hips. His face was of solid stone, giving off an aura of confidence. He was a natural leader, and his presence alone served to ease some of the tension among the troops. The silence of decent was broken however by a panic filled voice over the loudspeakers.

"Attention all nearby Alliance ships, this is the orbital defense platform Shield of Xenvaer. We have been breached by Mandalorian strike teams, situation critical. I repeat, we have been breached, situation critical. Please assist."

Without hesitation, Garuke contacted the pilot and the shuttle began to change course, now on an intercept course with the defense platform. The Knight then turned and addressed the assembled group, his voice being broadcast to the com unit within each soldier's helmet.

"We're the closest ship, so listen up. Fire teams Alpha and Beta, you're with me. Priority one is keeping the Mando's away from the main generator, if they place charges there, the whole station will blow. Fire teams Gamma and Delta, you're with Saul, get to the command deck as fast as possible and keep it secure. Fire team Epsilon, you're on clean up. Get any remaining non-combat personnel into an escape pod, then move to reinforce. Any questions? Good, may the Force be with us."

A map of the station appeared on Saul's HuD, updated in real time with the positions of friendly forces and suspected positions of enemies. A few seconds later a path was highlighted in blue, leading from the hangar bay to the command deck, a secondary path was also highlighted in red although it was slightly longer. He opened a private com with the Sergeant in command of fire team Gamma.

"Sergeant, I need you and Gamma to take the secondary route, Delta and I will take the direct approach, copy?"

"Rodger, we'll get it done."

Switching over to the entirety of fire time Delta, he opened a new com line.

"Alright Delta, you're with me. We're taking the most direct route to the command deck, expect medium to heavy resistance."

He was met with ten simultaneous acknowledgements, good. It wasn't long before Garuke spoke up again.

"LZ is hot and touchdown in thirty seconds, get ready. Friendlies on the right, hostiles on the left, watch your fire."

The time flew by without a word, everyone knew their task, they simply waited for the door to open. After a burst of cover fire from the ship's repeating blaster, the bay door was opened. With his lightsaber in his right hand and pistol in his left, Saul stepped out of the shuttle, into the raging firefight before him.

 

[SwineOfTheSkies]

The glaring red light sneered past Berric's cockpit as he attempted to shake two Mandalorian starfighters off the tail of his R-25. Berric looked at the ship's control stick in the grip of his glove and lingered his finger over the button which initiated the launch of the proton torpedo launcher. Berric swung his ship up above the two Mandalorian starfighters. Berric tilted his head to the top of the cockpit following the two starfighters with his eyes as they continued to chase the original placement of the R-25. The transparent orange screen in front of Berric's final revealed a lock on the both the starfighters and Berric pressed his finger on to the button releasing two bright blue torpedoes that screeched across the nose of the R-25 and impacted the back of the two starfighters. The two starfighters turned into nothing but two glaring lights launching parts of the ships in all directions.

Berric's ship was left in critical condition as it accumulated damage throughout the battle and he wouldn't be able to survive a major encounter with another enemy starfighter without getting repairs and this was brought to Berric's attention by a loud screech from his very trusted astromech droid,Clackers. Berric had owned Clackers since he was a teenager and even kept him after the R9 series was outdated and the Galactic Alliance offered him a new astromech after his recruitment into Rogue Wing but of course, Berric declined. " I know Clackers, we need someplace to dock.....got any ideas?" Clackers made a few squeaks as pulled up a set of coordinates on the cockpit's dashboard. Berric nodded and thanked Clackers as he flew to the location of the coordinates before getting the distress call from the Shield of Xenvaer. Berric had only one choice and with the agreement of his astromech he flew to the station to answer the distress call. It wouldn't be a chance to get repairs but it would be an opportunity to continue to help out the Alliance. Berric carefully docked his ship with the platform and went aboard with his astromech . Berric wasn't sure what to expect but he was scared. Sure he had combat training and experience in CorSec but he was aware of the reputation of the Mandalorian's reputation as warriors. The hangar bay was swarming with activity but Berric was able to find a plac in the front of the hangar with enough distancinform the enemy to give him to get ready to fight.Berric popped open the canopy and reached his right arm to his left to grab a blaster rifle locked down next to the seat along with a utility belt whic had a vibriosword and blaster pistol holstered to it. After grabbing the two items he pressed a button releasing Clackers from his socket launching into a space next to the battered R-25 . Berric finally climbed out of the cockpit and slinged the blaster rifle around his left shoulder and pressed a button on the side of his helmet which compacted the orange visor into the helmet while revealing the amount of ash that accumulated on Berric's face in the space battle. He then walked over to the shivering astromech to tell him what to do.
"Alright Clackers I need you to stay here in the hangar,I know it's scary but I need you here to get a ship ready in case things get hairy and us and the other survivors need to get out of here, ok?...just wait fr me to tell over the comms but until then just hide somewhere where any Mandalorians can't find you." Clackers gave an acknowledging squeak and went to hde by some supplies. Berric then poked out from the side of his R-25 and used it as a temporary place for cover.

 

[Nike]

Breathe in. Breathe out. Think about all the reasons you hate the Alliance. Think about mom, and Leo. Remember why they’re dead. Breathe in. Breathe out. Think about home, about gar’buire. Think about what you have to protect.

It was no use. Zara sat with her hands clasped and shoved between her knees to keep them from shaking, completely oblivious to what went on around her. Behind her visor, her eyes were twisted shut and her jaw clenched tight. Her mind, usually so focused, was muddled, her thoughts seemed to bump into each other, moving too fast for her to make sense of them. Occasionally, she had to remind herself to breathe.

Breathe in.

Was this how Leo felt before his first battle? Did he have sweaty hands and a dry mouth? Did he forget to breathe? She tried to imagine him sitting beside her, just the two of them ready to take on the galaxy, but she couldn’t picture his face anymore. So she imagined him in a buy’ce, but then he stopped being Leo.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Zara squeezed her eyes a little tighter. People were going to die that day, some of them would be her vode. One of them could be her. Why was she so nervous? She'd never been afraid to die before. Was Leo afraid to die? No. Nothing ever scared Leo. Besides, they told her he died immediately after the missile shot down his drop ship. No fear. No pain. But what if they lied? What if he felt every flame against his skin and the force of the ship slamming to the ground on impact? What if the same happened to her? What if she got shot but didn’t die and she had to lie on the ground alone and in pain not quite alive but aware of the people stepping over her body leaving her for dead. How long would it take her to die? What if—

Suddenly, a touch on her thigh yanked her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes to see Nephill sitting across from her, and instantly exhaled the ragged breath she didn’t know she was holding. She smiled thinly, even though he couldn’t see it, and gave him small nod. Never, ever would she say it, but she was glad he was there. His presence grounded her, reminded her why she was there and what she was fighting for. She glanced around the assault pod at the others. They were the reason she was fighting. Her people, her vode.

The pod attached itself to the Alliance ship with a clamor. This was it. She took her Deece from off her back and held it tightly in across her chest. Her thoughts emptied for a moment, then became completely focused and she saw clearly, what today was. Her chance to give it all for her people, her chance to be a real hero. Any final doubts she had melted away in the light as the assault pod drilled their way onto the platform. “Par Aliit, Manda’yaim, Mando’ade, Mand’alor,” she shouted as she ran into the firefight.

