Flashpoint Theed.

[Sangga]

Spoiler: OOC

With it being Jewish New Year, CapRed is with their family. So, after a quick message, I have been asked to skip their turn.

The young, clean cut, officer raised one hand up, his carbine lowered in the other. His men moved in behind him. "I am..." it looked like he had yet to make up his mind up on something. He then vomited, the tension of battle getting to him; or so it seemed. He sttod up straight and tried again. "I am Captain Price, from Spinnaker province. Formerly of His Majesty's Palace Guard, looks like we got here in the nick of." He then pondered on the content of his stomach, then continued to answer the questions. "So to answer your questions in order... Harry Price, and because I'm on your blasted side and my men have just stopped an assault on your position." The men were certainly dressed in the Dynasty's uniform. This Captain Price wore a peaked cap with bright yelow fatigues under his lifesaver vest. His accent was certainly that clipped twang of a man from the commercial hub of Spinnaker. But only a native might pick up that nuance.

Driving away from the Palace the small convoy made for the hangar. This seemed to be the main holdout for the defence, that and their might be a transport to get out of Theed swiftly. Jafan drifted back into consciousness, to see the fires of Theed. The trails of climbing flowers roasted, the marble arches were cracking some were broken. He began moaning, the horror of such a beautiful place being ravaged by war. They would pay, they would pay for this. He turned to Sukie, his vision swimming and his eyes trying to focus. "Captain... General... Ms Bathors... please... stay with us. We will need you more than ever... your Starborne." He fell out of consciousness and then came to. "Make them pay." Something felt like it stabbed him. "Fight with us... they hurt you and us..."

The units fleeing tried one final charge, to overwhlem their captors at the Main Promenade. Any available transport was overlaiden with troops all firing into the line. This desperate charge would only be a mere footnote in some of the reports of the RNSF officers. With this the last efforts of the Deeja Peak Alliance forces were halted. Save one.

Deep in the tunnels of the cliffside that had the Palace on it, two men finally were nearing the exit at the base of the cliff. These Riflemen had abandoned their weapons, one was wounded and being dragged by his subordinate. But they would survive as they disappeared into the Plains, calling up a light mechanised unit that was hiding in a thicket. Just some more vehicles fleeing the capital.

 

[Herrith]

Avlin blankly stared out of the window of the speeder, all sounds muffled to her ears as the pain in her legs flared up again. She'd nearly failed the job. Nearly screwed everything up. The King could have very well died from his wounds had Bathors not arrived sooner. Her expression showed nothing as her bare face was revealed, helmet by her side, but inside the assassin was wondering just how close she'd cut things this time. Normally everything was calculated. But not this. This was just luck. She'd been sloppy.

But the King's sworn enemy was her sworn enemy. She was the Blade, after all.
And my oh my, blades sure cut deep sometimes...

 

[The Good Doctor]

Well.... Troy Pierceson relaxed his weapon stance upon hearing that he wasn't a threat. Truth be told that all he heard was blaster fire and Captain Price's voice soundingly off when he heard it. It's a minor misunderstanding made in the heat of battle, nothing more. With that, he'd simply own up to it as he approached Price with his weapon slug over his shoulder with the barrel facing downwards and then spoke to the Captain. "Apologies. Lt. Pierceson here. Thank you for your timely assistance" he said as he is catching his breath from the battle. Pierceson, started to lean on the left side of the hallway, getting a good look at the outside of Theed. The situation looks like it's returning under control (given for the value of the city having been on fire), but this is far from the end of this. With an attack like this, a war will follow. Some of Pierceson's friends died to due the Alliance's actions, a lot of other brave souls. Most likely civilians as well. They will have to answer for this, it's only a matter of when.

Still, there was a matter of those Alliance goons who made a beeline towards the throne room when the smoke charges were out. Unknown to Pierceson that attempt was foiled already, but they as far as he knows he should make sure that the throne room is clear. He turns to Leandros. "Hey Leandros. Let's make sure that the throne room is clear real quick" Should Leandros go, Pierceson will go as well.

@210yeti

 

[210yeti]

Still remaining in the shadows, Leandros sighed. He hated being called out to like this, it made him feel like the center of attention and siince he was a spy, that was never a good thing. Begrudgingly, He bolstered his two pistols and picked himself off the floor to slowly head down the hall to stay by the Lt.'s side. When he reached Piersecen, he whispered, "I don't like this." He was speaking from his gut but his mind was keeping him from blasting the 'reinforcements' right then and there. He kept behind the Lt. as they walked and always kept his trained eyes on the newcomers with his hands hovering over his pistols.

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

It was the first time Helia was made keenly aware how devastating her fighters' firing upon the wreckage had been. The ground was blackened near the burning wreck and covered in shards of metal, glass and other exploded materials. It wasn't a secured scene, and there was still a risk that any on-board weapon or power line could be cooked to explode if it hadn't already.
Her view from the fighter wasn't great, and she left the cover of her fighter, advancing steadily to wherever cover was provided for a better field of view. She only sparingly glanced down to where she was walking, avoiding shards and shrapnel large enough to impale her foot on, or small enough to crunch loudly underfoot and give away her position.
She wasn't an expert at such dexterous moving, and couldn't help some of the quiet crunching sound of glass, but the effort was there nonetheless.

