Liberation of Corellia

AutoFox

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"Tisa, hold on back there!!"
"Shut up and focus!"
Triter gritted his teeth, the knuckles beneath his fur white on the controls as he guided his ship toward the open muzzle of the giant cannon. Sensors were already giving a map of the interior topography, and what he saw made his guts squirm. It was going to be tight inside, barely any room to maneuver; there would be just enough space to turn around and get out.
This is impossible! No way even starfighters could get in and out of this!
For all his skill, Triter was beginning to realize just how over-matched he was by the situation. He was Ossein, he was Jazaq, but there was no way he was up to this.
His hands were trembling on the controls, he realized.
No, not now, not ever!!
The Amaran closed his eyes, and his hands relaxed. Somewhere, he had learned the Jedi code, and though he had never cared for it, he agreed that the Force was not merely a tool, but an ally. With it, he could accomplish what he could never do alone.
Triter had never truly studied the Force, he had no time for it. But somehow, he knew what he had to do. His skill, he knew, was leading people; his mentor, Captain Hasperre, had recognized it in him early on. But Triter could do more than simply lead...
He reached out with the Force, and sought the minds of those in the ships around him...
His eyes snapped open, and he spoke.
"All craft, listen up! We're not going to have much room in there, so here's the plan! We'll fly all the way down into the guts of the cannon, but we're not shooting anything on the way in! Get to the back, turn your ship around, and start your run on the way back out! We don't want to have to deal with extra debris during our escape!"
Several other ships followed Triter's ship into the cannon, one of which was a YG-300 light freighter. It was a brave pilot who would take such a ship into the guts of a Sith dreadnaught, but Triter was confident that their skill matched their ambition. Through the Force, the Amaran poured confidence and unity into the other pilot, and into all the other pilots around him...

The cannon barrel was enormous, but still seemed confining to the ships that roared down its length into the depths of the massive weapon. Triter made note of targets on the way in; focusing field generators, power couplings, the like.
At last, the flight of ships emerged into a relatively open space. Triter blinked, looking around at the huge space, lined with titanic machinery.
It was the beating heart of the ship, and of its massive weapon.
"Tisa! Give me targets here, what looks important?"
Behind him, Triter's Rodian co-pilot scanned her instruments, suckered fingertips dancing over controls. Eventually, she responded.
"There's the main reactor core, but that's shielded! We don't have the firepower to deal with it..." Her head-stalks raised in surprise. "But... the energy converters for the firing assembly aren't! Take those out and this cannon will never fire again!"
Triter grinned ferally.
"Mark 'em! Transmit to all ships, focus firepower on those converters!"
"Aye, Outlaw Leader!"
Triter began to key on his targeting computer, but stopped. At this range, there was no point.
"Attention all ships, hit the energy converter assembly my co-pilot just marked, then thrash void for open space! Hit anything that looks important on the way out!"

[Note: Triter is applying battle meditation to everyone involved in the cannon run.]
 
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Minuteman75

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“Talk about tight.”

Rens grunted, steering the freighter through the tunnel behind Triter. His arms strained at controls to spare his ship the fate of colliding into the surrounding walls. There were moments in life that the young spacer felt invincible and bragged about it but this wasn’t the time. No all he can think about what could happen to Deb, sure he was content with risking his own life but as for her...

Vavik was right force rest his soul. A lover complicate things but I wouldn’t have it any other way!

It was in that moment, he felt a strange wave of confidence flowing through. Suddenly his focus grew stronger than ever, doing a short spin, avoiding a crash into a giant metal pipe. He didn’t realize what was at work but Rens wasn’t complaining right now. Then minutes later he felt a webbed hand on the right shoulder, he didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Nice flying hotshot nearly made me puke back there.”

Deb teased in an complimenting tone. The smuggler spare a moment glance toward Deb, dressed in her purplish street jacket and pants and smiled.

“Admit it ya love the whole thing.”

Rens said cheekily, which Deb rolled her eyes in amusement before sitting down the coploit sit. Not a moment too soon when they saw the target before then with the rest of the flight. The Mon Cala whistled, clearly impressed with the innner workings of the canon. Then Triter called in from the squadron’s channel, telling them all to hit the energy converter assembly. Marked on the targeting computer, Rens without hesition, squeezed down the trigger, firing torpedos at the one of the converters along with the rest of the strike force. The target exploded, and Rens swiftly reversed course, and sped away back from where he came.

It wasn’t long the Phoniex flew out of the hole, thrusters still going strong. Upon exit Rens Ahim let out a mighty cheer, the proudest moment of his young life and directed toward Coreilla. Without warning he felt himself grabbed and embraced by Deb who said in an quivering voice.

“We did it! I can’t believe it we did it!”

“Ya better believe it sweetheart.”

With a smile Rens broke from the embrace and kissed Deb full on the lips.
 
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Insalius

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As the ship plummeted towards the surface of the moon, the final blows that sealed its destruction came at nearly the same moment. Outlaw Squadron's destruction of the charging coils had a surprising effect on the power grid of the ship, lowering the shields for all places except around the reactor core. This meant that when the missiles destroyed the arms the explosion had the greatest possible force at the back of the ship. This concussive blast traveled through the hull and displaced the shield generators for the reactor core, dropping its shields just as Red Squadron made their into the area. In more of a reaction than rational thought Red Leader fired his proton torpedos at the vulnerable reactor casing. As all the fighters turned around to fly out of the cannon's barrel, the Hypermatter Reactor collapsed in upon itself just as the ship hit the surface of the planet.