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Time seemed to slow, and all that the Mandalorian could hear was his own heartbeat and steady breathing. His sights settled on a uniformed chest. A gentle tap on the trigger, a bolt of energy that scorched through the target's chest.

Neph didn't wait for the target to fall. Realign right, a small adjustment. Settled for neck rather than central body mass, as this target wasn't moving - trying to aim his own weapon. Another squeeze. Energy shattered through the target's neck.

Time returned to chaotic rapidness. Blaster fire filled the hallway, bolts whizzing and whirring along as most of the Mandalorians exited the assault pod and more GA defenders turned to engage the threat.

Neph pushed forward, tucking his head into his neck as he sprinted forward without looking to see what his comrades were doing. In his experience, it was push forward or die. Especially in situations like these. They had the advantage because of surprise and shock; that would wear off quickly. Especially if they didn't link up with the other assault teams - there were simply more GA defenders.

The Mandalorian swore as a blaster bolt skimmed his lower leg, searing the flesh several millimeters deep. Although his beskar alloy armor had absorbed the brunt of the blow, he still had a noticeable limp as he dove behind several corpses for cover.

Peering over one of the corpse's legs, he switched his blaster to automatic and emptied his power pack into the target rich corridor.

GA soldiers received several years of training and standardized equipment. Motivation varied - and thus courage was, as well. Every Mandalorian had been trained since childhood to fight. And if they had not been born Mandalorians, they were still experienced warriors. Most of them had seen multiple battles, and came out alive, with the weak culled. Each used custom equipment - and wore armor.

Coupled with the surprise of the attack, the defenders in this particular area were being routed, falling to Mandalorian blaster bolts as they struggled to maintain a fighting withdrawal.

With most of the defenders dead or retreating, Neph reloaded and then leaped up and sprinted alongside several other vode towards the GA fallback position for this particular engagement: the hangar. What he saw stopped him dead his tracks. A reinforcement shuttle. And the flash of a lightsaber. The Jedi had arrived.

Ducking as streams of blaster bolts began firing up at the walkway exiting the corridor, the Mandalorians began dashing down the stairways towards the hangar floor to engage the GA troops there - the other GA troops on the walkway were in poor position to defend themselves and were being pushed back.

Quickly assessing the situation, Neph decided to say something. "Vode! The station will not be ours if we do not crush the aruetiise resistance! Slot them where they stand!" he yelled, taking the initiative as it didn't seem like there were any senior vode around him. He did think he had some authority. Besides, the skilled leaders always were the ones who took the lead in battle, as was the Law of the Jungle...

Neph leaped from the elevated walkway down onto the hangar flow, activating his jetpack to soften his landing - the stairways were exposed and a proper death trap. His mercenary background made him the type of soldier to do use unorthodox tactics, and excel at operating independently.

Raising his carbine, he let out bursts of bolts at knots of GA soldiers, ducking down behind several large crates when bolts strayed too close.

But he wasn't on a merc mission today, and wouldn't for possibly the rest of his life. Although he had full confidence in the Mandalorians around him, he still had one responsibility....Neph opened up a comm line to Zara's buy'ce by blinking the proper commands.

"Zar'ika. Sitrep," he said calmly, reloading his carbine again and loading in a grenade round into his carbine's underslung launcher. He knew what the penultimate target in this hangar bay was...and perhaps Zara could help him. He didn't know anyone else in the team regardless.

Spoiler: OOC

Check OOC: http://www.thestarwarsrp.com/forum/showthread.php?46508-Battle-for-Alsakan-Boarding-Action-2-OOC

 

[Saul Perth]

Markus and his fire teams had managed to fight their way out of the hangar, but a fresh wave a Mandalorians from the upper levels had Saul and his teams pinned behind some of the large crates that littered the hangar floor. The updated information he was receiving from the command and control unit on board the station was far from good, more boarding pods had connected, and the Mandalorians they contained were overrunning the station's defensive personnel. Time was not on their side, he had to get Gamma on their way to the command deck before the Mandos broke through. Stuck behind cover, he developed a plan to get Gamma out of the hangar.

Satisfied, Saul opened a com-line to his fire teams and the drop ship pilot. Shortly after, the shuttle rose vertically into the air. The heavy repeater mounted under the nose was linked directly to the pilot's helmet, it's deadly stream of fire following the pilot's eyes as he fired upon groups of Mandos. Fire team Delta added additional suppressing fire while Gamma used the opening to escape the hangar and proceed toward the control room. As the repeater swept over the exposed upper walkway, the exposed GA defenders were able to flee the hangar and proceed to a more vital position.

That was one thing of Saul's mind, the next was slowing the Mandalorian advance. Considering that his team was equipped for fighting on the planet's surface, rather than indoors, the hangar was as good of a place as he could ask for. The open space made it easier for the soldiers to handle their rifles, as opposed to compact carbines. The additional benefit was made apparent as a bolt from the soldier to his right pierced through the chest armor of a Mandalorian, striking several inches from a smaller blast mark, left by one of the carbines of the defense crew that had apparently not been quite powerful enough. Add in the rain of death from the drop ship, and he was in as good a position as any to make a stand, his ranks had even been bolstered by one. A man in a pilot's jumpsuit had joined the fray and was fighting alongside fire team Delta.

Leveling his left arm over the top of the crate he was behind, he added his own shots into the battle unfolding before him. Saul was a skilled shot, and nearly every shot fired connected. However, aside from piercing the visor of one unlucky Mando, it simply wasn't powerful enough to defeat assault armor, and he ended up holstering it. Still in cover, Saul brought his lightsaber to bare. With the crate minimizing his body profile, he had less area to protect and thus had an easier time deflecting and reflecting the blaster bolts that came his way. He managed to fell two Mandalorians before his com-piece blared a voice.

"Fire team Gamma has reached the command deck. We're holding for now, but they just keep coming."

"Rodger that Sergeant, hold your ground, we'll be there shortly."

 

[SwineOfTheSkies]

Berric mounted his carbine on the nose of the R-25 and took aim at a few of the Mandalorians farther back in the hanger firing eight blaster bolts. Berric then went around the battered nose of the R-25 firing a few bolts to put some of the Mandalorians back in cover or to move away. Berric then moved below the incoming Mandalorian blaster bolts and hiding behind the many crates that were scattered around the hanger. It didn't take too long for Berric to notice the organized strike tams and figured it would be best to fall in formation with one as being alone without a squad against who knows how many Mandalorian warriors that wouldn't need too much to turn him into a burnt corpse but Berric's experience spending nine years in the CorSec Tactical Response Team whether it was taking down criminals on the streets of Coronet or shooting down pirates and smugglers around the Corellian sector with Horn Squadron. Soon enough he joined up with Delta and assisted them by taking down a few Mandalorians while hiding most of his body behind a supply crate and using it to catch most of the blaster bolts that flew his way. During the fight he eventually ducked up from the crate and released some momentary suppressing fire as he switched cover to talk to the squad leader,which he assumed Saul was the squad leaderbeing that most Jedi don't usually tend to be grunts so Berric decided it would be best to notify his presence to the squad leader as an ash covered pilot in an orange flight suit running around firing a blaster might be a slightly unusual sight and could probably use justification.

