Flashpoint Theed.

[Sangga]

The insurgent commander was reviewing the first casualtie when the almighty detonation at the hangar turnedthe tide again. A dozen fighters, with the foolish shining plating burst into the sky. It was all for nought if their King died, the last twitches of a dying, pompous beast. He barked out order to his units to focus on the Palace, that was whre the victory now lie. "All units in the City, kill the King."

They had detonated the wreck! The fools were so desparate, they had fired on the wreck! The marksman, had to give it to them. He began picking up his gear and would move to report his findings. His assingment was over for now, there was no point in staying to watch the troops in the hangar seal themselves in where he could not see them.

The cavalry began to charge the downed corvette. But at a glance, the landspeeders peeled off and made headway to chase a transport already on its way to the Palace. The Tuskcat dragoons rode to the perimeter and leapt over the defenders. Some fell but a core ten riders and beasts were now among the crew of this lauded 'Starborne', and the Tuskcats were hungry!

The tripod mounted gun overheated, te covering fire was halted. As quickly as the first shots had rung out, they were silenced. The thirty armed men, had become small fire teams, grabbing as much cover as they could, the moomentum stalling as their cover stopped. A fireteam of five brave souls charged the great entrance. "For the Alliance!" The main element, on the Main Promenade, scattered into cover as the Dynasty fighters took to the sky. Passing over the palace, the two fighters pulled up into the swarm of chrome-plated fighters.

"Oh my..." The King managed to get onto his good leg, the other not taking any weight. "... I'm unable to feel my arm." The huge explosion shook the Palace, the world, there world was coming to an end. He had to get communications out, they needed help... the Dynasty's Allies could respond. "Back... back to the throne room." Slowly, he began to hop while holding a pillar, moving to the next one. "Thank you."

 

[Herrith]

Avlin cursed under her breath and jabbed the stimulant into the King's arm, injecting its contents. As he stumbled to his feet and began to hobble, she stood and recieved an incoming communication.

"Avlin! Where are you? We're coming up on the palace. There's six of us and we have transport. How's the king?"

She put a hand up to her helmet and spoke.
"Throne room. The King is injured. Not lethal. Yet. Prepare for us to come out via the windows. Fastrope. Don't be late."

The assassin approached the king and put his arm over her shoulders, helping him to the throne room.
"Transport incoming. Give them a few minutes."

She set him down next to the window.
"Relax, but keep alert. Don't pass out. No guarantees you'll wake up if you do."

The assassin pulled off her helmet and clipped it to her utility belt, pulling her sniper rifle's scope up to her eye and looking down the hallway. This was either going to be a last stand or a near rescue. Neither looked promising. Which was why she kept the carbine the king had used by her side.

 

[The Good Doctor]

Looks like the mounted weapon still isn't firing, what a relief. As the thirty men started to spread out across the area where the Palace entrance is, five of them began to charge the palace gates immediately. Pierceson glanced then glanced to Leandros and then hand-signaled him to fall back. Pierceson falls back, moving straight back to a wall with the main hall just around the corner, with his head down, he shouldn't be able to get hit by any blaster fire through the windows or the door way this way. While waiting for the insurgents come up, Pierceson then puts his left hand to his ear-mounted comlink and tries switching channels. The main one might be taken over, but maybe there is another frequency being used, and if so he should at least attempt to try it. He switches channel and he can hear static, but he thinks he hears the Blade of the King, Av speaking.

"Thorne Room. The King is injured. Not lethal. Yet. Prepare for us to come out via the windows. Fastrope. Don't be late."

What a relief, the King is alive and he is going to get transported out. Looks the Dynasty forces are trying to control the situation now. Quickly, before the insurgents get too close, Pierceson tries to communicate on the same channel. "Hello? This is Lt. Pierceson. Attempting to hold the palace entrance against approximately thirty incoming insurgents with an RSF operative. Any one copy?" And thats all he would have time to say, hoping that someone would at minimum acknowledge it on the channel. Back up would be nice, but probably not something he should count on considering the circumstances. Understandable but for now, Pierceson and Leandros need to hold these insurgants off on their own.

Now concentrating on nothing else, Pierceson then takes out an EMP grenade from his belt, activates it, he throws it just outside the palace entrance as the five men charged unopposed to the entrance. Once the five insurgents came up to the doors, the EMP grenade should have went off by the time they got there. It should have hit most if not all of them, or at least Troy Pierceson is hoping so. The EMP grenade should have disabled the powerpacks within their weapons for all in the blast radius, which would make the weapons in their hands useless until they load a spare powerpack. With that, Pierceson then takes his particle beam rifle and then fires four of the shots at the enemies. With two of them aimed at one insurgent and the other two aimed at another. If Leandros shoots at them too, the five insurgents should go down rather quickly.

 

[210yeti]

Leandros nodded when reicived the hand signals and slowly got up, keeping his weight of his injured leg. He limped slowly making sure he wasn't going to get shot. He had forgotten his personal commlink in the Armory and silently cursed himself when he saw the Lt. Peirceson talking on it. He propt himself on the wall and peeked around and spied the five charging insurgents. Looking back at Troy, Leandros was releaved when he saw the Lt. arming an EMP grenade.

Following the arc, Leandros prepared his pistols for when the grenade set off. He popped out in sync with Troy and emptied both of his energy packs in his pistols, blasting the remaining insurgents that the Lt could not hit. Ducking back into cover and reloading both pistols with lighting efficiently, Leandros crossed through the gap and joined Troy on his side of the hallway. "What's the status on the King? I forgot my comm link in all chaos." He asked as he grimaced, lifting his bad leg.​

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

The air was a turbulent hurricane of chaos. Craft were swarming in close groups of squadrons, each picking off their own targets. Without IFF, there was no distinct way short of by sight to tell friend from foe, with the craft lacking the complex interfaces and advanced HUD of other starfighters.
Lucky for her, her pilots knew little better than the simplistic interfaces provided to them by their fighter. But she could still see flying around her the mix of skill that had been provided to her by the pilots at her disposal. On her tail she had a new guy filling in for Jonas, covering the tails of both Halitt and Aniss before they each broke off. She'd need to consider his replacement at a later time if he couldn't be put back in the cockpit.

