Re'turcye Mhi, Manda'yaim

[Vencu]

(OOC: THIS THREAD IS FOR THE EVACUATION OF MANDALORE. IT IS OPEN TO ALL MANDALORIANS AND KUSHARI)

In less than two hours, all the schematics and research data that MandalMotors had accumulated over the decades had been successfully transferred to a small data card and that card was now being placed within a small, protective case no bigger than a typical slugthrower magazine. Coro secured the four locking mechanisms on the small case before slipping it into a pouch at his side and retrieving his helmet from where it sat on top of the nearest console. Typing a short numeric sequence into the nearest keypad, he activated the program that would wipe the database clean, leaving nothing behind. As Coro clipped the helmet to his utility belt, he passed through the exit, two other Mandalorians leaving their posts on either side of the doorway to join him.

"It's done." Coro spoke into his helmet comlink after opening an encrypted channel, "I have everything."

"Ori'jate." A voice replied a moment later, "Now that that's taken care of, I need you to focus on coordinating MandalMotors' part in this evacuation. Whatever ships you can spare, ori'vod... If they aren't carrying machinery or supplies, fill them with Mando'ade. We need everyone off this rock as soon as possible. You have the rendezvous coordinates, 'lek?"

"Yes, I do." Coro responded within the privacy of his helmet, leaving the building far behind as he made his way toward Keldabe's starport, "And don't worry about our part. I've already sent orders to all our pilots. If we've got any space at all, we'll use it. I've ordered every empty freighter we have to pick up passengers from the more remote settlements along with whatever resources we can gather. The troop carriers assigned to the major cities should be able to handle the majority of the population."

"No one gets left behind, ori'vod."

"No one will. You have my word."

 

[Loco]

Akil deposited the last cases of ammunition in an open storage compartment on the “Dawn Skimmer”. The sleek ship had served the last several years as his transport for official duties in which riding in on a Mythosaur battle cruiser would be inappropriate. Now it would fill a far more important role- delivering his child to safety.

“Alimah! Tsikador Me'sen!” “Alimah! Run the preflight checks!” He shouted. His wife darted up the ramp and disappeared into the ships cockpit, carrying her rifle. Aeden was busy securing the loose boxes of supplies with cargo netting. They were all armored- Akil wearing the shining armor that marked him as an Ambassador of his people. Alimah was simlarly armored, as befit his wife (of course, she looked a lot better in it than he did, as always), and even Aeden now wore a protective enviro suit and small boots. Akil turned way from his ship and went inside, passing Orun as he carried supplies to the patrol ship Damri and the twins had been making use of on their border missions. Akil clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. Inside, Damri and Arya were hunched over a large pack plastic explosives, sticking blasting caps into the soft blocks.

“Tion'jor, Dam? You know the plan.”

Damri rose and stretched his back. “'Lek. I don't want to take a chance that anything might remain. Our ancestors memorials should have a proper pyre.” His older brothers voice trailed off. Akil understood, even if it was an unnecessary use of their supply of explosives.

“Tion'gaa'taylir, ori'vod?””Need help, big brother?” Akil asked quietly as Arya took the pile of blocks and began placing them in preselected location throughout the room. Alimah entered the room and came up behind him, the pre flight checks complete. Aeden trailed behind her.

“Nayc.” Damri replied finally with a heavy sigh. Akil went to Damris side, and took his brother into a deep embrace. Alimah joined them, and the three gently touched helmets. “Ret'urcye mhi, ner aliit.” “We'll meet again, my family.” “Ret'urcye mhi, ner ori'vod.”"We'll meet again, my brother." The three broke from each other, and Akil and Alimah moved to repeat the ritual with Orun and Arya.

---------------------------------------

Damri was glad his helmet was on, as his his moisture dampeners kicked in. He would miss this place- the sunrises most of all... Aeden stood idly by while the adults exchanged their embraces. Damri knelt before him, bringing them eye to visor. “Verd'ika...” Damri drew one of his beskad. They were little more than large knives for him, but it was easily the size of a small short sword for the five year old. He placed the weapon in Aedens hands, wrapping his little fists around the hilt. “Akaanir ori'jate. Tayli'bac? ” “Fight excellently. Understand?” The young boy nodded seriously, the look almost comical on such a young face. Damri put his arms around the child, then stood.