"Sergeant Berric Kelso, Rogue Wing, I nearly got shot down before I heard the distress signal so I'm here to help in anyway I can. "

 

[Nike]

Stepping into the fray seemed to push her soul from her body. She wasn’t Zara Zhett anymore, but a verd, ready to fight, kill, and die for her cause. Aware of, but detached from the mess around her, she could think critically without all but the slightest bit of fear. The faces around her didn’t matter. If they weren’t wearing a buy’ce, they were enemies.

Out of the mess, she saw the muzzle of a blaster aimed at her visor. She hardly felt the small jolt of pain as she instinctively fell to her knees, narrowly missing the bolt. Looking around, she caught sight of the soldier a meter away with his weapon still pointed at her. Before the soldier could blink twice, Zara had her rifle on her shoulder and fired several shots into his chest. She didn’t wait to watch him fall before jumping to her feet. Later, she would add a short blue tally mark to the white ones already on her forearms. The first Alliance soldier she killed. She wanted to remember him.

Alongside her vode, she helped bash the way through the defenders. As they burst from the hallway into the hanger, she tripped over a body at her feet. She didn’t look at it, even to tell which side they were on. She didn’t have time.

With the same emotionless clarity, she took stock of the situation. Both the walkway and corridor were all but cleared, the battle now raging on the hanger floor. So that’s where she would head. The stairs too congested, she held her rifle tight against her chest, ready to jump from the walkway into the thick of it without hesitation, but the ping of her comlink stopped her short. “Zar’ika. Sitrep.”

For a moment, it felt like waking from a dream. “Nephill,” she answered uncertainly, her previous ramikadyc attitude gone. From below, a few shots connected with her shoulder, just powerful enough to scorch her armor. She dropped to her stomach, making as small a target as possible, and fumbled slightly with getting her rifle aimed and started firing. She wasn’t close enough to do much damage, and she knew it.

Frustrated by the interruption, she prepared a long list of swears to unleash through the comlink, but none of them left her head. Not the time, she told herself. She swallowed hard and tried to speak in the same calm voice as Neph had. “Hall and walkway, clear, alor. I’m on the walkway--…Osi’kyr.”

Her face paled at the sound of the ship’s engines and her eyes widened as it rose in the air. “That…I…’Leck. I’m coming down,” she said, the link still on but talking to herself. At least there was cover below. With a ragged breath, she got back to her feet just as the ship’s weapons were warming up. No time to think, she jumped, rolling as she hit the ground. It hurt more than expected, but she ignored the pain and dived behind a crate shared by another verd. “Alright. Where are—Oh.” She looked at the man beside her, recognizing the black armor and jaig eyes on his helmet. “Su’cuy.”

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Nephill began ringing out a stream of curses in his head as soon as he saw the shuttle lift off the ground, and tuned out most of Zara's gibberish as he formulated a plan to take it down.

Heavy fire began raining down from the shuttle, taking out a series of vode on the exposed walkway who were unprepared. Neph ducked below to avoid a volley of fire directed at him before popping back up and launching his grenade armed in the underside of his carbine. The high explosive round, complete with armor penetration capability, did more damage then one would assume by just size. The explosion was dissipated by the shuttle's deflector shields, but Neph was far from done.

Loading in an ion round, he popped up again, taking a few precious seconds to carefully launch the round before popping back behind cover, constantly readjusting his position against the row of crates. The ion grenade exploded against the shuttle's shields, volts of ion energy traveling along the field, electrically carried to the shield's generators and shorting them out.

Neph knew he only had three more grenade rounds in his bandoleer. Although one in combat did not plan for the future, he was willing to bank he would survive this next maneuver - and thus he needed to save as many rounds as possible. Loading one of the three into his carbine's launcher, he remained crouch and carefully calculated his next move.

The shuttle had driven most of the Mandos off of the walkway and into heavy cover, and was now focusing on blasting away at this cover. Neph took the next few seconds to program in his target from previously recorded footage from his last view popping up. Neph let the pilot focus on a pocket of vode several meters away before igniting his jetpack and ascending three meters straight up in just moments. The shuttle's pilot was good - he noticed the threat and began to swing the repeating cannon around to target this new threat....but this would take precious seconds.

Neph didn't let him have the luxury of time. He mechanically sighted in the target, his hand steady through sheer mental will, using both his buy'ce's targeting system, which had pre-selected the silhouette of the pilot within his hardened transparisteel cockpit for identification, and his carbine's scope. As soon as the combination of crosshairs and distance markers lined up, he pulled the trigger.

As soon as he felt the kick of the grenade leaving his carbine, he maneuvered violently right and downward. The blaster cannon began loosing energy at the spot the Mando had just been - and the pilot would never get the chance to recalculate for a killing volley.

The round pierced through several centimeters of even the hardened transparisteel before detonating. The explosive blast pushed in with pure ferocity, engulfing the cockpit and shattering the transparisteel into shards.

The explosion tore apart the cockpit, and the pilot was annihilated to atoms with the blink of an eye. Without any type of control, the shuttle nosedived the short distance to connect to the hangar floor with a tumultuous crash, the cockpit still flaming.

Once the shuttle had climatically met durasteel in a cascade of shrieks and sparks, Neph landed next to Zara, weaving and dodging the small-arms fire from the remaining GA troops as he landed next to his charge.

It was then that Neph tuned into the chatter of the Mando comms net. The phrase "....aruetiise moving to the control room!..." registered and stuck, and Neph tuned out the comms chatter almost as fast as he had tuned in.

Without a second thought, without even reflecting upon his battlefield achievement, or the lives he had saved, Neph tersely grabbed Zara by the backplate and moved to haul her up - not too gently either. "Zar'ika on your feet!"

Making sure he had a solid grip on Zara's backplate, and trusting Mandalorian smithing to hold, he again ignited his jetpack for the short ascension to the walkway. Mandalorians were already pouring back onto the catwalk, exchanging fire with GA troops who were making a fighting withdrawal at the opposite site of the room into a central hallway - one that would lead to the command room.

Settling Zara down on the walkway after the short ride, he scoped in targets at the opposite doorway and began letting shots fly, popping up and down and weaving to make himself an unpredictable target, taking his shots in the short times he was stationary in his maneuvering.

The blasterfire was fierce, as both sides focused fire on each other in a remarkably stark stand-off - with no clear winner, at least in these few seconds. The adrenaline was pumping on strong and on full, and Neph was in a mechanical and completely unemotional state, fighting like a finely honed killing robot. Every second of training, he utilized. His hand was steady, and his aim true. He accepted that he could die today, and crushed down the fear of death to a tiny, tiny inconsequential bubble deep in his core. This enabled him to keep moving even amidst this heavy blasterfire unfazed.

The fight continued, with no clear victor save for death himself and Kad Ha'rangir, the destroyer god of Mandalorian mythology of old...

 

[Saul Perth]

((Sorry it took so long.))

Saul watched helplessly as his advantage was destroyed. Time seemed to slow down as a Mandalorian, a high ranking one at that judging by his equipment, launched a grenade straight through the cockpit of his drop ship. The ship spun through the air, finally crashing to the ground in a heap of metal. Saul was brought back to his senses as a victory cheer erupted from the Mandalorian survivors. He had to get his team out of there now, before they were forced back into cover.