Her thoughts snapped back as a hostile aircraft shot past, careening to the left with a fireball left in its wake with the distinctive glint of chromium plating. The noise of its passing so close before her was an immense barrage of sound around her, and she glanced to make sure she wasn't winged by its passing. She had her target it seemed, veering hard left after it, letting her wings turn vertical and the g-forces fight against the natural force of gravity. It held her to her seat and her muscles tensed against its pull, trying to drag her grip from the controls. It was a fast, daring threat: darting, weaving and rolling between games of hunt and hunted between her pilots and theirs. But this fighter was bold, and on another level entirely from the rest. Its hull was marked with a thick red stripe along one wing to denote some rank or affiliated squad, she hadn't seen enough of the other fighters to yet make the conclusion when she was chasing behind them. She had to weave after it, making her own manoeuvres within a second of this threat performing them, hoping there was clearance at every turn and move between herself and the surrounding drama.

She had to credit its evasiveness, never staying within her forward firing arc for longer than a few seconds, and rarely ever appearing without the risk of collateral targets if she missed. Her finger rested on the trigger, itching to pull at the opportune moment and at the same time hesitant for the possible friendly damage around her.
Fighters were falling from the air intermittently. Most, she had to pridefully say, were those of the rebels, a testament to RNAF training and reassuring her that her own speech hadn't merely been empty words. But every so often there would be one of her pilots taking hits or trying to shake a fighter whose construction was identical in almost every way (short of aesthetic personalization and the chromium). It wasn't a game of quantity in this battle, as every fighter had the chance of targeting a friend or foe and each one was clearly feeling the pressure. The fight instead came down to nothing short of intuition and raw skill. And that worried Helia, already fearing how many pilots she'd be hosting a funeral for after it was all over.

The fighter she was chasing engaged its guns and spat laser-fire into the air, forcing friend and foe alike to jink clear from its shots, an act that was nothing short of malicious, attempting to force combatants into disadvantaged positions. They had the numbers to make sacrifices, she did not.
It continued to enter a steady dive in its manoeuvres, probably the most persistent motion it made in its flight path, circling in laps around the dome at the top of the hangar and weaving off with others over the broader space over Theed.
The rising smoke up here was all the more clearer now that she was in the air, and she had to force herself from being distracted. In the distance, she could see two more fighters, similarly marked as the one she was chasing, two more reds entering the fight. She couldn't allow that, though for the moment there was nothing she could do to prevent them, else she'd have to give up the chase on her closest kill at the moment.
She squeezed the trigger sharply, tightening every muscle in the hand to grip the firing mechanism unwaveringly, hearing the shots burst from the barrels of her fighter and race ahead, they were like a dozen rapiers of green light that forced her target into more conventional patterns of evasive manoeuvres, and below she watched as some of her shots left craters in the architecture of a Theed commercial buildings. There were markets not far from it, populated with stalls and not a single living resident in her fleeting field of view. She had to focus, and keep telling herself that the sooner her kills came, the sooner this fight would be over and less people would have to die.
Her target banked as she'd watched the market, forcing her to bank after it a few seconds, flying beneath archways and daring to skim just above the rooftops of buildings in an attempt to lose her. No doubt he was starting to realise that she was an exceptional pilot as well.
She fired again, hoping this time to score a hit and was met with score marks across her own wings as the two other red marked fighters took up chase behind her. She swore violently as her own shots barely missed and as the new contenders gave chase, turning the hunter into the hunted lest she lose them.
"King's Own One, fall in. I've got hostiles on my six. Requesting assistance" She tried to keep her voice as level as she could. Each breath through the respirator mask filled her lungs with oxygen-rich air, but the adrenaline was forcing back the calm it would otherwise instil.
There wasn't an answer at first, more shots zipping past her as they closed in on her. She was running out of options above the rooftops, no matter how close, instead taking an even lower turn, zipping through the streets with a suicidal hope she'd react before crashing into any walls. Seeing her target continue to fly above, peeling away where her own routes through the streets would not allow. She couldn't lose it, it wasn't in the cards.
"Halitt, Aniss, anyone! Where the hell are you?!"
Zipping past more, she came across areas of population where the civilians were being corralled and ushered to areas of shelter or protection, many ducking below such a low flying aircraft as her self, the score marks along her wings giving concern to some over how in-control this apparently insane pilot had over their aircraft. She liked to think she wasn't insane, but if so much as one of those civilians spoke out, if she lived she'd be hearing about it from her superiors.
More turns followed, trying to break away from the populated areas and in darting through she passed where smoke: from fire, bombs and some cases of what she could only think to be RNSF-triggered smoke charges. Every turn she forced herself to do battered her head against the side of her chair, her helmet rocking from side to side as the angle of her body was violently turned from left to right, and the press of g-force on her body making her feel ever-smaller in the seat of her chair. Her teeth were gritted beneath the mask, trying to hold a breath through every turn as the weight on her lungs rapidly increased and dissipated just as quickly. Any tighter turns and her craft wouldn't react fast enough, she wouldn't react fast enough, pushing her chances as she was already.
A flash of a fighter overhead with a streak of red caught her eye, watching as they searched for her above the level of the streets.

And the briefest glimmer of an idea began to hatch in her head.