“Ner vod olorar jii.” “My brothers are coming now” Alimah said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

This was good. Damri liked the Ordo clan Alimah came from- they were “Jate Adate”. Her brothers were strong and skilled, and would be a great help in the coming days. The Atin'al family walked outside together, then began to split towards their respective ships. Akil and Damri turned to look at each other. They both nodded, and then Akil swept up the ramp after his family. The “Dawn Skimmer” rose easily into the sky, and within minutes was beyond their sight. Damri took a deep breath as he watched his brother and his family disappear into the distance. For a few moments, nobody said anything.

“Tsikador.”

And with that, the spell was broken, and the three remaining Atin'als went to work. Orun began to run the preflight checks on their modified patrol ship, and Arya set the timers on the plastic explosives inside. Damri began activating the ships modest communications suite. They would have to link up with a larger ship to coordinate the rest of the days work. So much to do... Arya sprinted up the wide embarkation ramp, “Tsikala!”

Orun lifted off steadily, and set a course for the fleet in orbit above the planet. The sky bustled with transports, corvettes, and cruisers, picking up loads of liquid assets and people. Fighters tore through the sky, the giant cruisers coordinating the traffic with their superior sensor and communication suites. Many of the destroyers and heavy fighting ships sat ready in a defensive posture around Manda'yaim, all but anticipating Sith treachery. Damri couldn't help but orient a screen back towards their home. With their course set, the twins joined him. Together they watched- at first, the scene looked unnaturally serene... and then a muffled explosion, a rising cloud of dust, and what seemed to be an entire side of the mountain caved in on itself. The explosions were all inside, there was no blossom of fire. Anti-climatic, really. And so the Atin'als were homeless.

No, not homeless, Damri thought. Nomadic, and stronger for it.

 

[Jiang Winters]

"I still can't believe we're helpin' the Mandos evac their homeworld. This is insane - didn't we just sign an alliance with them a few days ago?"

The voice belonged to a Kushari engineer. Clad in Templar armor and hunched over a duffle bag of SC40 demolition charges. 150 pounds of explosives; other Marines carried everything from portable plasma torches to toolsets to cutting charges and limpet mines. They weren't a salvage team by any means - they were a demolition team. Despite being engineers, they still carried a full combat load. M977 rocket launchers, M5 automatic grenade launchers, M34 carbines and M7 shotguns; the men were kitted for a fight if it came to it.

They, and dozens of other teams like them, had been tasked with assisting with the salvaging and demolition of strategic assets across Mandalore. Assisting them was a small army of 65 meter long Scarab salvage boats, on loan from Targus MFG's shipbreaking yards.

They hailed from a Kushari fleet hanging in high orbit over Mandalore; dozens of merchant vessels and light warships descended on the planet to aid in the evacuation. They would touch down at every major starport on the planet, to take on whatever passengers the Mandalorian transports could not.

The entire task force was under the authority of a Ranger. Lieutenant Rook, 074. Though her rank was low, her position as a Ranger gave her authority over virtually every Kushari service member, which allowed her to command such expeditions.

She'd chosen to ride to the MandalMotors plant at Keldabe, along with several groups of Combat Engineers. They rode in aboard AD44 Thunderbird assault dropships, which were loaded to the gills with demolitions, load-lifting exoskeletons, and combat engineering vehicles.

The plan was simple: Tear up every last piece of equipment from the plant and re-install it wherever the Mandos needed it. What they couldn't cut free they'd annihilate with demolition charges. The other engineering companies would touch down at other plants and mines across Mandalore; if a location held something of value, Kushari boots would be on the ground before the day was out. If all went according to plan, then every last soldier would be off Mandalore by sunrise.

Rook glanced down the aisles of Marines in her AD44. 20 men in total, and several pieces of heavy machinery and transport vehicles. They were busy preparing their gear to disembark. The moment they were groundside, they'd get to work. "Remember Marines," she barked, "This isn't permanent. The Mandalorians. Our Kadir. They aren't abandoning Mandalore - this is a temporary withdrawal. We'll be back some day, and we'll make the Deskar'oth pay dearly for making our brothers in arms abandon their homes. Treat the land and its people with respect. Do your duty and do it well. We've got a day at most to get this shit done, so you don't eat, you don't sleep, you don't take a piss until your work is finished. Scorched earth, gentlemen - if it's useful, rip it up or raze it to the ground."

A chorus of "Aye-aye, ma'am" rose from the two squads.