"To the control room, move!", he shouted over his comm. He knew he was too slow, the Mandos had started firing again. A bolt struck one of his team in the back as he turned to run, and only a quick intervention from Saul's lightsaber saved another. With the rate of incoming fire increasing, Saul turned and bolted to the open door with the rest of his team. Only three others had made it, the pilot that had joined them and two members of fire team Delta. He let eight of his men die today in that hangar, more once you considered Gamma, and one more on top of that for the pilot. That was enough, no more good men needed to die today. The station was overrun, that was plain to see. He would save as many as he can, and then he would make the Mandalorians pay for the blood they spilled.

"Saul Perth to Markus Garuke, we've been overrun at the hangar, they're going to breach the control room, what do we do?"

"Get everyone you can to the escape pods, then get off this station. I'll hold them off, buy you some time, then I'll catch a pod."

Saul knew he was lying, but he would make use of the time Markus offered him to save as many as he could.

"Give them hell."

His determination bolstered, Saul opened a new comm channel.

"Gamma, how are you holding?"

He could hear blasterfire in the background as a soldier replied.

"Bad, we're down to 40% strength, we're being ove-God dammit get do-", static buzzed over the speakers as Saul terminated the communication.

Saul sprinted to the control room, the remainder of his unit following suit. A grim sight awaited him, bodies littered the floor, the smell of charred flesh even penetrated his air scrubbers. Three station personnel hid behind cover as the last two members of fire team Gamma attempted to hold off a new wave of Mandalorians. In a fury, Saul rapidly fell upon them, showing no mercy as he cut them down. Moving from target to target in the cramped space with deadly efficiency, stopping only as the last of the squad fell dead to the ground, first the body, then the head.

Not giving a moment of respite, a new squad of Mandalorians rounded the corner and opened fire. As he shielded himself with his lightsaber, he unclipped one of the two thermal detonators on his belt and hurled it at the new threat with his left hand. Guided by the Force, the explosive was positioned perfectly, catching three in the blast and forcing the survivors into cover behind their fallen brethren. Satisfied for the moment he turned and grabbed one of the surviving crew members by the shoulder.

"Start the self destruct sequence, now!"

"But-", Saul cut him off immediately.

"No buts Goddammit just do it, we're leaving."

The crewman motioned to another and they both set to work upon a console in the center of the room, Saul didn't have to ask about the results as red sirens began to blare throughout the station. Coolly, an automated voice rang out over the loudspeakers.

"Warning, self destruct sequence initiated. This is not a drill. Detonation in ten minutes. Evacuate the facility immediately. Ten minutes remaining."

"Can the process be reversed?", he asked the crewman.

"Only from here, and it'd take a bit of computer work."

"Good, stand back."

Hidden beneath his helmet, a grin crossed Saul's face. The detonation would prevent any use of the station by enemy forces, but that was only secondary. In truth, he wanted the Mandos to die, every single one of them. The words of the Masters flooded through his mind, warning of a dark path, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore, he had failed, and now he would have revenge. His grin widened into a full fledged smile as he drew his final thermal detonator. With a slight huff he tossed it under the console, sealing the fate of the station with a simple flick of his wrist.

 

[SwineOfTheSkies]

Berric turned from the carnage for a moment only to see a Mandalorian in black in red armor about to launch a grenade from his carbine into the shuttle. After the thump of the grenade being launched echoed throughout the hangar. It didn't take much time before Berric forced the sights of his carbine to his eyes and opened fire. Though his effort failed as the Mandalorian simply drifted off and landed into another part of the hangar. The alliance may had lost one of the more viable assets during the battle there was still a glimmer of hope that the strike team might at least cripple their Mandalorian counterpart. By this point the battle in the hangar was over, we had to move on. The Mandalorians had moved up and soon enough dropped one of the Alliance forces but this
was soon followed by Berric's intervention. He fired two glaring red blaster bolts from his carbine as he held it from his hip but soon enough the Jedi gave an order and though Berric was unsure of his rank Berric's immediate instinct would be to obey. The hangar was lost and it wasn't going to be long before the station was completely overrun by Mandalorians. They all rushed to the control room just in time to witness the arrival of another squad of Mandalorions. Berric did would anyone else would of done, brought his carbine to his shoulder and pressed the trigger as fast as he could to take out the Mandalorians, he dropped one of them before Saul threw two detonators into the group, finishing them off. Soon enough the self destruct sequence was activated of course this already would induce fear into any average soldier but Berric too ka few moments to consider things, Berric thought Sure maybe we couldn't win, but we could kill all of the Mandalorians with this and disable their ability to use the station for themselves while we make way to the escape pods. Of course this possibility was only uplifted by Saul. Berric wasn't sure if he had the same intentions but he was certainly happy with the decision.

"Good job jedi, now the Mandos can't use this station for themselves now let's get off this blasted station."'

 

[Nike]

It only took Zara seconds to get into a more or less comfortable position behind the crate. She rested on one knee, leaning down until she was ready to look over the crate and fire off several rounds. The Deece bucked in her hands like a living thing trying to break free. It wasn’t like the range, she didn’t have time to be selective with her shots. One grazed the top of a soldier’s helmet as he ducked behind his own cover, another made contact with a woman’s shoulder. The moment she took to acknowledge her wound was all Zara need to empty her clip into the soldier’s stomach.

Zara hunched down over her knee as she fussed with reloading the clip. She cast a cautious glance up. The ship had taken its focus off the catwalk and was firing directly at those in cover. Just its existence made her sick, as did the flash of blue light she’d seen. Jedi. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but a part of her hoped for the chance to take down a Jedi, but first the ship. Just as she had the thought, she became aware of Neph beside her, or rather the lack of him. He had shot himself up and it didn’t take long for Zara to realize what he was doing. A violent cheer erupted from her before the grenade even touched the ship and grew louder as she watched it plunge from the sky. Embolden by the small victory, she began to get to her feet, a grin pulling at her cheeks. They were winning, she could feel it. The Alliance forces couldn’t stand much longer against them.

Before she could react to his presence or even stand, Neph had a grip on her armor and hauled her with him onto the walkway. Though startled, Zara still landed with some grace. She gave Neph a small nod and joined the Mandos pushing their way to the control room. Bodies that could have easily been her littered the path. She ignored them. Later, she would remember the dead with reverence, toasting their memory. She was still alive, and while there was breath in her lungs and strength in her arm she would fight. The fear was still there, like a bad taste in the back of her mouth, but as more defenders fell to the wave of warriors the braver she became. Then the alarm sounded.

Self destruction in ten minutes. Her first reaction was to groan and then swear. “Hut’uune,” she growled. Cowards. With new vigor and a little panic, she fired at whatever stood between her and the control room. As she fought, she patched herself into the Mando com. "Who can turn the damn thing off?" she asked, looking around her. There wasn’t anything she could do but get the right vod to the control room. Hopefully that would be enough.

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Nephill's heart sank as automated message rang out throughout the station's iron corridors. His trigger finger halted as his head cocked back, mind thinking at a thousand kilometers a second, calculating a plan of action, completely oblivious to the hailstorm of blaster bolts flying around them. It became crystal clear to the Mandalorian that they really had only choice. He quickly set an automatic counter from 10:00 as soon as he heard the message.