 

[J-Wash]

Ahead of the speeder, the palace rose up before them. Sukie just about allowed herself a smile when the radio in her ear burst into life.

"Sukie!" came Imy's panicked voice on the other end of the line. "We've got cavalry on us here, some kind of local big feline. We've fallen back to the back doors, but they're not going down!"

Sukie swore and wished she had a cannon or two. Handheld blasters would just infuriate big game, and once something with serious teeth got in amongst her soldiers no amount of armour save them. Decisive action was needed.

"Take the Relient up and over them. Nothing fancy, just a storey or two, that should give you the vantage to-"

A volley of rounds smacking into the rear bumper cut her off. A handful of speeders had fallen in behind hers, all daubed with makeshift Deeja Peak decals, insurgents leaning out of the doors to fire. Two troopers opened their doors to fire back and one of the speeders peeled away to plough into the soft turf of the lawn, but the others dodged, swerved, and gunned their engines in pursuit.

"Vantage to drop a dustbin of thermal detonators on them," Sukie finished, head tucked between her legs as blasters chattered beside her and the glass blew in. "Do you copy, Imy?"

"Copy that, boss, taking her up now!" Imy replied.

Sukie took a breath to calm herself, handing her carbine to one of her comrades as she swiveled through the radio channels. The air force was patchy at best, but she crossed her fingers.

"Helia, this is Bathors, we're heading across Landfall Park to pick up the king. Give us a hand and drop these goons behind us. We're in the lead speeder, RNSF colours, " She leaned forward and put a hand on the driver's shoulder. "Well? Gun it! You want to be here when our air support turns up?"

 

[Cap Red]

Dani swung round the side of a building onto Landfall Park and swore when she saw an RNSF speeder being pursued by four insurgents. Immediately, she picked up speed, swerving round the smoking remains of another vehicle. Next to her, the members of her squad let off a volley of fire, catching two of the insurgents unprepared. The other two were further ahead, and quickly gaining on the unknown soldier. Danika took aim and fired, one, two, three shots. The third hit the engine of the left insurgent, and the vehicle spun out of control, careening into its ally to the right. They both hit the ground, and went up in a cascade of fire and smoke.

 

[Sangga]

The Commander of the insurgents frowned, something was off. He stalked away from the redoubt. "Colonel Farnka, the operation is still... being... conducted." The large man, in the drab greys and black leather armour of the Alliance turned slowly. He scowled at the junior officer that had called him. Slowly he began to pace forward, a Mountain Tuskcat that had cornered some overt prey.

"Our air power has been brought to a stalemate, even the Knights of the Scarlet Cross have not swayed the battle." he was inline with the map table, and his hand gestured to outside the City. "That foolish cavalry commander has not secured the craft before it could get aloft..." there were screams over the intercom, some radio mean had turned a pale grey almost matching the cloth of their uniform. "The trump cards of the dratted Dynasty are all being played to save their precious Monarch... our Primary target." He trusted his digits to the Palace before moving closer still, causing the Lieutenant to began to retreat into a wall. "That, and our men have only just stormed the Palace, as the rescue attempt is being made by those dishonourable Mercenaries that call themselves Starbourne." The worst thing about Farnka's summarisation was that he wasn't shouting. The listener was raptured by each word, rather than recoiling from a deafening roar. He suddenly grasped the front of the Junior Officers tunic and pinned them to the wall. "So, with no further reinforcements for this insurgency mission, am I choosing to withdraw with the best, and now tested elements that we have available, or do you think that this cavalcade of calamity can be carried to a victory?" The report of the escape pursers fates sealed the arguement closed. The Colonel let go and then patted down the front to smooth the creases of the staff uniform. Then turned to leave.

"W-w-what of the units on the Main Pro-" the Lieutenant was silenced by a punch. The Colonel had rounded, and sufficient space to lean into his punch, there was a pair of cracks. The first was the nose of the Lieutenant, the second was the back of his head on the wall. Nobody else raised anyother view. A few had begun packing away equipment, the Colonel sent word for a full retreat.

Above Theed, pressing the Wing Commander to the limit the Squadron Leader, Baron Trisk of the Knights of the Scarlet Cross was enjoying toying with this fiendishly skilled pilot. His fun was then brought to a halt. He couldn't believe it, so much... they had been so close and they were calling a withdraw. He called his Squadron to form up and they got very low and above Helia. All four remaining members, a single flight of Knights, then accelerated passed and dipped one wing then another in a salute to the skilled pilots of the City. They then slammed into full thrust and boomed away from the City.

They had just wiped out those five men! What was around the corner? The field officer, a young Captain, grasped the peak of his cap and pulled it over his eyes as he thought on what to do next. Then the order came in. But so many had died? What was the Colonel thinking? He turned to his men each one ready to do as he ordered. "Regicide, or Retreat?" Each man looked to another, then hefted their carbines ready, and began taking off their capes, and cloaks to reveal the grey, and silver trimmed uniforms. These were all Peakmen, they would look very similar in appearance to the Dynasty-filfth's Palace Guard. These were not jumped up toy soldiers, but descended from the colonists that carved their lives out of the Gallo Mountains to form the settlement of Deeja Peak. Their brother's were guarding the cyclopean gatehouse called Gallo's Maw. Others were spread out among the peaks as watchmen in the wilds. Their Captain looked about from cover, tried to gain glimpses of the Palace front. He instructed five men to use their rappels to get on the roof. Ten men and him would storm the doorway with smoke charges... the remaining ten would... gak to all of it, all twenty of them would storm with him. It was a Palace after all! As the smoke charges arched into the door they rallied with a battle cry "FOR THE ALLIANCE!" Each man hollered after the Captain to storm into the plumes of smoke, then carrying on over the bodies of their fallen comrades ready to kill all they found. "MEN OF THE PEAK! KILL THEM ALL, FIND THE KING AND KILL HIM!"

