The Battle of Coruscant -- Galactic Alliance Defense Force Command Center

[Rom]

The Battle of Coruscant: Galactic Alliance Defense Force Command Center

Within three years the Mandalorian and Imperial Forces had made it to the heart of the Alliance: Coruscant. The Alliance threw the bulk of its Core forces at Alsakan, the battle was devastating as the Mandalorian carved through the resistance. It opened the way for the Sith to launch their attacks on Tython, looking to break the Jedi on their very home as well as Empress Teta. There was no doubt darkness had fallen, war had come to the very place where it was first declared. Citizens who chose to stay were now caught in the crossfire; the Jedi would make their last stand at their temple, and Senators who believed in the good of Democracy pledged their loyalty by fighting alongside those who were first called to the front lines.

The Mandalorian and Imperial Forces send their best task teams to the Alliance Command Center. The central outpost for military dispatch and were final orders are made. The war itself finally came to the steps of the Command Center, personnel and soldiers, cadets and civilians will meet the Mandalorians and the Imperials face to face. The Command Center is critique for order relay to the rest of the worlds in Alliance space, having it fall would be devastating.

 

[TAC]

The troops, masses of the stood. Perfect order, perfect lines, perfect execution. The Army of the Galactic Alliance was a well oiled machine, and even the combined Forces of the mandalorians and sith would find it difficult to beat them back. The Galactic Alliance Defense Force Command Center was the most important part of that Army, the brain to the body. If the Galactic Alliance was going to even have a fighting chance in the defense and evacuation of Coruscant, the men and women of the GA Armed Forces would need to dig in and defend this ground.

And boy were they. The best of the best were assembled: the Galactic Alliance Special Forces. As many as could be spared at other major cites of conflict were stationed where, added to the already significant number surround the Command Center. Inside office workers and officers continued, some trying to coordinate the defense and evacuation of Coruscant, some taking away or destroying top secret information, while others aided in the transfer of Command to other stations throughout the galaxy.

If the Jedi had not left Coruscant and the Galactic Alliance, Jedi Master Larik Novan would not be there. But the Jedi, on command of their Grand Master, had for the most part fled the city-planet. Those who stayed were in direct violation of an order from the Grand Master, grounds for serious discipline, but at the current moment that simply did not matter. It would be a fight for another day, another time- if they could survive this one. No, today the Jedi were gone. In the place of the Jedi Master was Special Forces Captain Larik Novan, who stood at the front of his troops. He was dressed in the black fatigues of the Special Forces, preparing his unit for the battle.

They were all Corellians, and had recently been appointed their new Captain. The day before, actually. Their last commanding officer had been killed in action. They had heard, however, of the recently promoted Captain Novan. The Jedi had been fighting on the frontlines of the war for quite some time, as a Jedi and a Spec Ops Leuitenant. The reports they had heard led them to trust the man- although that he was a Corellian, and once a member of the CorSec, certainly helped.

The unit was on the middle ring of the Command Center's defense. The first ring, a block out from the Command Center, was comprised of Army Regulars. That was where the Sith forces would land, as there was enough room for their transports. The second ring, in the small space between the Command Center and the buildings on it's outskirts, were manned by the Special Forces and several turrets. These turrets would serve to deter any Sith craft from nearing the Command Center itself, and had kept MOST of the bombing at bay, albeit the Command Center had already been hit by orbital bombardments. Once the Sith troops breached the first ring of defense, the turrets would be of no use, as the lines between the Alliance and Imperium would be hazy. The final ring of defense was inside the Command Center itself- an intricate web of Jedi defenders, Special Forces veterans, and hallways with lots of things that exploded.

Nestled in the Eastern Core,

Freedom rings there true,

Lies a land, with such great honor,

dignified and bright.

Behold Corellia,

ol' sacred land,

sing now of their glory.

Ol' Corellia,

land of our fathers,

stand forever boldly.​

As Captain Novan began singing the National Anthem of Corellia, the troops started joining in. Off tune and not to tempo, they sang together. But together, as members of the Special Forces and natural born Corellians, they would stand. Against the attacks of the Sith, the Imperium soldiers, and the Mandalorians. They knew that when Corsucant fell, their home and native lands would be one of the next targets for the sith and their cronies. And so they stood for the Galactic Alliance, the millions that had been murdered by their evil adversaries, and the ones waiting for them at home.

 

[Rev]

"They never stop."

Her eyes shifted across the data screen for what had to have been the hundredth time. The outcry of distress signals hadn't stopped since she had first heard the news; Coruscant was falling. Luckily for her, she hadn't been on the planet when it all began. It would however be the destination her hyperspace route would reach in a matter of seconds. Sliding her hands over the controls of the all too familiar vessel she gave the systems one final check.

"T3, how does everything look?"

The former Battle Master's astromech would quickly respond back with little pause. The necessary data and information scrawling itself across the screen in immediate fashion. Nodding in approval it was met with a sudden jolt as the ship finally broke hyperspeed and came to a stop adrift in space. The sight before her nothing but a snippet of the hell that was brought upon the universe's center. A cluster of TIE units were hot on the tail of an escaping frigate and in a flurry of lasers exploded in a flash of glory before space immediately put the flames out.