"If it can be turned off. We can't assume there's any way to disable it. But we can't not try. As it is, not every vod can make his way to safety, and this station is too valuable an asset. We have no choice. Zara, I leave this up to you. I will lead a band of volunteers to fight our way to the control room," Nephill said calmly and matter-of-factly, despite the fact that his heart was pounding in a way it hadn't before, even in the line of fire, and the very surface of his skin seemed to be aflame with feeling as adrenaline flowed copiously through his veins. This was the worst situation he had ever been in his entire career.

"The rest of you!' Neph said, yelling into the general comms network. "Make your way to the escape pods! Deny the aruetiise ability to leave the station! Preserve your own lives, to die another day for Mand'alor! This is not dishonorable; it is prudent! Go vode! Those jaro'ade who wish to dance with Kyr'am some more today, stay on my six - and keep up!"

He then switched to a single channel. "Zar'ika, go with them. Lead the forces to the escape pod. I am trusting you vod," he said in a gentle, but firm voice, putting emphasis into this statement to impart its importance.

With that, Neph emptied his clip at the retreating GA troops, who themselves were no doubtedly running for escape. Inside, Nephill knew this was a strange move for a Jedi. It seemed too...vicious. Too cold. Jedi always meant to preserve life. He didn't see how this move did. But he did not claim to be privy to the thoughts of a Jetii, the historical archnemesis of the Mando'ade. Perhaps it made sense to them; a member of their arrogant and self-deifying order.

And he would kill one today, or move on to the fabled afterlife. Right now, at this point, he couldn't care either way. His head was buzzing with a hormonal high, with every muscle group twitching eagerly as a thousand strategies to kill ran through his mind at lightspeed. He felt alive, in the way one only could when close to death.

He had been keeping one eye focused on the long-haired man with the green jetii'kad. He could see it in the man's eyes - the pride, the arrogance, alongside the inherent belief that each Jedi had that they were better then everyone else. He was going to watch that insulting fire fade from the Jedi's eyes as he throttled the life force out of him. It wouldn't be the first Jedi, after all....

Now freed of worry about Zara, at least for the moment, Nephill Kilner slung his carbine across his back, leaped, and ignited his jetpack to propel himself forward across the walkway towards the Jedi. About midway cross the walkway, he leveled his wrist, aligning it with his intended target using his buy'ce's advanced targeting system. Taking about a second to line up the crosshairs, he fired his single-shot wrist rocket at the remaining pocket of dogged GA defenders standing alongside the Jedi in the hallway.

Jedi Knight Markus Garuke sensed the impending rocket attack too late, and his scattered thoughts could not be centralized fast enough to telekinetically deflect the incoming explosive or push back the brave GA men and women around him.

Left with no choice, he made the heartwrenching choice to push himself off with the force and execute a smooth somersault, landing about five meters away from the rocket's explosion. The detonation tore apart the walkway, making that section of the metal catwalk to collapse. Body parts from the GA defenders went flying, with the ones left standing shocked and making easy targets for the Mandalorians standing behind Nephill at their end of the walkway.

But Garuke would turn those GA defenders' sacrifice to opportunity. Even as his precognition skills screamed at him, he seflessly plunged his lightsaber up, aiming to catch Nephill in his aerial path towards the Jedi.

Nephill had smoothly drawn his prized Verpine shatter pistol almost immediately after firing the rocket, and took aim at the Jedi in pre-coordinated movements. But this planned battle choreography had not accounted for the Jedi's survival, or reposition. Nephill was moving too fast to change course, and was struck with indecisive panic, losing an opportunity to fire his weapon as he lifted up on his jetpacks controls in his buy'ce.

The divergence in course saved the Mandalorian from being gutted like a bantha for a Tatooine festival, but the Jedi's blade met flesh. As Nephill's last change in vector moved him up and to the right, the Jedi's blade stabbed deep into his chest right above the hip and dragged for several inches before Nephill's aerial path moved him up and away from the Jedi's blade.

The searing agony of the pure plasma, too close to vital organs and joints for his body's comfort, the Mandalorian let out a yelp and pushed hard downward unintentionally on his jetpack controls.

Passing through the hallway corridor, the Mandalorian Protector collided into the durasteel through his chest and rolled several times before stopping in a crumpled heap. Intense pain now wracked his chest, and as the Mandalorian struggled to sit up with a pounding head, he could discern that he at least had one rib broken. At least his shoulder was fine. He hated having to pop that particular bone back in its socket.

The pain in his lower chest was excruciating, but the cauterizing nature of the lightsaber did prevent blood loss and kill some of the area's most vocal nerves. A shot of painkiller from his beskar'gam's internal system relegated the rest to dullness.

The corridor's height prevented use of his jetpack, and as the Jedi Knight treaded into the hallway, deflecting blaster fire behind himself calmly, Nephill staggered to his feet and prepared to standoff with the Jedi.

The Knight reached out a hand, and a button on the side of the wall compressed in magically. The hallway's blast doors slammed shut moments later, leaving just the Mandalorian and the Jedi to each other.

Nephill met the Knight's cool gaze, looking into those brown eyes, and seeing...pity. That drove him into a rage.

Firing the Verpine Pistol that had remained clutched in his hand in a death grip, he launched a series of high velocity rounds that zipped through the air, small and quick. The Jedi was startled by the unfamiliar weapon, having gauged it to be a simple slugthrower - he wouldn't be the last Jedi to make that mistake. His blade wove into a defensive pattern, and Nephill credited the man's training as he was able to deflect a good deal of the rounds, which made noisy cracks as they were disintegrated after coming into contact with the plasma blade. But Verpine technology served him well. The projectiles were simply too small and quick for him to meet with his blade, and two made contact. One blew out most of his right thigh, and the second pierced through his lower gut, tearing through the man's large intestine and stomach, just narrowly missing the spinal column.

Blood and gore painted the floor behind the man from the exit wounds. Verpine shatter rounds were renowned in the mercenary world for their high kinetic energy and anti-Jedi capabilities. The Jedi's entry wounds were tiny, and only a few moments after from being created, began to bubble with blood. The exit wounds were about the size of grapefruits.

The Knight swayed, his green blade humming as it gyrated through the air.

Nephill let out a satisfactory grunt, moving forward despite the screams of his damaged body, as the Knight struggled to stay on his feet, his leg threatening to give up. The Mandalorian emptied the clip, which was small when compared to a blaster pistol - its sole drawback. This last flurry of rounds, which Nephill fired at a variety of spots on the Jedi's body, were deflected through the Force and lightsaber. One round snuck past the Jedi's defenses and blew through his left shoulder, destroying the bone and rendering the rest of the arm useless. Had it been his right, his lightsaber would have clattered to the floor. As this was his non-dominant side, the Jedi was now only in more pain and weaker - but still a much potent threat.

Nephill ejected the spent magazine, taking several awkward strides forward to close the distance. The Jedi was swaying worse now, his face scrunched in pain, his impractical long hair sticking to his skin from sweat.

Just as Nephill slammed in the mag, he was taken off guard as the Jedi gestured, and the weapon was ripped from his grip and traveled through the air, clattering to the floor behind the Jedi.

"You...have lost...Mandalorian," the Jedi gritted out, shaking on his feet as blood poured from his wounds and sweat beaded his forehead. His voice was high pitched and shook. Nephill gave the aruetii credit for that. Any other man would have been on the floor by now.

The two stood a body's length apart now.