As the vast structure of the craft rose, it engines roaring louder than any Tuskcat. The Dragoons fired up pitfully. Then a large canister fell among them, one trooper managed to poke it with the tip of a sabre; before seeing the blinking red lights. "GET OU-" he vapourised mid-yell, as did his mount and the three pairs nearest him. The remaining dragoons tried to scramble away as shots, and more 'dustbins' came done among them.

The King sat on the edge of the window and saw the fighters, and noted how they did not reflect the sublight, or firelight from the City. They then rocketed over once more and disappeared. He was pale and shakey, then he saw below units fleeing the City. He almost fell and began sobbing. But he had one last task today, after he was whisked of by the Blade. He moved to the throne and pressed a few keys on the arm. A panel slid out, and he pulled out a comm-link. Small, handhled but linked to the transmitters on the hangar. All comms were silenced, then his pain-ridden panting could be heard on all frequencies. He wiped some spittle on the silk sleeve, and then began. "On this dire day, perhaps the most bloody in our history. I send to every state that is allied to this Dynasty, to every household of the peoples I represent. Both here in Theed and over meadow and sea." He paused for a few moments, as the battlecry roared down the corridors of the Palace. He took this time to return to his spot at the window. "This message, spoken with adoration for each one of you, as if I were able to come to each of you, and shake your hand for your efforts." He held up a hand to let the Blade know he was OK, but his breathing was becoming a little laboured. "For the first time in the lives of most of us, we are at war. Over and over again we have tried to find a amiable way out of the differences between ourselves and those in the North. But it has been in vain." He had to stop to breath, a ting of red marked his lips. A slight cough was uttered away from the comm-link. "We have been forced into a conflict, our very homes ravaged by the savagery of these Northern interlopers. Such a people, stripped of all disguise, follow the mere primitive doctrine that might is right. For the sake of all that we ourselves hold dear, it is unthinkable that we should refuse to meet their aggression. It is to this high purpose that I now call upon each of you, you who will help with this cause. I ask them to stand calm and firm and united in this time of trial." He could feel a retch coming, pressure was building in his chest and abdomen. The shot had harmed more than his arm, it must've passed through the limbs meat. With another sigh he returned to the comm-link. "The task will be hard. There are going to be bloodier days ahead, and war can no longer be confined to the farmsteads, outer-hamlets, and backroom studies. But we can only do the right as we see the right. If one and all we keep resolutely unified, then, we shall be victorious." With that he killed the link and vomited a streak of bright, sticky liquid. It felt like his chest was being crushed.

 

[Herrith]

"FOR THE ALLIANCE! MEN OF THE PEAK! KILL THEM ALL, FIND THE KING AND KILL HIM!"

Avlin put a cruel smile on her face, snarling back a reply with her rifle to the door.
"Shut up and send me more pitiful excuses of warriors to kill!"

As the first charged through the door, she fired and took him out before slinging her rifle and picking up the carbine, firing till that overheated as contacts flooded inside. There was a brief lapse as they regrouped, she gave it about half a second, springing to her feet and running to the shattered window, pressing the button of a thermal detonator and tossing her bandolier full of explosives at the door entry.

"Time's up, Your Highness!"

She grabbed him under a shoulder with an arm and dove out the window, simultaneously aiming her grapple at the side of the building. The grapple flew and embedded itself in the wall, but she didn't reel it in, instead having them descend to the ground and slowing the unspooling as they did so and the detonators in the throne room exploded.

The two hit the ground and she crumpled, taking the blow for the injured king.
"Those speeders better be close.."

She rose her sniper rifle, her pistol being left behind, and scanned in a kneeling position, ignoring shooting pain in her legs from the impact.

 

[The Good Doctor]

Troy Pierceson did hear Leandros' question, but he noticed that Leandros had an injured leg as he saw him limp no too long ago. After the five hostiles who charged the door got killed by a combination of blaster fire from both Pierceson and Andros. He hurried to put his Particle Blaster Rifle away and then unholstered his Plan B Stimgun. He looked to make sure it did have a bacta syringe loaded in it, it did, then he pointed it at Leandros' injured leg and fired, but not before giving the operative a good heads up."Here, here is a bacta stim shot coming your way. It should help with your leg." The shot was fired and since standard NRSF Armor doesn't come with leg protection. It there should be nothing to block the stim from hitting it's target and administering his leg some healing bacta.

Next thing he known the insurgants have thrown smoke charges into the door way, with smoke building up. Then amongst chaos of the battlefield that is Theed he heard ...

FOR THE ALLIANCE!

...coming from outside. Lets see here, smoke grenades, a rather fueled battle-cry and approximately twenty-five men outside to their knowledge. It's obvious what those bastards are up to next and they had to fall back or something. He then looks at Leandros again as Pierceson begins to hear footsteps outside the door way. "If you have any grenades now would be a good time to use them." Pierceson wishes he carried more grenades on him. Would have been really nice so he is hoping Leandros has any on him.

Regardless Pierceson shouted "Fall back!" to Leandros as he puts away his stim gun and draws his Mercy stun blaster pistol as the first of the insurgents get begin to enter through the door way. Pierceson then bolts it down the main hall as the insurgents emerge through the smoke and then taking shots at Pierceson and Leandros with their blaster carbines. As Pierceson was running down the main hall, he was looking at the insurgents and fired 5 shots of his stun blaster into the group of insurgents as Pierceson was running down the hallway. As the Hapan approaches a big door with two corridors going left and right, Pierceson then gets struck by a blaster shot to his upper right arm. With that burning off part of his RNSF base uniform and flesh where it struck, the sudden searing pain caused Pierceson to drop his stun blaster pistol on the ground in full view of enemy.