Not twenty seconds later, the Thunderbird hit duracrete just outside of the Mandalmotors plant. The rear cargo ramps dropped and two M49-E1 'Rhino' engineering tanks came lumbering out. A variant of the M49 'Natal' Command Tank, the Rhino sacrificed its turret and internal command room for a boxy turret packing both a crane and a excavator arm. A dozer blade was mounted to the front of the rig, and a 3-blade scorer fixed to the back to tear up roads. Its command room was replaced by a small automated fabrication plant, capable of manufacturing a wide variety of parts so long as it was supplied with raw material.

The engineers followed, as did Rook. The lieutenant activated her helmet's comm system and switched it over to the Mando battlenet. "Lieutenant Rook here. Kushari engineers are groundside and preparing to commence salvage and demolition operations. Transports are standing by to take on any passengers in need of a lift. If any Mandalorian unit needs assistance with the evac, give us a shout and we'll send a detachment your way."

 

[Count Sam]

It seemed that the damned sith had finally did it and made their dirty move against the Mandalorians. Of course it was not like Akela did not expect that, but well it was really a thing that saddened Akela. It was indeed a shame that they were going to leave there home after all this time but well sometimes things like that were necessary for a certain time only and then things went back to normal. Yeah, it was only a matter of time before the Mandalorians came back and took what was rightfully theirs from the sith.

Akela quickly brushed all thoughts from his mind as he landed his fighter on the Keldab spaceport; waiting for him was a private who quickly escorted Akela to where Damri was. Of course this was done pretty fast since after all the Mandalorians did not have time to spare. It was only a matter of time before the sith attacked them so they had to make use of every moment they had left.

"Sergeant Akela Parjir reporting for duty sir!!" Akela spoke as he gave Damri a soldier's salute, and as he waited for him to give him further information on what he was going to do.

(Sorry for the short post, I had another post but I lost it and I am currently too tired to right another long post)

 

[Brand]

Bitterness.

Rage.

Spite.

Jericho's subconscious was bombared by what could only be described as heated emotions as he stood in his bedroom, making short trips to pack up his small closet of gear. The sound of his wife clearing out the medicine cabinet from the adjacent bathroom was barely audible, but both prepared to move efficiently and quickly. The orders had come down from the hierarchy with an urgency and sternness that demanded no hesitation from the Mandalorians, no matter how much the honor-bound warriors wished to resist.

If there had ever been a threshold of time to defy Mandalore and the oath of fealty he'd sworn, the Ruus'alor had almost crossed it. Meeting with his squad of dedicated troops, though, and his platoon commanding officer had snapped him back to reality as he assisted in the logistics of the move. They didn't have much time, and he'd dismissed the troops with orders from the ranking officials to pack up only their most valuable items, and be prepped for departure at any moment. No solid evacuation plans had been passed down the chain of command as of yet, but Jericho would stand ready to accept and relay them.

"Daddy!" The sharp cry of his daughter brought him out of his thoughts, and he scooped her easily into his arms.

"Have you finished packing your things, verd'ika?" he asked, an unnaturally kind note in his voice.

"Yes, just like you told me to!"

Jericho smiled broadly at her as her face beamed, his kin's eyes locking. Those hazel orbs seemed to bury themselves into the core of his being, and as his wife stepped into the doorframe to survey the two Jericho knew this was the reason why they needed to leave.

They were also the reason the Mandalorians would return.

The homeland was not to be handed over lightly, with retreat normally not an option available to the fiercely militant culture. Jericho understood the situation even if he hated the circumstances that had led them there. Loyalty, honor, pride, the warriors traits that all men of his race hold dearly, did not equate to suicide. The Empire would crush them at this moment; though Jericho was confident the Mandalorians would put up a valiant fight to the last it was not the time. In his bones, though, Jericho could feel that the moment was fast approaching. It may not be for weeks, months, even years, but this Sergeant would live to see their so called conquerors, the subjugaters of the Mandalorian people, put to their graves in the most violent way possible.

It was for the entirety of his Mandalorian brethren, his vod, and for his family that he would garner the courage of his convictions to bide his time.

The rewards would prove much sweeter.

 

[Vencu]

Coro stopped short of the crowded entrance to the starport, waving for a MandalMotors pilot he spotted nearby to follow him. Glancing back toward the entrance for a moment, he nodded in satisfaction, pleased with the organized ranks the Mandalorians had formed to enter the starport and board each of the troop carriers. He knew aruetiise would have been running around frantically, pushing and shoving to save themselves.

The pilot finally recognized Coro and he jolted forward quickly to comply.