"Ret', Jetii," he said, voice husky as he charged forward, ignoring the pain as pure fight-or-flight instinct ran through his body.

The Mandalorian smoothly flipped his wrist cortosis blade out of its gauntlet, and stabbed forward as he made to tackle the Jedi about the torso in a desperate attack.

The Jedi swung his blade in a one-handed grip to catch the cortosis blade, batting it aside and chopping through the top half of one Nephill's gloved fingers on that hand. Nephill's mind registered the pain of that strike several seconds later, but by then it would not change the outcome of the duel.

Nephill's momentum was already established, and the Jedi's body failed him. His lightsaber moved for a second strike to gut the Mandalorian, but was too slow, lactic acid and tired muscles failing him. Just as the Jedi was beginning to move his blade back, Nephill body slammed the Jedi, buy'ce tucked into his chest and connecting with the Jedi's upper chest, cracking ribs. The Mandalorian's hands, minus one half a finger, grabbed the Jedi in a bear hug and knocked the two to the ground.

There was a sickening crunch as the Jedi's already shattered leg disintegrated from contact with the floor, and the Jedi's damaged torso was further damaged by taking the full brunt of the two's fall. The Jedi let out an ear-splitting scream, which Nephill's helmet systems automatically muted, his grip slackening as his lightsaber fell, extinguished, to the floor.

Nephill's own body was spasming in suppressed pain as he moved his uninjured hand to grip the Jedi's exposed throat. The Jedi's body was readily spewing blood all over Neph's chestplate, and his one good arm moved to weakly beat at the Mandalorian's chest, trying to fight him off as his air flow was cut off from desperate lungs.

The Jedi's pained and slowly oxygen starving brain gave up the futile punches and tried to focus with the Force, and Nephill saw in the man's eyes as he struggled amidst panic to find the concentration needed to summon the power to save his life. Nephill's injured hand, still smoking from the dismemberment, joined the second to grip onto the neck with all of his might as he felt unnatural forces begin to push against him, struggling to push him off of the Jedi's body.

It took several long seconds for the Jedi to die. That unnatural force against the Mandalorian's chest faded in moments, and the vibrancy of life in the Jedi's eyes began to fade with his life. The struggling was toddler strength now, the Jedi's sole hand still pushing pathetically at Neph's chestplate.

And it was then that Nephill saw something that disturbed him.

Peace.

He had seen violent death too many times, and the Padawan he had killed before in the Outer Rim had died like any other man he had killed, fighting him and hating him with his breath.

But not this Jedi. As his eyes clouded over, the man's torn body relaxed, mouth relaxing into an easy smile, conflicted eyes smoothing over and closing as the Jedi's body went limp, arm relaxing to his side as he went into eternal sleep.

Nephill's hands relaxed, shaking as he withdrew him from the dead Jedi's throat. He then heard the pounding at the blast doors, and the frantic radio transmissions. He realized the entire comms network had heard everything. Including the sounds of combat and the Jedi's gurgling.

"Opening the door," he stammered, voice tired. He was spent. Staggering to his feet, he stopped only to collect the fallen Jedi's lightsaber as he hobbled over to the blast door controls.

The duel with the Jedi had seemed to transcend the boundaries of time, and only now his mind took in the rumblings of battle around him and the frantic klaxons alerting the station to evacuate. It was only then that he took account of the counter that he had set earlier. 8:12. Had it only been less then two minutes? It had seemed to last a lifetime...

Slamming the button down, the doors opened to reveal the crowd of Mandalorians that had volunteered to aid him in his mission to secure the control room.

Jedi blood dripping from his beskar'gam, Nephill surveyed the T-visors rushing into the corridor, so tired, and simply fell back against the wall to grab a moment to force air back into tired lungs.

At that moment, he thought of only one person, and hoped she was okay...he knew he wasn't.

 

[Saul Perth]

"Nine minutes remaining.", said the automated voice, far too calmly for the situation.

Saul turned and looked over the survivors in the room. There was only eight, the pilot that had joined up with them, three station crew armed with only sidearms, and four fully equipped GA troopers, hardly a strike team, but now wasn't the time to be picky.

"We've got to go, there's a bank of escape pods close by, they're our best shot. Let's mo-"

Even Saul's unpolished senses detected the death of as powerful of a Jedi as Garuke. An aura of death had fallen over the station since the Mandalorian attack, but Markus's death washed over him like an ocean wave, stopping him cold. The chill of death was quickly churned into the flames of hatred as the darkness within him stirred.

"Get to the pods, I'm not done here.", he ordered.

Saul didn't wait for a reply before turning his back and activating his lightsaber once again, it's blue beam held loosely by his side as he slowly walked to the blast door that stood between him and the enemy. They were almost there, he could sense them. Three in front, then more behind, their aura's blurring across the distance. He let his senses focus on the first of the three, perhaps he was killer, so proud to have felled a Jedi, but then also perhaps he was not, Saul couldn't be sure. Unless, of course, he killed them all. His focus tightened around the first, he could feel his excitement, his pride, his fear. Fear, yes, he should be afraid, for he marches to his death.

Saul unconsciously balled his left hand into a fist as his focus shifted from the whole body to the neck. He felt the man fall to the ground, clasping his throat. His experience, his armor, his weapons, his pride, all was wasted as he thrashed on the ground, grabbing at his crushed windpipe. The man had been reduced to nothing more than animal fear, being struck out of the darkness by something beyond his understanding. Saul could feel his fear, heightening, burning hotter. Until suddenly, the flame was gone, snuffed out by the chill of death. The cold rush flowed over him again, but rather than unsettling him, this time it was nothing more than a cool breeze flowing over him, enveloping him. And Saul was forced to admit, he liked it, he liked it alot.

 

[SwineOfTheSkies]

"Nine Minutes Remaining", Nine minutes Berric knew would either feel like one minute or a lifetime at this point. He stood in front of the other Allaince personnel, all grizzled from the harsh conflict which had been waged over this station, Berric being no exception but it was coming to a close. Berric wasn't sure if him or any of the other Allaince soldiers would make but he was gonna try, atleast and even if he died along with the station he would know he helped the battle, at least but he wasn't going to let that happen. After gave his orders, Berric was sure there was something Saul had to deal with which was no involvement of himself and his lack of any reply definitely showed this.

"Alright you heard him, lets head out!"

Berric led the the Alliance soldiers away from the control room with a hand signal, ignoring anything going on in the control but putting his concentration on getting all of the Alliance personnel to the escape pods, alive. As he left the room he slung his carbine around his shoulder and pulled out his comlink, he needed to make sure his droid didn't get destroyed. Of course there were greater things to be more concerned about but his astromech had been Berric's best friend for more then a decade, sure of course he'd rather it get destroyed then the Alliance men but he knew at this point there would be a possibility to get all if not most people off the station so why not his droid.

"Clackers....are you there?" A few binary beeps came from the other side of the comlink which confirmed what Berric said. Berric had spent so much time around his astromech that he can now understand Binary. "Are you in the maintenance tunnel?" a similar set of beeps sounded from the comlink responding with a yes. "Alright well take it to the escape pods, we're gonna be leaving soon." This time Clackers gave an enthusiastic tone to his binary. Berric and his team were almost to the escape pods now. They just had to hold off any fleeing Mandalorians for a long enough time to get the jedi off as well as the Alliance soldiers.