Pierceson was able to take cover around the corner of the corridor going to the left. Pierceson's particle blaster rifle is the only ranged weapon he has at the moment. He draws un-slings it from his back and tries to wield it normally, for his right arm being shot, with a burning pain and restricted movement as a result being unable to move his right arm to shoulder height. He tries to power-through the pain, amazing what adrenaline can do. Popping his as little of his upper-body around the corner as possible, he fires a few shots of his particle blaster rifle at the insurgents before popping full back into cover. After that, he then hears the King speaking on all frequencies. As nice as it is to hear His Majesty speak, the Hapen is trying not to get killed and concentrate what's going on around him so he is tuning that into the background. Luckily for Pierceson, against twenty one men, the hallway is a better place to fight them than than in the foyer.

 

[210yeti]

Leandros grimaced as he was given the shot. At first it felt like a kath hound bite but the pain slowly subsided. He spotted the smoke grenades and their pillowing smoke, he also heard the the insurgents' war cries. He responded to them with a flurry of blaster fire into the smoke hoping to hit atleast one of them. Dispensing the spent cartridges and slamming home his second to last mags, he followed the Hapen down the hall and to cover on the opposite side of the door way. He waited to take cover before replying to Troy's question on having any extra explosives, "im a field operative. I dont carry explosives." He replied bluntly, he hated that he couldn't come up with a wity response. The situation seemed to be weighing him down slightly.

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

She moved from street to street, letting the flash of overarching bridges and archways large enough pass over her. Above, and just marginally ahead, she could see the red marked fighter, or at least one of them. She couldn't be sure whether it saw her or not, but she only had one chance to attempt what she had in mind.
Gunning the engine she gathered as much momentum as she could, making use of every metre of the open space between the occasional archway. She took as deep breath as she could manage, and with both hands clasped tightly about the flight stick. It was a do or die moment, letting go with one hand, trusting in her grip of the control stick one handed, resting her freed hand on the firing controls. Her laser cannons were armed and ready.

She urged herself to start and with tightening grip that hurt each hand, she pulled the joystick back sharp and hard, forcing the craft to point skyward long before her forward momentum stopped. Immediately she felt the hard press of forces arresting her to the chair, holding the controls to the best of her abilities, her teeth were gritted and she forced her lungs to hold the air despite the weight pressing against her chest. Pressing hard down on the firing controls, the red fire lancing from the barrels of her laser cannons chewed through the architecture of the buildings in the path of the red-streaked fighter, and she continued to fire in a rapid spray which perforated the wing of the fighter by pure luck, forcing herself up into the air in its wake as it fought to arrest its damaged flight and avoid the spinning into the buildings beneath it.

All happening in the space of a few seconds, her hand darted back to the flight stick from the firing controls, fighting the g-force as she felt pinned to the chair. Something wet was spreading across her face beneath the respirator from her nose, no doubt indicating the pressure she was forcing herself into. The creaking of her craft's fuselage drew concerns for the stresses she placed upon it, praying that her wings wouldn't tear off from the change in forces. The groaning suggested it to be an increasing possibility and early damage blinked and beeped on her interface with a rich red.
Travelling skyward while she could, she continued to pull back on the flight stick, feeling her craft slowly roll over on itself and her stomach drop from the back of her body to the top. Dials read of increasing engine temperature as they had during her flight through the streets, and if she pushed herself too far there wasn't much she was going to be able to do to avoid dropping out the air entirely. Head-rush came with dizzying speed and with the oxygen-rich air she was inhaling, she fought the familiar nausea and light headedness.

Steadily the nose of her craft came down again to level with the horizon, leaving her upside down, and she slowly pulled on the stick to level out. Completing the manoeuvre with all the finesse of a stressed amateur.
Her composure was shaken and she could feel her body trembling in the wake of the manoeuvre, glancing back to the damage readings scrolling along the simple interface. She had score marks on her wings and the flight through the streets was leading to significant torsion damage that could tear the wing away with too much force. For the moment she had to maximize the opportunity.

"Halitt, Aniss, respond!" She tried again, removing her respirator and almost giving up hope of a response, though with a crackle, the comms began to answer back.
"Sorry w- *CRACKLE* -mander, what was that, I couldn't hear you?" It was Halitt, though his speech was saturated with static.
"Halitt, I need a status update immediately" Helia jumped on the response. It was more than she had been expecting.
"The royal air force has suffered heavy losses, but we were outnumbered from the start. We're doing all we can to hold them at bay but the damage to the city is practically done"
"It's not over until its over, Halitt. Have the squadron support our other pilots as good as they can, make the enemy pay dearly for every kill. I'll try to help wherever possible, but there's some hostile fighters out there better than the rest I plan to hunt."
"Understood wing commander, we'll keep our eyes peeled"

The comms chirped at her at that moment, as channels outside of her squadron's frequency spectrum came to life.
"Helia, this is Bathors, we're heading across Landfall Park to pick up the king. Give us a hand and drop these goons behind us. We're in the lead speeder, RNSF colours"
"I hear you Sukie, I'll be right over" So the king wasn't dead. At least that was something to cling to. She clicked the comms back to her squadron.
"I've had a request for aid over by Landfall Park. Apparently the king's extraction has hostiles on their tail"
"But what about the fighters?" Halitt responding with a quizzical voice.
"The king is and will always be our priority or we aren't the King's Own. I'll see to supporting the king personally, so I'll need you to make sure the air's kept too occupied for the rebel pilots to interfere. If you see anyone hampering our ground forces, you gun them down." She spoke, settling the matter but letting other questions seep into her mind "How's the new guy doing?"
She wasn't keen to confront the fact Jonas would likely never fly again, but she also wasn't keen on his stand-in dying in their first flight.
"I lost track of him a few minutes into the fight. These aren't our personal fighters, so there's no insignia to tell which of ours he might be"
"Understood" She understood that he'd likely be dead or one of the faceless many that was still fighting to survive the dangers that filled the air, she understood that he was untested as part of her squadron, and she understood that amidst all this, she hadn't thought that he'd be fighting up there alone.