A whistle from the droid snapped the Sith Lord out of her trance, realization that she too was a target for the fighters to take target on. A priority no less. With a hit of the thrusters the ship began its nose-dive towards the planet, it wouldn't be long and she'd be breaking atmosphere. Meanwhile her hands went to work on getting it known to any units on the Empire side just who she was.

"T3, I need you to input these codes into the comm array."

Her fingers would type into the system with speed that almost impressed herself. As she typed in the final letter the ship's intercoms would erupt with more chatter. A quick smile would form on her face before fading. Either the Force was on her side, or the Empire was truly foolish to keep the same communication lines. Giving a glance at the rear view screen she could see the TIE unit coming in on her.

"Let them know who we are. Keep it discreet."

Giving the screen a second glance the squadron would break off from Illusia's back. Giving a nod of approval she would continue on her way; the fog of atmosphere breaking and painting before her eyes a true masterpiece created by Sith hands. Tens of bombers flew across the horizon casting down blue orbs only to explode in a fireball unlike anything she'd seen. Her body was tense, an unusual feeling to the Dark Lady. Looking around she viewed the planet as a home; her eyes would however stop on the 'newly' erected Temple. As she stared her thoughts no doubt wandered to her own attack on it, and with a turn she'd put the thought and the view aside.

"What do I do?"

The thought forced its way into her mind, and as it did her hand went to the comm. Giving the Alliance nob a slight turn the sounds emanating from it would increase, while the sounds of the Empire forces would decrease. Relaxing as best she could into the seat she simply began to listen.

"The Force shall guide me."

 

[Gaja]

His armor plates had lost their shinny polish a while ago, it went away with the battles and skirmishes. Battling Sith after Sith, Mandalorian after Mandalorian, the armor the Battle Master wore had withstood some proper tests. The helmet was on his desk as was his modified Jedi robe. His lightsabers were attached to his belt while his ship was in the hangar. It was an unbelievably stressful time for the Corellian as he pointed at a screen.

His helmet was within arms reach really, and his ship wasn't far away either, but deep inside the man knew that he'd probably not see it again. Right now he was directing the defenses of Coruscant against the invaders and it demanded every piece of concentration he had to keep things moving. Luckily he had men and women from the Alliance Navy helping out, despite their obvious dissatisfaction with the Jedi Order abandoning the Alliance, with relaying his orders and bringing the older of the Armstrong twins up to speed on everything.

It had gone on for hours now and as the blond haired Jedi Master thought about his twin sister and how she was doing along with all the other Jedi that were escaping this hell a Navy Captain saluted him and brought the image of a ship on the main holodesk. Explaining that its transponder codes matched those of the previous Battle Master Darix Talohn it was safe to assume that Guhoo was surprised.

"Get in touch with the Araels Wrath. Send a distress call if it turns out to be friendly and invite it over here. I want to know who the captain of that ship is." Saluting him once more the young man turned around and got to it in a matter of seconds as he was ordered. Looking at the chaos and mess that was all around them Guhoo couldn't be more satisfied with how much effort and soul these men and women were putting in to defending their home, yet once the planetary blockade was broken and conflicts started spreading like wildfire on the surface of the planet that's when things really went to hell.

Mass demonstrations, riots, shootouts, conflicts and battles made keeping this organized, clean and contained an impossible task. And when he spared a few seconds to think about the Araels Wrath the Supreme Commander wondered, just who in the hell was this person as he felt a familiar song being sung outside. It'd be interesting to see how things would have turned out if men like Guhoo Armstrong and Larik Novan had been put in charge of the Alliance Defense forces earlier and whether or not it would have made any difference...

What could they do? What would they do? Would they fight to the last remaining breath and die in the blaze of glory or retreat and run like cowards in the face of the big bad Empire... For the soldiers of the Alliance the choice seemed easy, as the vast majority stayed behind to fight. No matter what happened however, the Champion of the Jedi was proud of his men, of all the Jedi and soldiers who stood united to fight against the enemy.

 

[The Kyzer]

High above Coruscant, an hour into the opening naval battle.

Theme​

"It's going down!" an anonymous voice exclaimed over the comm channels, which was quickly answered by cheers and exuberant swearing. A rather-aged Star Destroyer began its slow descent toward the magnificent skyline of Coruscant, fire and radiation leaping out in random torrents while hundreds of starfighters swarmed around the heavily damaged ship like scavenging flies around a dying bantha.

"Roger that," another voice replied, "Move away before it bl-"

The second voice was cut off by a massive explosion that roared out from the very bowels of the Star Destroyer. The blast ripped the hulking ship in twain, obliterating at least 80% of the ship instantaneously. The massive command tower, which had once been so fearsome to its foes, now rocketed up and away from the blast like a child's rocket launching from a playground. An instant later, the impromptu projectile structure was also consumed by the plume of deadly fire and radiation. Most of the starfighters that had once swarmed the ship were caught in the blast, and were now spending the rest of eternity has tiny ionized particles and base elements.