"Everything is going well, I presume?" Coro questioned, finally turning his attention away from the entrance and focusing on the pilot standing before him.

"Elek... every major starport in the sector is just as organized as Keldabe. We've set the standard for the others, but it isn't like they really needed us to tell them how to do it properly." The pilot replied with a nod of his head, "We'll be done ahead of schedule at this rate and that's taking the smaller settlements into consideration, too. I've already finished two trips to the rendezvous point. The random jumps are what take time. Loading up is a breeze."

"That's good to hear." Coro said, relieved that the evacuations elsewhere were going so smoothly, "Carry on, then. I don't want to hold you up. There's still much to do."

 

[Jiang Winters]

"Lieutenant Rook, this is Fleet. Game has changed; expedite your operations and return to fleet ASAP. How copy?"

The transmission came down the line just as Rook was setting foot inside the MandalMotors plant. The Rhinos were already inside, with a detachment of Marines hard at work cutting loose the important bits - dies and stamps from metal presses, forms for the forges, anything used in the manufacture of Mandalorian weapons, armor, or vehicles was to be taken or destroyed.

She touched a finger to her helmet's 'temple', at the back of the visor, to key her comms. "Rook to Fleet. I read you. Define 'expedite operations', will you?"

"Think Sarui Uprising, Lieutenant."

"Sarui Uprising? I understand. We'll hurry it up down here, fleet. Keep the drink cold and the food warm - we'll be back soon."

She switched frequencies to those used by the engineers currently at work across Mandalore. "Game has changed, Marines. Expedite operations. Sarui protocol." The simple order commanded the Marines to abandon operations and take what could be carried or cut loose in under a minute - the protocol was named for an infamous uprising on the Kushari colony of Damaros, wherein the defenders of an isolated garrison had only a minute to tear up defensive guns and other fixtures and evacuate from an onslaught of rebels and pirates. The order, at its simplest, meant 'hurry the hell up'. Unnecessary formalities were dropped, redundant safety procedures abandoned, safeguards ignored; it was speed, pure and simple.

The Marines took their orders to heart, stowing their demolition charges and breaking out their plasma cutters and omniwrenches. Within minutes, the trailers of the M839 'Puma's' were loaded down with dies, presses, foundry components, milling machines; if it could be cut free and chucked onto a trailer, the Marines did just that. A dropship was maneuvered into an enclosed assembly bay in the plant, so that equipment could be quickly and easily loaded. Once it was full, it zipped off and another took its place.

Raw materials were loaded up as well. Partly-completed devices and components were loaded into the ships; the plant's warehouses and stockrooms would be swept clean. One overzealous engineer even took the kitchen sink from the employee cafeteria!

The work'd be done in short order. Kushari were tremendously strong, and the gravity was light for them; the labor was easy, and they were well-trained. Once the plant was stripped of everything easily removed, they'd return to the Fleet. The other engineering crews, those working on mass transit systems, power generation plants, and other important infrastructure, would return after carrying out their orders. They'd loiter at the fleet until given new orders, or until the time came to jump out of the system.

 

[Loco]

Damri listened intently as reports of the Sith observer ships and orders to cease "scorched Earth" operations began to trickle down the line. A fierce scowl twisted his lips as the voice repeated the order.

"Hut'uun!" He spat, standing up slowly from his chair, anger building. It was bad enough they were being forced to evacuate. This was their home. But now they had to do it with a frakking smile, waving goodbye at the Sith ships who invaded them. Damris thoughts turned to his nephew- what beslubbering example were they setting for their children? This evacuation was slowly shifting from strategic fall back to cowardly retreat, and Damri hated it. The stout Chev punched the aluminum alloy of the cockpit wall hard enough to dent it, causing his brother and sister both to jump in their seats. Emotional displays of this sort were rare...

"Laandur! Shabuir! Hut'uun!" He shouted at no one in particular, stomping his heavy booted foot for emphasis. His ship was loaded with explosives and torpedoes that were temporarily worthless. He paced back and forth in their small living area/cargo bay, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. This was ridiculous! He kicked a small crate of what were likely grenades, sending it skittering across the floor. His fists tightened and unfurled, tightened and unfurled, tightened and unfurled, his eyes searching for something new to relieve his frustrations on... Aryas hands took him by the shoulders from behind. Her helmeted head rested against the back of his helmet.

"Udesiir, ori'vod... Mhi akaanir tug'yc."
"Find respite, brother... We'll fight again."