Her distance from the park closed quickly, readying her weapons and steadily climbing to get the altitude she'd need to angle her nose guns toward anything in the park. The red-streaked fighters were out of sight, having shot in the opposite direction after her manoeuvre, she had no doubt that they were
Building after building sped past beneath her and when at last the park came into sight, she watched as a speeder was zooming ahead at a distance away from several others in pursuit. Even from here she could see their colours didn't match the RNSF speeder in the lead, and she armed the torpedo launcher of her fighter.
Before even firing some of the rebel speeders were under fire, exploding and becoming fast moving wreckage that spun out, rolling end over end trailing black smoke before finally coming to rest. There was, not all met their fates so early though, still in pursuit of Sukie and her companions.
Steadily using the same skills of aerial combat to aim into their ongoing path, she readied her shot when-
"Helia! Four o'clock!" Halitt's shouting voice was a shotgun of static-washed noise over the comms channel, almost causing her to jump. She was closing with the target, but spared a glance out the very edge of the cockpit's peripheral glass to see fighters forming up, streaks of red marking each and every one of them.

"No..." Was all she could stammer. They were headed towards her in a perfect formation. Superficial damage marring some, and one showing signs of significant damage from her own surprise attack. Nothing compared to the damage on her own craft, and even watching as they flew with synchronized grace, as though each was the fingertip of a four-fingered hand.
She felt a chill down her spine as they came in low for the kill, unable to steal a few seconds at a time from their oncoming approach. Any moment she'd feel laserfire lance through her craft and that'd be the end of her. A fiery death coming down on their own speeders. Her heart was racing, breathing increasingly heavy, and her skin was crawling with goosebumps in fearful anticipation.

She could feel the tension between them, a daring to try shooting her from the sky before she could fire the torpedo, though she knew that even in an undamaged craft in their position they'd never make it. Her fate would be sealed immediately after however, even if she pulled away now without answering Sukie's request for aid.
Her thumb pressed hard on the activation stud, deploying the torpedo before pulling away. She knew it would be a futile effort to escape her executioners, and her fighter groaned loudly in protest, as though it knew what was coming and had resigned itself to its fate. If this was it, she'd hope it'd be quick. Muttering as much to herself as adrenaline and fear frayed her composure.
Steadily, she could hear their engines get louder, their fighters getting closer, ensuring that each and every one could no doubt share in her obliteration and she momentarily lost herself shouting a profanity at the hubris, urging them to take the shot and finish it. Losing herself as they crept into view above and beside her.
Each steadily wagged its wings and she found herself suddenly speechless. She couldn't see the pilots in their cockpits, but she knew that they'd taken her measure and were saluting her with their planes.
She blinked, watching them as one begin to gun their engines harder and pull away with a power that stunned her. The backdraft was unlike anything she'd experienced before, feeling her control stick shudder even in her grip as they departed at probably twice her speed.

She was shaking in her cockpit, without words for the performance of each of those red-streaked fighters. It took her several seconds to realise Halitt and Aniss were both urgently chattering over the channel for a response. She'd already forgotten she'd fired the torpedo already several hundred metres distant, she hadn't even realised a hand was tightly gripping her family necklace through the material of her gear.

 

[J-Wash]

Sukie held up a hand to shield her eyes from the heat and glare of the fireball behind her as the torpedo detonated, throwing clods of earth and pinwheeling chunks of speeder into the air. For a moment her heart leaped into her mouth as she saw another RNSF speeder fall in behind her, but Helia's fine marksmanship saved its bacon, missing it by inches.

Without the speeders behind them, Sukie could focus on the task ahead. The her car's white headlamps silhouetted Avlin and the King against the steep palace wall, and even picked out the glisten of blood drooling from His Majesty's slumped head. Sukie's driver pulled the speeder into a stop inches away and the Starborne bailed out, taking cover and leveling their guns at the windows and the stands of ornamental trees across the lawn.

Sukie scrambled out of the back seat, one hand on her carbine as she rushed over to put her arm under the king, only to encounter a seeping blackened wound under his armpit, and another long bleeding scorch along his arm. She yelped and wiped her hand on the King's beautiful jacket.

"Fish in trousers, Avlin!" she said, her accent thick in a moment of panic. "I thought you had it under control!"

She gingerly put her arm around the king, cringeing away from him even as his blood seeped into her fatigues.

"C-come on," she said, nodding to the speeder, "there's a first-aid kit in the glove box..."

 

[Cap Red]

Dani saw the speeder come to a careening stop, and instructed her squad to provide additional cover for the beleaguered RNSF's. They circled the park, letting out occasional shots of fire as enemies made themselves visible. Dani parked her own speeder, and ran over to what were clearly Senior officers. As she got near enough, she recognised the King, and she could see that he was badly injured. But there was nothing she could do to assist with that. She was not a medic, and what first aid she knew, had clearly already been applied.

Instead, she turned to the senior officer, who was hauling the King towards the parked vehicle, and delivered her message as they moved.

"Ma'am, I'm Sergeant Stone. Captain Price of Spinnaker sends his regards, and has instructed my squad to make contact with whoever is currently in command of Theed. I have been tasked to inform you that our Mechanised Company is approaching the Capital, ahead of further reinforcements from Spinnaker. My squad and I, have been placed at your disposal and await further orders."