The explosion was immense, even greater than when the Legion Buster had fired the first time at the Mandalorian fleet. The wave of pure energy seemed to try to catch up with Outlaw and Red Squadrons, also nipping at the back of the Jedi Starfighter that had taken out the arms of the ship. Just as it seemed that the heroes of the day would perish along with their enemy the wave slowed down, its energy spent as it burned at the back of the fleeing pilots. Behind them was a huge crater in the surface of the moon, the only remaining evidence that the dreadnought had even existed. The hull had been completely vaporized by the Hypermatter Reactor's collapse and destruction, a testament to the power of such a device. All other Imperial ships had been destroyed, not a one had surrendered. The Battle for Corellia was over, the victor being the Mandalorians and the Republic. Every second had been recorded, the details shown across the galaxy. Everyone knew that the Empire had died that day and everyone would also know who had taken part in the fight and had been the true heroes. It would be up to them to pick up the pieces of a shattered galaxy and right them, hopefully having learned from the mistakes of the past.

((Ship dead, Empire dead, feel free to celebrate/have awesome victory speech))

@Valen Pelora @Arclight @AutoFox @Minuteman75 @Sreeya @Darasuum
 

AutoFox

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"Fire! Fire everything!!"
The little pinnace's five blaster cannons spat a stream of fire at the energy converters, joining a sheet of fire coming from the other ships in the motley band as they made their runs. Several torpedoes were loosed, and Triter watched as giant electrical arcs danced over the machinery that composed the cannon's firing assembly.
"Energy converters no longer reading! We did it! We karking did it!!"
"Alright, that's enough! Get back to the surface, full throttle!!"
As it had taken the lead going in, Triter's ship took up the rear of the formation going out. Around the squadron, massive external explosions rocked the ship, shaking loose chunks of debris and requiring several ships to perform hair-raising dodges in the confined space of the barrel, but what Triter was broadcasting through the Force seemed to be holding, and there were no collisions. Triter himself shook his head, trying to concentrate on the battle meditation and flying his ship at the same time; it was very difficult, and it was beginning to sap his energy.
"Oh kriff, speed up, SPEED UP!!"
Triter glanced behind him through the cockpit canopy, and his eyes widened. Racing through the barrel of the ruined cannon was a wall of fire; Triter pushed the throttle against its stops, willing his tiny ship to go faster...

Outlaw Squadron erupted from the muzzle of the cannon like shrapnel from an old slug-gun, their engines flaring to keep ahead of the spreading blast wave as they raced away from the erupting dreadnaught's death throes. Triter Zonne cursed as the energy scorched the rear of his ship's twin gleaming chromium hulls, but then the blast wave subsided, and the squadron was clear.
They had made it. He had made it. They had beaten the Empire's last great fleet...
Suddenly bone weary, Triter sagged into his pilot seat, letting out a long sigh. Idly, he looked over at the other ships flying nearby; he set the auto-pilot to take them into orbit above Corellia, and from there, likely to some cantina that had survived the fighting on the surface. Watching the other ships, he noticed the cockpit of the freighter he had noted earlier, and there were now two figures in the cockpit instead of one. The ship was too far away to tell for sure what they were doing, but Triter couldn't help but grin.
The grin grew, and the Amaran felt a bit of energy return to him as he thought back on what had just been accomplished.
"By the Whills and all the minions of Xendor, we're alive!"
"I'll say we are. Now shut up."
Raising his eyebrows, Triter reached down for his seat controls, swiveling it around to face the short connecting corridor between his cockpit and Tisa's.
"Um-"
The Amaran pirate was abruptly hit in the face with a balled-up flight suit. Blinking, he moved it and looked down at it, then up toward his co-pilot.
His eyes widened a bit.
"Oh."
Wordlessly, he unbuckled his crash harness, rose, and made his way into the connecting passage, reaching up for the zipper on his own flight suit as he went.
He was definitely alive.


(End for Triter. Great thread, everybody! A proper sendoff indeed.)
 

Valen Pelora

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The Empire ended much as it had started, quickly and with a bang. The Dreadnaught was the apex of Imperial power. It had been a testament to what the unending cruelty of the Empire could accomplish. A massive weapon designed only to bring terror to the galaxy. The ship’s destruction was the death knell of the Empire. As the Dreadnaught cracked and died, so did Emperor Malon. The twin heartbeats of Imperial power perished. Malon had been the symbol of Darkness binding the Empire together, the Dreadnaught the undeniable military prowess. With the Dreadnaught wrought low the remnants of the Imperial fleet retreated.

The last of the Legion had been defeated. Down below, the taped together pieces of the Republic had won their victory as well. There would be no rousing speeches, no joyous celebration. The toll of freedom was inexorably high. The sky was filled with death and there was still a terribly long way to go. The Empire was dead, but the Republic had not yet been rebirthed. The peoples of the galaxy faced the prospect of returning peace and prosperity to replace the austerity of the Empire.
 
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