Damri bristled at first. I don't want to calm down! His shoulders tensed, and he fought back the urge to lash out further... But Arya stayed with him, and after a few moments Orun joined them, putting his hand on Damris shoulder. He didn't have to say anything. The twins had an uncanny ability to say what the other was thinking. Most times, one would speak for both of them. Damri took a deep, calming breath. These two, at least, were relying on them. He was no longer just their brother- with his fathers death, he was their Alor. The Atin'al Clan was his responsibility now. His anger slowly began to ebb. He began feeling guilty for the outburst...

"Find out where the Ordo kids are..." Damri Pulled away from the twins, and they looked expectantly at him- it was time for a new plan. "Head for Keldabe, we'll put down at the Mandal Motors headquarters and aid in the evacuation of their stuff. Hell, I've invested enough the past decade to deserve a few handouts. The Ordos have a bigger ship we can transfer into. We'll get out of the system after that."

The twins nodded in unison, and headed back to the cockpit. Damri stayed back, glaring at the crate he'd kicked. His anger wasn't gone, it had just shifted inward. He was mad at himself for such a petty display. He went to work securing the crate he'd kicked- it was indeed full of explosives, a foolish move- and rearranging the contents of the craft to maximize free space.

"ETA to Keldabe, solus-rayshe'a mikes." Orun shouted from the helm in a curious mix of Basic and Mando'a military slang.

Damri took a seat, resting his head in his palms. He was working out a plan in his mind, but he couldn't help but wonder how his brother was doing. They had been headed for Obroa-Skai, the site of the other major evacuation...

"Su...uy...... Atin'als?" The comms crackled. Damri rose swiftly and made his way to the cockpit. "Pi.c...f.. osik..." the voice came through staticy and garbled. Orun messed with the tuner.. "Damri?... Arya? Orun? Any beslubbering Atin'als? Damn transceiver- Kauti osik..." Damri keyed the transmitter button.

"Kaleb Ordo? Do you read me? It's Damri, over." Damri let go of the transmitter, and the cockpit was quiet for several beats.

"'Lek. Su cuy, Damri! Alimah said you may need help. Tion'vaii slanaar? Over."

Damri smiled. His sisters brothers of a small sect of clan Ordo were excellent people. Good fighters, and he loved them like his own brothers. The feeling was mutual. "Keldabe. We're setting down at Mandalmotors HQ to assist evacuation efforts. Tion'me'sen gar? Over."

"'Elek... We'll be there in ad'eta. Ret'urcye mhi, vod. Out."

"Approaching now, Dam." Orun said calmly as he piloted the small ship down through a lair of clouds. As they broke through, the expanse of Keldabe stretched before them, dominated by the MandalMotors tower. Damri could see through the plastisteel canopy the rush of activity surrounding the location.

"Mandal Tower control, this is Damri Atin'al. We've got half a dropship of free space, and another transport on the way. Where do you want us? Over."

 

[Vencu]

"This is Tower Control. We've got machine parts and supply crates stacked just outside the main entrance, Atin'al." A rough voice answered almost immediatly, "A freighter lifted off a moment ago. Your dropships are clear to land and take its place, but make it quick, vod. I've got three more shuttles to fill after you're done and then we'll be finished here."

 

[Loco]

"Roger. Atin'al out." Damri flipped the switch to end the transmission. "Set her down where that freighter just took off from." He told Orun as he and Arya headed to the back of the ship, ready to drop the ramp even as the ship hovered above the ground. The landing skids met the tarmac with a deep, resounding thud, followed immediately by the metallic clang of the ramp. Damri and Arya practically leaped down. The site was full of Mando'ade and giant cat people, making steady trips back and forth from the variety of transport ships. A ground site coordinator directed them to a pile of consumables that needed loading, and they set to work....

Scarcely two trips later, a larger ship settled in next to them. The markings along the hull were unmistakeable. Ordo Clan. Seconds later their own loading ramp descended, spilling out a small crowd of his heavily armored kin. Loading be damned, the two groups converged for a round of hugs.

"Su cuy'gar Kalab!"

"Su cuy'gar, Damri!"

Kaleb was the eldest of the Ordo brothers related to Alimah. He was tall, standing more than a full foot higher than Damri, and intimidating in his heavy, darkly painted armor and short cape emblazoned with his clan sigil. The two separated. Kaleb and his younger brother Fox were followed by several others that Damri didn't recognize. The elder Ordo saw the lack of recognition in the way Damris visor wavered across their faces.