 

[Nike]

She wished she had any of the composure in Neph’s voice. He seemed strong, sure of himself and of them all. Meanwhile, Zara was having trouble even moving. The more she thought about the gravity of the situation, the harder it became to breathe. Ice had started to work its way from the back of her neck down her spine, wrapping itself around the muscles in her arms, stiffing her grip on her rifle. Her thoughts became heavy and frozen as well. Breathe in. She reminded herself. Breathe out. Don’t think. Just do.

Too late, she stepped aside to avoid the ill aimed shots from a retreating soldier. Two of them hit her left hip, right below her belt, tearing into her flight suit and searing her skin. She let out a hiss, screwing her eyes tight against the pain. Through narrowed eyes she found the chakaar who’d shot her and fired shakily at his back. A bolt hit him in the back of his knee, tripping him up. A verd in dark blue armor finished him off and Zara nodded in approval. At least the heat of the bolt seemed to thaw her fear, and adrenaline dulled the pain. With only ten minutes, there was no time to seize up. She spared a moment of full attention on Neph’s voice. After a quick glance around she saw him, strong and composed, and realized with some surprise how much she trusted him. She was ready to follow him anywhere. To the control room, then. Away from the escape pods, towards uncertainty.

Except…No, he wanted her to go to the pods. She looked back at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Someone had to secure a way to escape, he was right; it was the practical thing to do. But was he really sending her away, like a child? Heat pricked at her skin. Who was he to order her around, anyways? “Nayc. I want—”

Before she could continue, an empty voice echoed through the speakers. “Warning. Nine minutes to self-destruction. Evacuate immediately. Nine minutes remaining.”

Zara bit her lip until she tasted blood. No matter how much she hated it, there wasn’t time to argue. It had to be done. “Fine.” She spat the word out and switched back to the general com. “With me to the escape pods.” With a large gesture, she signaled the way down a separate hallway. The wound in her leg caused a slight skip in her step as she led the group. Quite a few verd had followed her. For a moment, she was struck by that. She had only the vaguest idea what she was doing, acting more on instinct and training than anything else, and they were following her. She supposed that meant she couldn’t let them down.

Little resistance met them as they made their way down, just a few Alliance stragglers headed for the pods. Cowards probably, she thought as a man she shot slumped to the ground, cowards who had hid from the first battle. “Alright. Clear the room and take up defensive positions,” Zara said as they came up on the pods. Bitterness from being sent away still saturated her voice. “Stop the aruetiise from leaving, but touch an escape before this place is about the blow and I’ll slot you my—”

Suddenly, loud, excited chatter started to play over the general com. It was coming from the other team. Something about a Jedi. And Nephill. She heard his voice, or rather his cries, but it was difficult to understand what was going on. Her stomach sank and her mouth felt dry. “Neph,” she said, added her own desperate voice to the mix before switching over to their private channel. “What’s going on? Neph?” She should have been there with him, he shouldn’t have told her to leave. A loud cry of pain made her flinch. “Nephill! Har’chak. Say something. I swear, if you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Eight minutes remaining,” the ship announced as they entered the escape pod room, and Zara was forced to push the worry from her mind. A few soldiers and other personnel were already there, three of them managed to get off in a pod while the other two were quickly disposed of. As told, the Mandos turned to guard the entrances. None of them so much as glanced at a chance to escape, and Zara doubted it was fear of her that held them back. She took her own place and reloaded her rifle with stiff fingers as she waited. They didn’t wait long.

A group of defenders were coming up on them, led by a man in an orange flight suit. “Tracyn!” she shouted into the com, and another battle began.

 

[Nephill Kilner]

Nephill had only felt this way several times in his life. The first had been in his verd'goten. His father was as unyielding as his namesake...Kom'rk Kilner would have no less but the toughest training for his progeny. Both he and his sister were trained as commando material from childhood. His buir's steely voice would wash over him till the end of his life, Nephill thought. Always with some sort of correction, "Neph'ika, you hold your rifle too tightly...you won't be able to make adjustments quick enough. When a chakaar is dashing away from you, your grip must be loose enough to allow for adjustments or he will turn around and blast your head off while you stare at him like a moron" or "Neph'ika, focus! You have the attention span of a Jawa in a parts yard...keep your mind on the single-track or some hut'uun will gut you from behind!"

Kom'rk had a seemingly endless supply of anecdotes and allegories for each small lesson, as well as the untimely, violent, or humiliating death that Nephill would suffer if he failed. That pragmatic, gratingly calm voice would stay with him till the day he died - and had survived even as Kom'rk's physical form departed the mortal realm.

And in times like this, of sheer pain and desperation, of exhaustion of the physical and mental realm, he felt...lost as he had felt as a child. The pain, although far from his maximum threshold, coupled with the completely unglorifying and disturbing nature of the Jedi's death, coupled with a billion emotions resurging themselves from reintroduction to combat such as this, surrounded by T-visors, which evoked too many emotional memories, was knocking the wind out of him.

And like times before, Kom'rk's eternal, visceral voice would awaken him. "ON YOUR FEET BOY! MY SON WILL NEVER BE NO NIBRAL! MOVE! Or meet dishonorable death," his voice rang out, clear as life, furiously emotional before tapering off to deadly seriousness.

In that conjured mixture of memory and imagination, Nephill re-stoved the burning fire inside of him that gave him the will to continue where an average soldier would not. Pushing himself off of the wall, he swiftly whisked the dead Jedi's lightsaber off of the blood-streaken ground, clipping it to his belt as a trophy, and assumed the point position in front of the small squad, carbine out and ready. He moved as a rejuvenated, fresh soldier, with his hands moving as if normal; not as if they were missing two fingers.

"Listen up. I want three vode to accompany to the control room. That is it. The rest move to the escape pods now. I have received word through the secure comms net that our forces are in danger of being overrun. Help them out, and kill the fleeing GA hut'unne. rescue as many vode as you can," Nephill said, forcing his tone to remain calm, telling a lie which would probably be partially true anyways. He doubted the token force that any Mandalorian commander would dispatch to the escape pod bay could resist the thousands of panicked, fleeing GA personnel - no matter their reduced combat capacity.

With that done, and Zara's words sticking in his consciousness uncharacteristically long, despite the fact that he was having a hard time doing much of anything else, he switched to a secure line just with her and replied, not bothering to conceal his haggard condition. "I..went toes with a jetii...didn't go too well," he said with a weak attempt to chuckle. He deliberately made his tone flippant, succeeding partially; the goal being to make the whole duel seem like no big deal. "Listen. You can't worry about me," he said, even though he couldn't repress the fact that he really, really did care about what she thought, something that he would remain in firm denial of...at least for now. "Focus on the mission, Zar'ika. And if the opportunity presents itself, you get your shebse onto a pod and leave, along with as many vode as you can gather. To vac with all this talk of going down bravely. The thousands of GA soldiers you will go on to kill for Mand'alor is a million times more honorable then some sort of misguided, wasteful sacrifice. Trust me on this one. As long as you take no shame in living to fight another day, you will receive no shame." He paused, his labored breathing from his damaged torso leaving an uncomfortable pause, with Nephill wrought by emotion on his end. He wasn't ready for this...but he had to do it to remain focused. "Ret'urcye mhi, cyar'ika," he said softly, and then severed the connection.