Her gun was still at the ready, though she could see her breathing and heartrate were causing her aim to shake and sway slightly. It wasn't something she could compensate for, though she tried to slow her breathing without success. Ground combat wasn't for pilots outside their craft.
Training the barrel of the pistol on the smoking wrecks of fighters dragged to the side of the runway, it was becoming clear that whatever made the sound could be anywhere. It might even have been some part of the burning wreckage coming apart.

In the edges of her field of view near the wreck she saw something indistinct drop from the wreckage. Another crash of glass and debris. Its shape as it fell was a blackened lump and through the smell of smoke, soot and burning metal Helia could smell the acrid aroma of burnt meat.

Her gun was levelled at the lump as she broke cover towards it. Moving past where the glass frame of the vessel's cockpit had crumpled and fallen from the wreck's body. Shards of its reinforced glass glinted as she passed them, reminiscent of the night sky where they lay on the damaged and soot-marred floor of the hangar.

Breathing could just barely be heard as she stepped now within physical striking distance of what she now found to be the burnt body of the pilot, face up on the ground. His clothes were burnt dark and one arm tapered to a ragged bloody mess at the elbow where the limb ended. The other looked broken, and she could only imagine a broken arm to be the least of the man's pains.
But he was an enemy, and that meant she couldn't let her barrel drop from the figure. Yet she felt compelled to get this sorry man some aid. She wasn't sure anything in her fighter's first aid kit would cut it for this man's wounds, and likely a quick end would be the most gracious mercy she could afford him.

His jaw tried to open and close but she couldn't make out any words beyond the painful attempt at breathing. He'd probably die in moments if she tried to move him, or even just left him there.

"Who are you?" She demanded, steeling her nerves and making herself known to the eyes of the man's burnt face.
It took only a second to realise that the man was in no position to speak, and that made her pause.
The gun lowered slightly, then her hand dropped to her side.
"Why did you do this?" She muttered, hoping that he'd at least answer her that much.
But she couldn't make out the meaning or the emotion behind those blue dying eyes.

 

[J-Wash]

Something had knocked out one of the headlights, so every tree seemed to rush out of the dark. It kept Sukie so on-edge she barely noticed the king speaking to her, pleading her to stay, making a bid for solidarity.

"That's right, your maj," she said, eyes forward, voice low, "stay with us here, we'll patch you up, yeah? Get you match fit."

Tokarian jabbered on the radio with an update, a businesslike mention that they had the last of the Peak soldiers surrounded in the flaming remains of a transport. Sukie copied and cut the channel. Tokarian didn't need to be told how to mop up. She sighed, rubbing the steering wheel to exercise a little nervous energy and glanced over at Avlin. The Blade of the King was leaning against the window like a bored kid on a long journey, soot and blood spotting her armour.

"Hey, chin up," she said, nudging her, "it could've been worse."

The Relient rose ahead of them, still hovering at tree-height but with the boarding ramp down for the approaching speeders. Sukie muttered thanks to Imy. Her Lieuenants might be cagey and awkward at times, but thank heavens they still did their jobs.

 

[Sangga]

As the speeders were able to board the Relient the King felt that the 'rest' was working. He could sit up with a bit of conscious effort. They stopped within the hangar, and he clicked the door open. Part falling, part stepping he exited the speeder. He slowly turned around with some soft, short steps to face the offworlders in his employ. "Sukie... please listen. You too Alvin." He took each by the arm and used them as props, his signet, and bejewelled fingers grasping their fatigues tightly. "Thank you. I will not be able to say it enough, but I can start." He let go of the Blade's arm and poked his finger into it repeatedly. "You... you get a choice of a Wing, or an estate of your own. That, and you are now Lady Bardok, consider yourself dubbed thus." His hand grabbed the sleeve it had been poking while the other released and begun poking Sukie. "Commander... you, yes. Consider your men official attachments to the Palace guard, your name shall stand in the roll of the RNSF. Settlers rights if your men want them... with the rank comes of course the order of the Tuskcat... we'll sort the ceremony out later." His legs felt like milk jelly, so he straightened up and let go of the pair. "Oh, and of course... a wage increase for yourselves... and the Starborne." He paced forward, he managed five before one ankle buckled and he had to catch himself on some large piece of stowage.

In the Entance hall, Captain Price was receiving some updates from his radioman. "He's safe, they've left..." he dropped the cord, and reached into his uniforms tunic, his eyes caught Leandors' hands, and he slowly revealed his own, clutching a hip flask. "Best Correlian Brandy on Naboo... my father's one of the Guildsmen of Spinnaker..." he shook the half filled flask as he offered it out to the pair in the hall.

With that the Insurgecy attack was halted, and a small blot on the story of Naboo. Who would come out of this war with any semblence of their former selves? Only time would tell.