"We'll do introductions later, vod. Let's get these beasts loaded up and get back in the air."

Damri nodded, and the two groups split again. The Ordo ship was large enough to merit a forklift to load pallets of supplies, and Damri and the Twins quickly loaded the remaining crates from their assigned stack before re-mounting their ship. Damri slipped into the pilots seat himself, and lit the directional liftoff thrusters. "Mandal Tower control, this is Damri Atin'al. We are preparing to clear this bay. Over."

 

[Vencu]

"This is Tower Control, be advised, I just recieved an encrypted transmission and I've been directed to relay the live feed to an Al'verde Atin'al. Is it safe to assume that's you, vod? The code that came along with it reads as priority. Should I go ahead and patch it through to your ship?"

 

[Loco]

Damri reached across the control panel and punched in the command to activate his ships surprisingly complex encryption suite. The modified prowler dropship had been built to run lonesome border patrol missions, and that included receiving encrypted commands on its own. The brief garbled tone of electronic static announced a successful activation.

"Go ahead tower control, send it."

He answered, keeping one eye on the communications control board and another on the helm controls as he weaved his way out of Keldabe and headed for orbit. It had been decided the Atin'als would link with the Ordos in orbit before beginning their series of random jumps to the rally point with the Kushari fleet. Orun and Arya were both looking at Damri quizically. He shrugged his shoulders.

 

[Vencu]

"Atin'al, it's Vencu. I have a new task for you, ori'vod." A more familiar voice stated over the encrypted channel, "We've got the coordinates to guide ships through the nebulae to Roon and the Kushari have one of their pilots spearheading the reconnaissance operations there. I need you to gather what warships and supplies you can and meet up with him at the rally point nearby, just outside the Cloak. I'm relying on you to coordinate the security operations at that rally point, at the start points to both routes into the nebulae, and in orbit around Roon itself. It's crucial that this space be kept secure for the arrival of the landing teams and the fleet of transports that will follow."

 

[Brand]

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Jericho's heavy brow furrowed at his wife's words. "I know this is, hectic, honey, but I've made a pledge to my men and I'm not going to break it because the circumstances are hectic. We're take the military transport out with the rest of the platoon and their families or we're not leaving at all."

Jericho knew his wife to be a... strong willed woman, to put it quite kindly, but he needed her consent during these troubled times. Making a last check on the items that they'd placed on the skiff, he nodded to the pilot, hauled his two daughters into the back and helped his wife into the seat next to him.

The small transport took off, skimming over the grassy lands. In the sky loomed the so-called diplomatic observer, an eerily belligerent reminder that the Mandalorians were being forced out of their lands by threat of total conquest. Jericho was determined to accept this unfortunate change of events, though, and ensure his family and men's safety above all else.

"Sir, we're approaching the vessel," shouted the Lance Corporal manning the controls of the speeder over the din of its noisy engine.

Jericho gave only a wave of his hand in response as they moved closer to the ship that would take them away from Mandalore for what seemed like forever. His house, what he had worked so long to achieve, had shrunken into the background of the hot Mandalore day, and Jericho vowed in his heart of hearts that one day the Mandalorians would return victorious to claim the homeland.

The skiff came to an abrupt halt, and Jericho hopped down, helping his family out before loading their luggage into the cargo hold of the large transport ship. Fierce double-mounted laser cannons bristled off numerous hardpoints on the vessel, still nothing capable of even causing the Imperials to bat an eyelash should they attempt a suicide run. Technologically but most importantly in numbers were they outmatched, and instead the Mandalorians had to run tail between their legs.

"Jer, it's good to see you, vode," came a warm voice from behind the Sergeant. Turning on his heel Jericho saw his platoon commander fast approaching.

"Lieutenant, it's good to see you, sir. Just getting loaded up."

"And not a minute too soon, Sarge. We're scheduled to leave after muster at 1400 sharp."

Jericho nodded. "I'll form the unit up before then and we'll hit the road... or spacelane."

The Lieutenant smiled and the two men clasped hands before parting ways. Ushering troops up the boarding ramp, Jericho gazed out once more at the picturesque summer day.

"We'll be back," he whispered vengefully to himself.

--

"Sir, we've cleared the atmosphere. Plot a course to the Kushari fleet?"