With that done, he could push Zara out of his mind and leave him focused, as he needed to be. Already he felt calmer. However, Nephill knew even his lifelong conditioning wouldn't allow his body to maintain itself as he needed it to, and especially with a tough fight ahead, he couldn't take any gambles. Although his farewell to Zara allowed for the capacity to be a final farewell, he was by no means giving up. His head remained slightly foggy and slow, and he could feel the trappings of a massive migraine building from combat stress. His body still ached like an old hag's. He had no choice.

Ever so reluctantly, he keyed in a series of command through his helmet's interface, and an internal system within his beskar'gam injected him with a drug. Within seconds, his elevated pulse and his body's circulatory system distributed the drug throughout his body, reaching his brain - triggering several biological events. Instantly, he was flooded with confidence and enhanced sensory information - everything seeming slightly brighter, clearer, or more vibrant. Contrast was more readily distinguished, and he felt he could more readily gauge distances and that his hand-eye coordination was improved.

All the pain and soreness in his muscles and head faded, to be replaced with a general mood and a buzzing energy. In fact, this particular drug's potential for euphoria, along with several other desired effects, did make it an attractive, powerful recreation drug for university students in the Core - or so he had heard. Witnessing a Zeltron go completely insane on it had forced him off it several years ago. But in situations like these, nothing compared to it.

His muscles were twitching and quivering in constant states of readiness, and he knew without testing it (although he felt a powerful impulse to do so) that he would move with unnatural speed and vigor. His mind felt clear and streamlined, and moved at a "hyper" pace - accelerated and operating at high capacity. He felt as if he was uninjured. The only indication he was injured was the uncomfortable shifting of damaged tissues moving where they shouldn't be - something easily ignored in combat.

And he felt ready to explode. Adrenaline-like rushes of the "fight-or-flight" response make him feel like a time bomb.

His movements brisker and noticeably better coordinated, he was settling into the confidence and cockiness that the drug also provided to a certain degree when suddenly, the man Neph had allowed to take point stopped dead in his tracks, clutching at his neck. With an audible crunch, the man's neck twisted to a sickening angle, and he collapsed into a heap onto the durasteel floor.

Nephill determinedly took point, a knot of fear gripping his gut even against the giddiness of the drug. That was no jetii magic. That was darjetii magic. He had seen it in his dealings in the Outer Rim, and the abilities displayed by those power-sick beings were one of the few things in the galaxy that really frightened the Mandalorian. The jetii had rules, and were thus predictable, and were far from immortal. These darjetii and their ways had no boundaries.

The blast door was only a few dozen meters ahead, a trek the three remaining Mando'ade crossed silently, each left to their own thoughts on the impending conflict.

The most technically adept Mandalorian broke away from the group and began tearing at the door control panels, and adeptly began manipulating several wires and chips. Nephill and the second verd, a rather bulky female Zabrak clad in red beskar'gam, took breaching positions facing the door. The Zabrak knelt, and Nephill stood knee to shoulder with her, both with weapons raised.

As the two were granted a brief respite to gather their thoughts as their third brother labored at the panel, Nephill rethought his strategy and brought his carbine to his shoulder in an easy one handed grip, and with his wounded hand drew his Verpine shatter pistol, taking care to wrap his remaining fingers very tightly around it and latching onto it with a death grip. No more magic tricks; Nephill was taking no chances with this jetii. He intended to kill him quickly, leaving some sort of honor-bound duel for another day.

With a shower of sparks, the blast doors began sliding open, and Nephill could make out a hazy figure wielding a blue jetii'kad. Without hesitation, he and the Zabrak opened fire. Nephill knew that blaster bolts could be too easily redirected by lightsaber wielders right back at their shooters, something that his inexperienced Zabrak counterpart did not know as she blasted away with her rifle.

Nephill launched a high explosive shrapnel round at the Jedi's feet, aiming it about a meter in front of him to avoid it being cleaved by a lightsaber. With his other hand, he pumped the trigger of his Verpine shatter pistol, loosing high-velocity anti-personnel rounds at the Jedi, propelled by powerful magnetic fields that moved the tiny rounds with extreme speed that even a Jedi would be unlikely be able to evade on their own, let alone while having a grenade round and blaster bolts to deal with as well, and a third Mandalorian spinning around to add his rifle to the fray...

 

[Saul Perth]

In a more level-headed state of mind, Saul wouldn't have simply stood in front of the door and make himself such an easy target. However his aggression did have it's tactical advantages. As the door slid open he began readying a powerful Force Push to deal with the Mandalorian he sensed as being in the center of the group. He was caught off guard when one of the inaccurately fired virpine rounds clipped his left side, slightly above his hip. The armor he was wearing helped to slow the projectile and deflect most of the shards safely to the side, however a few managed to pierce through. The sharp pain diluted his focus, but increased his anger. Instead of a focused assault to knock the leader back several meters, the resultant Force Wave staggered the whole group.

Simultaneously, the fired frag grenade was detonated via it's proximity detonator. Although Saul didn't realize it at the time, Master Rathru had just saved his life. A quick Force Barrier was able to distribute the momentum of the shrapnel evenly across his whole body, rather than just the impact points, knocking him backwards through the air and his lightsaber out of his hand, but preventing any damage. With a bit of help from the Force, he was able to guide himself to land safely behind a large control console.

The three remaining Mandos quickly regained their balance and had begun firing again, but Saul wasn't done, not by a long shot. Standing up from behind the console, Saul extended his left hand and willed the Force to bind itself around the left Mando, his blaster clattered to the floor as he flew to hang in front of the Jedi, serving as a human shield. Extending his right he crushed the neck of the Mando on the right. This left only the leader of the group. Saul was curious to see what he would do, would he fire on his on comrade to attempt to kill him, or would he try to talk his way out?

 

[SwineOfTheSkies]

Berric turned from a station corridor to be looking into the tinted T-shaped gaze of a Mandalorian's armor. With one smooth movement he unslung his carbine from his shoulder and gripped it tightly with both of his glove covered hands and pulled the sights up to his eye and squeezed the trigger multiple letting loose red streams of blaster fire down his field of view hitting the Mandalorian guard each time in the chest leading him to drop to the floor, dead. Berric commanded his group of men into the escape pod bay and yelled,"This is it men!, Don't let any of them leave!". In an instant of the two groups meeting eachother's gazes they opened fire. Berric dropped his carbine onto the metal floor and pulled the pistol from the holster attached to his utility belt and held it in front him with a fully extended arm. With his left arm he reached to his utility belt to pull out the hilt of a concealed vibrosword. He then held it down and aimed it towards the ground and pressed a button to fully extend the blade. CLINK!, Berric's astromech used his blowtorch to burn the locked grate at the end of the maintenance tunnel leading to the escape pod bay went out for a second only to have it's chassis covered with ash from the exposure exposed to the hail of blaster fire in the room so it stayed against the wall hoping it would be ignored by both sides. Berric re-holstered his blaster pistol and held the vibrosword with both of his hands. His adrenaline took over and he charged the leader or at least whom he thought was the leader as she yelled to her fellow Mandalorians warning of the Alliance's presence. He charged at her holding his blade in front of him until he got close to make a swing with his vibrosword when he held the blade above his head to make a strike.