 

[Sangga]

"Time's up, Your Highness!"

He didn't have time to react to the Blade, she cut in deep to his arm pit and their momentum tossed the pair out the window. They began to fall down the several stories, with the ground rising up to meet them at a rate that would make the staunchest heart quiver. The arresting of their momentum was not quick, but the increased pressure caused blood to ooze all the more quicker from his chest and arm wound. The selflessness of the blade was truly shown as the Eriaduan woman lithely hooked herself under him and took the brunt of the landing. Struggling to get up he saw the speeders being chased, the explosions from above, and out behind them. Naboo, Theed... a peaceful paradise, for so many... tossed onto the flames of war. He was passed to the Starbourne commanding officer. "Thank you, Captain..." he saw her cringe. "... apologise, for this... send me your bill... rest assured... expect... am-...-ple... pay-..." he collapsed into the speeder.

His radioman leaned forward to the ear of the Colonel. So, the Peakmen had broken into the Palace. The day was not over... on the outskirts of Theed, Colonel Farnka was going to stand up and order the units with him to return to the City. But at the sight of his air cover leaving... the Peakmen would have to try on their own. No other units would be there to support, save for an extraction. Some light mechanised units concealed themselves in a thicket and were told to return if they heard nothing in a day. The Alliance convoy fled North, to fight more battles, and hopefully be victorious someday. "They knew what was at stake."

Through the smoke, some troopers ran passed the position of Pierceson and Leandros. Then as the few shots claim two of the Peakmen, a rake of fire is sent in their direction. The few men that got passed, with their Captain pushed on to the throne room. The five on the roof swung into the same corridor and now this ten man kill-team had one option. The throne room, the King. They opned the door and Rifleman Trosk was felled, then the thermal detonator tinkled as it rolled along the floor, more than half the team didn't make it. The Captain himself caught some bio-shrapnel from the corpse of his Adjutant. The remaining men stormed the room to find it abandoned. Two sprinted to the window and fired down at the escape party. The reminaing trooper took the Captain to one side and began treating the officer's wounds. He'd lose the eye for certain, but with some more attention he wouldn't die. Now they needed to move. The Rifleman picked up the commander and nodded to the marksman who began to unload their carbines clips as the wounded Officer was practically dragged into the depths of the Palace. They'd hide and then flee from the base of the cliff.

The remaining men in the breach were firing at the cover Pierceson was hiding behind as the smoke began to dissipate. The torrent of fire was immense, yet still another layer of fire was added to the raucous cacophony. Then all went quiet. Some crunching of glass could be heard, the distant gunfire from the Throne room peeled off. This was then broken by a slightly unsteady voice. "Hello there?" There was a little more crunching, a few more people were entering the Main Hallway. "Harry Price... Captain... Spinnaker Mechanised Section. Anybody about?" There was a slight drawl to the voice, was the man drunk? "Feel free... to responed if you are of the Alliance..."

 

[Herrith]

"Fish in trousers, Avlin! I thought you had it under control!"

Avlin grunted as she lifted herself up under the brunt of her gear and her leg injuries, and limped to the speeder as fire sluggishly rained down.

"I did what I could with the kriff I was given during the situation. Our employer survived. I get you have morals, but he'll be fine."

She was slightly taken off guard by Sukie's new accent must have been a native tinge. No matter. The assassin stepped into the speeder and pulled off her helmet as they prepared to leave.

What a day...

 

[The Good Doctor]

After the insurgents charging through the main hall got though with the help with the help of those blasted smoke charges obscuring everything. While still in cover, Pierceson fired with his particle blaster rifle twice at the last insurgents passing through, hoping to get at least one of them. But even so, it's plain to see that the insurgents aren't wasting any time getting to the King. Pierceson and Leandros can't go after them with the insurgents in the foyer that would surely gun them down if they tried.

After that the smoke started to disappear and then the blaster fire from the the hostiles started intensifying to the point where even blind firing was a sure way to get his only weapon at this point destroyed. With the adrenaline fading and the pain of his left arm from the blaster shot hit becoming unbearable. Pierceson quickly dropped his weapon, leaving it suspended via it's sling. He hurried to get out a bacta dose he uses for his Stimgun with his right hand. Forgoing the stimgun, he just immediately stabs himself with it on damaged area of his arm, which initially hurt just as much as the blaster shot itself did. During that however, the blaster fire went silent, for some reason. There were the sounds someone or somepeople stepping through glass. Then a person spoke through the silence.

""Hello there?"
...
"Harry Price... Captain... Spinnaker Mechanised Section. Anybody about?"
...
"Feel free... to responed if you are of the Alliance...""

The Hapan's mind on why the guy's voice is so... off. Why he is here and what he has to do with the Alliance? Probably not the brightest move, but after he discards the stim, the arm begins healing. Pierceson takes a side step out of cover with his full body visible (but a step away from being back into cover). He sees this Harry Price and some men along with him in the main hallway as the smoke is still clearing. His left arm is healing, but still hurts little bit and his arm movement is still a bit restricted. "Who are you and tell me why I don't just shoot you now?" Pierceson demanded to know, as he aimed his blaster rifle weapon at Price.

 

[210yeti]

Leandros was sitting on the opposite side of the doorway of Piersecon. He heard the slurred tone of the insurgent and saw the Lt. reposition himself to peak out. Leandros tried to tell him not to by shaking his head but to no avail. Muttering curses to himself, He repositioned as well to peek out incase Piersecon needed cover for whatever reason.