"Kindly, Petty Officer," replied the Lieutenant, pacing the bridge of the vessel itself. "Sergeant, get on the comms with Fleet Command and inform them they've got latecomers to the party."

"Aye aye, sir." Jericho stood from his chair off to the side of the cockpit, striding over to the communication relay terminal.

"Kushari Fleet Command, this is Sergeant Jericho, Platoon Echo XO, Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion of the troop transport Dawntreader requesting permission to fall into formation with the fleet to vector to the rendezvous point with you boys. We're carrying 116 passengers with weapons charged down. Submitting clearance codes... now."

 

[Vencu]

"Dawntreader, this is the Kay-Es-Vee Starskipper on station within the Mandalore System. The command vessel is under strict long range communications silence." A thickly accented voice stated, likely that of a Kushari, "All departing vessels are directed to plot several random jumps before traveling directly to the first rally point. With your permission, I can remotely slave your nav computer to the Starskipper and send you on your way. How copy, over?"

 

[Loco]

"Atin'al, it's Vencu. I have a new task for you, ori'vod." A more familiar voice stated over the encrypted channel, "We've got the coordinates to guide ships through the nebulae to Roon and the Kushari have one of their pilots spearheading the reconnaissance operations there. I need you to gather what warships and supplies you can and meet up with him at the rally point nearby, just outside the Cloak. I'm relying on you to coordinate the security operations at that rally point, at the start points to both routes into the nebulae, and in orbit around Roon itself. It's crucial that this space be kept secure for the arrival of the landing teams and the fleet of transports that will follow."

Damri listened intently to transmission. He peered back into his smallish cargo bay, visible from the cockpit. Without a doubt, they would have to swap or board a larger ship. This was no command vessel. Realistically, there was little future planning outside of escaping the advancing Sith before things devolved into a fighting withdraw- as much as a part of him would enjoy that. No reason not to. Damri keyed the transmitter.

"Roger that Vencu. I'll see what I can dredge up here and then head over. Send me the rally point coordinates...It's good to see someone's been thinking ahead. Over."

Damri spun in his chair to face the Twins. He was in charge here, as boht clan leader and the more experienced warrior, but their opinions were still important. "Any objections?" The twins replied by shaking their heads in unison. Damri nodded, and returned to his controls.

"Kaleb, Damri, come in. Over." Damri started on an alternate channel.

"Kaleb here. Go ahead"

"Meet me at coordinates..." Damri checked his navigation panel and spouted of a set of nearby coordinates just above the atmospheric plane, "Tsikador to cross load. We've got new orders I'd like you to lend me a hand with, ori'vod." There was a pause as the Ordos mapped the grid location.

"Lek, vod. Mhi shekemir. Heads up, we picked up a few stragglers planet side. They're with us for now." "Roger, brother. We'll follow you."

"Vor'entye, Kaleb. I'm standing by for coordinates. I'll have them by the time we link up. In the meantime, use your comm suites to hail any nearby warships. Tell them Al'verde Atin'al needs volunteers that aren't over burdedned with civilians or vital supplies., and have them stand by for further orders."

"Roger that, Atin'al. Ordo out."


With that, Damri flicked off the extraneous channel, and turned his attention back toward the encrypted frequency he'd been patched to through Tower Control...

 

[Vencu]

"I've just sent the coordinates in an encrypted audio stream. It's in dadita." The voice continued without pause, though the bustle of activity and the occassional word or two in Mando'a could be heard in the background, "Make sure you have plenty of firepower, ori'vod. You and I both know how important this place is... MandalMotors can provide quite a few of their newly christened prototypes, crew and all. Gather as many as you can and get out there as soon as possible. Our Kushari contact is low on oxygen. He's been in that kriffing cockpit for over sixteen standard hours now. I'll contact you again soon. Vencu, out."

 

[Jiang Winters]

And it was done.

Lieutenant Rook and her engineers returned to their dropships and took to the skies once more. The Kushari salvage vessels and Thunderbird dropships brought thousands of tons of salvage back to the fleet, all of it slung underneath Scarab-class salvage boats or hauled in the belly of Thunderbird dropships. Several engineering vehicles had been abandoned to make room for the more valuable equipment - manufacturing materials were more valuable than unarmed recon vehicles or trailers, so when push came to shove the worthless gear stayed behind.

The engineering vessels and dropships filed into the orbiting Kushari fleet in rapid succession. There was no time for neat, orderly landings or to make sure units stuck together - they were ordered to perform combat landings, and so every craft wedged itself in wherever there was a bit of room. The only craft to return to a specific destination was Rook's Thunderbird, which touched down aboard the KSV Red Dawn, a K'sha'to heavy cruiser.

Once the last of the engineering vessels were aboard, the bulk of the Kushari fleet spooled up their engines and jumped out, beginning the first of what would be many blind hyperspace jumps. They'd arrive at the rendezvous point once any pursuit was dislodged. The Red Dawn stayed behind, in the unlikely event that the Starskipper or any Mandalorian vessels suffered a navigational failure or engine failure and needed the Red Dawn to serve as a hyperspace tug.

It was chosen for the duty partly because it carried a full fighter and bomber complement, along with a pair of B18 'Saber' strategic bombers loaded to the seams with heavy ordinance, and because it had been fitted with the recently-developed Twin Barrier system - the Kushari version of ray and particle shield generators. That loadout, coupled with her twin primary and twin secondary hyperspace drives, made her one of the fastest, most heavily armed and armored warships in the Kushari fleet. More importantly, her captain and Lieutenant Rook both agreed that the Red Dawn would be the last Federation vessel to leave the star system - they would play rear guard for the bulk of the Kushari forces, and would accompany out the last of the Mandalorians to make sure that all units made it to the RV point in one piece.

 

[Vencu]

Coro had been on the move constantly, eating on the go and resting for only a hour or so at a time. After seeing off the last few freighters and troop carriers that remained on Manda'yaim, he had dived into his final task, which was coordinating the retrieval of a small fleet of MandalMotors prototypes that had only just been completed in the last few months before the Sith ultimatum had been given. An army of MandalMotors engineers had rushed to prepare the vessels for active service day and night, fine tuning the prototypes, arming them, and loading the larger ones with supplies and equipment. What would have normally taken months was accomplished in a scant several days. It had definitely been a huge undertaking, but they were finally ready for flight. For the past several hours, a mix of MandalMotors personnel and warriors that had volunteered to crew the prototypes had been boarding their assigned ships in orderly ranks. One after the other, their engines flickered to life and began to glow steadily. The hum of powerful repulsor drives drowned out everything else as many of them streaked upward and into orbit.

"It's finished." With his helmet off, Coro had to raise his voice to be heard over the droning repulsor drives, "Time for you to get to your ship, Vencu. As promised, I will be the last one to leave Manda'yaim. No one else leaves after me."

Corden nodded in response, remaining silent as he gazed out across the landing field, watching a mix of unfamiliar starships as they continued to take off in an orderly fashion. He closed his eyes briefly as a strong, cool breeze blew across his exposed face.

Coro glanced over at his friend, "I'm going to miss it too, ori'vod. This has been home for as long as I can remember."

Corden opened his eyes and sighed audibly, "We're going back to our roots. Maybe it's for the best."

"Only time will tell." Coro replied, his tone turning somber, "Aay'han."

"Bal'ban... Aay'han." Corden said after a moment of silence, "Watch your six, ori'vod. I'll see you on Roon."

"Re'turcye mhi... Enjoy your new ship."

Corden gripped the man's armored shoulder with a gloved hand, then walked toward one of the two remaining starships, a nine-hundred meter long destroyer bristling with heavy weapons and aptly named Tor his destination.

 

[Brand]

"Good copy, Starskipper, slave our navs at your convenience. Dawntreader out."

Jericho waited until the coordinates had been properly set before reporting back to the Lieutenant. "Sir, we're cleared to jump with the rest of the fleet. Our navigation system has been fused with the fleet's and we'll follow them out."

"Thank you, sergeant," the CO replied with a nod.

"I'll be back before jump, sir, just need to... take care of a few things."

"Feel free, my friend."

Jericho turned on his heel and left, making his way to the cargo hold and past the numerous crew compartments. He walked to the durasteel bulkhead, depressing a green button. A large viewport opened, revealing Mandalore in it's former glory with the hulking Star Destroyers clearly in orbit.

"Never forget," Jericho whispered to himself. A light hand clasped his armored shoulder, and he turned to find his wife beside him. Taking her in his arms, he took a full view of the planet before him as the transport lumbered into position adjacent the Kushari fleet.

This day was done, and as sure as the light had reigned on them for a time so would the darkness be afoot. None the less, the horizon would come once more, and bearing with it the drums of the Mandalorian war machine.

The sleeping giant had been aroused, and it's ferocity would be swift, efficient, and deadly.