Today is not my day, thought the naboo native spy. First, the explosion and insurgents running amuck through Theed, to him not being able to sarcastically comment on the whole ordeal, and now he was seeing an insurgent call out people if they were with the Alliance. What in the blue hutt is this kriffing guy talking about. What does the Alliance have to do with any of this?, Leandros thought to himself as he eyed the insurgent down the hall. He had an increasing urge to just shoot the man and be done with the affair and try to make a break for an exit but which exit, Leandros was insure.

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

The fighting continued for a time in the sky as the enemy fighters fought with Theed's own. The chromium plating of the Air Force was dulled, battered and beaten for all pilots that Helia could still see flying through the air.
She'd recognised the signs of shock in her actions by the encounter she believed to be her final moments, taking it easy as to avoid all undue stresses upon both the craft and herself.
"With all due respect Wing Commander, you aren't in a position to rejoin the fight. You're wing's in a pretty bad shape" Halitt stated firmly. He was flying at her four o'clock once the red-streaked fighters had raced away. Aniss was on her eight o'clock, but with the damage she'd received, it seemed her comms unit had taken a hit and every word spoken was three quarters unavoidable static.
"I'm aware of my state, Halitt" The logical part of her mind told her he was right, but the responsibility she felt for those still fighting in the air on behalf of the people of Naboo, on her orders, compelled her to stay airborne.
The red blinking lights across her fighter's interface were calling for her immediate attention to the craft's various components affected by the wing damage. She could feel it shudder, getting increasingly sensitive to the sharpness of turns, or the forces put upon it. She wouldn't have long before the fighter would refuse to fly and force her to return to the hangar before dropping out the sky entirely.
"I'll return to the hangar, but you two make absolutely sure as many of our fighters up there land back in one piece once this is all over. And find the new guy."
"Acknowledged Wing Commander"
She cursed as soon as she cut the channel, conceding to the craft's own pleas for relief. No doubt the rebel craft were making their own steady withdrawal, some daring pilots staying behind to try for a last attempt at a kill. She daren't think how many of her men were left up there.

On approach to the hangar, the mask was over her face again as she banked in a wide arc towards its entrance. Smoke was still trailing from where the crashed vessel had been blown apart and left to burn. It wouldn't be enough to impair her landing, but she ensured her oxygen mask was fixed in place all the same.
It was a textbook landing, even with its wing damage, landing a distance from the crashed vessel and in the clearing that remained cleared by its passing. Coming finally to a rest, she could feel the nausea setting in, taking a moment before releasing her flight harness, her mask and exiting the craft. She was glad to be rid of the blinking array of lights from her field of view, and the annoying bleeping that came with it. Letting the engines fade to silence and her own curses and swearing fill the immediate vicinity.
She'd flown numerous damaged craft before, either through taking minor damage in exchange for a tactical advantage, or during training exercises where she'd attempted to demonstrate a purely improvised flying manoeuvre. But as she stood and circled her craft, the burn marks in her hull were a shocking reminder of how close life and death were from each other. The shot had punctured through the wing in a rather insignificant region of its frame, but it was the stresses that spread in long cracks from the metal wound that made her realise how much she'd pushed it. It was an almost surgically precise strike, perfectly timed to impair flying ability while leaving both craft and pilot intact. She supposed in that manner whichever red-streaked fighter had shot her had given her the choice of whether to push herself to death or to surrender her part in the air to them. A bitter and begrudging respect at that was undeniable, she'd be proud if she could have managed the same precision herself.

A clatter echoed from the far side of the hangar and her attention snapped immediately to face its general direction. Dropping to a crouch behind her fighter she reached for her small sidearm and readied it for firing. Pilots were never afforded anything more than a holdout pistol, for the extreme circumstances they should crash land or have to fight on the ground at the airbases themselves. If she was honest, it would be the first time she'd have to use it outside of training.

From where she was, she could only see the smoking wreckage of the crashed ship, and on the other side various crates and containers left unsecured in the wake of the hangar's rushed evacuation. Anything could have made that sound. A ground crewmen or even a droid, trying to get into the now-secured flight control station, or through the doors leading to the barracks. It could even be hostiles on the withdrawal.
Without their own air cover they'd likely have to withdraw or slip away however they could. It would be tactically sensible.
Slowly, she rose, with her gun at the ready, eyes fighting to overcome the smoke in the air and her heart still racing in her chest. She'd be ready whatever, or whoever, it was.

 

[J-Wash]

Sukie gritted her teeth as she laid her bleeding contractor down inside the waiting speeder, gesturing her sergeant to administer what first aid they could in the back seat. She turned to the roughty-toughty-looking colonial soldier who addressed her.

"Stone, right? Follow behind us and cover us," she said, embarrassed to have to look up to another subordinate at a time like this. "The king's in this car, so defend it as you would defend his person, yeah? Stay on the radio frequency."

She gave her the thumbs up and clambered into the driver's seat of her own speeder, taking a deep breath and holding the wheel in both hands.

"Right, all things being equal Avlin, I think we'd both rather his nibs didn't die of blood loss before the end of the financial quarter, which judging by the amount of claret staining our rear bench, is more likely than not," she said. "So best practice, I reckon, is to get him aboard the Relient. Imy's a smart cookie, she'll have triage and medical set up for sure, besides which it's safe as houses."

Besides, she thought to herself, the last thing bombed and battered people needed was the ultimate authority coughing his last as foreign soldiers wheeled him through a public hospital, especially if he died without having even done his duty to produce an heir. Bloody monarchs. Curian's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Sukie, we're engaging a lot of hostiles trying to break out," she said, her tone calm despite the heavy firefight behind her. "What terms of surrender can we offer them?"

Sukie sighed. "Clemency, indemnity, interrogations for officers only, cushy cells, future employment, whatever. Just make sure you take plenty alive, yeah? Prisoners are leverage."

Curian copied and signed off, leaving Sukie to guide the speeder through the park.