One of the starfighters, however, had been far enough away to have avoided most of the destruction. A lone heavy fighter, a modified LR-7 Outreach to be exact, shook violently as the force of the destroyer's splendid death finally made contact. Its pilot thanked the Force for what seemed the hundredth time that they'd thought to reinforce the fighter's already tough structure. But even the extensive cross-supports and extra-locking mechanisms would not be enough to keep the starfighter completely intact. In fact, it was only just enough to keep the craft from being ripped apart completely, and only barely at that. While the wings successfully remained, the engines were heavily damaged via shrapnel peppering. The nose was also heavily damaged, and the power supply was failing quickly.

A shrill whistle followed by several rather panicked beeps made their way into the cockpit's comm-speakers.

"Yes, Exe, I know," the pilot replied, her feminine voice contrasting greatly with the sound of multiple alarms and the constant vibration of the damaged fighter's hull, "I'm taking her down."

Streaking through the atmosphere, the pilot tried her best to keep her breathing in check, even while the air outside her cockpit broke-out in flames from her speedy descent. The little astromech behind her squealed at this latest as well, but she ignored it. The pilot's yoke constantly strained to throw the craft into a violent roll, but the pilot easily maintained the level flight, her reinforced musculature serving her well. Her nav-markers informed her that the GADF Command Center was a few hundred klicks ahead and below her. It also had an emergency landing strip near it as well.

Uttering another quick prayer to the Force, Von angled her rapidly failing fighter toward the strip, a trench of buffer zones and fire-control units, and activated the fighter's distress unit.

"This is Flight Officer Von Raythe," she said, her voice shaking from the constant vibration, "Requesting permission for use of Emergency Landing Strip Alpha-Zero-Zero-One. I'm coming in hot."

 

[ShadowWalker]

John checked and rechecked his weapons for the, well what seemed like, thousandth time. It was his ritual, and the nonchalance of him checking his weapons before combat he was sure was getting on the nerves of the soldiers around him. As he glanced up, he saw some of them shift, most just stand, and even more had scared looks in their eyes. John cursed under his breath at the regulars he was surrounded by. Bloody shinies, the lot of em. He swore he saw a kid, not older than 17 manning a heavy repeater position not ten yards from his position. Would he stand fast when the enemy came? If his pals did, sure, if not, well that was going to need some replacements then. He volunteered for this position, as he was a seasoned combat veteran, and though he had commando training, he was a rifleman though and though first. Every man of 1st squad was, well, had been. Before they all fought to the death, except for him. Lady Luck saw fit to spare him, and leave him with the guilt of it. His Katarn MK.II armor was dirty from the lack of polish, and regular cleaning. He hadn't cleaned it like when they first got it, only doing it when necessary. The resulting look was much more gritty, more urban, better camouflage for these surroundings, but, his stealth unit would make him invisible anyway so, it wasn't like it mattered much. He looked over to find one kid, another rifleman, another grunt, shaking slightly, probably imagining the horror that was to come. John placed his steady hand on the boy's shoulder, and didn't say anything as the boy turned to look at him, the cold stare of his helmet enough a message.

Tapping the boy's shoulder reassuringly, he picked up his rifle, and walked over to a good vantage point. He placed his thermal detonators in a line next to him, ready to throw at a moment's notice. He would give the oncoming Sith hell as they advanced, and if he was to die today, then so be it. It was about bloody time, but no way in hell was he going to make it easy on the poor sod that tried to end him. No, he would fight tooth and nail like he was trained to, to kill as many as possible before they killed him. He actually pitied the poor sod that tried to engage in CQB with him, as his knives had taken countless lives, some even force sensitive, most not, and he could almost hear Fives chuckle and say his age old saying.

"Hey Psycho, how many you gonna get today?"

To which Psycho would reply

"More than you can count you hairless wookiee,"

"Oh? Thirty creds says I get more than you,"

"You're on,"

John chuckled as he remembered his old squad, and readied himself for the oncoming Sith and Mandalorians. He hadn't face Mandalorians, but he'd enjoy picking them apart like everyone else.

 

[Just Matt Now]

Theme
The massive Light of the force blinked out of the sky in seconds. All who were on board saddened by the fall of their last world, and saddened for those who had stayed to fight for it.​

The sight of the Light of the Force was seen leaving by many of the Jedi who wished to stay and fight for Coruscant. Many had been aboard, all lead by the Sage Master and Weapons Master themselves. By the order of the Grandmaster, they were to flee, take their defeat in stride and live to fight another day. This decision, the decision to heed the Grandmasters order, or stay and defend the world many of them had called home, was a difficult one. One that all Jedi had to make for themselves. All of them knew full well that come the morning of the next day, the war would be upon Coruscant. The hallways and decks of the Force were silent. No one could break words of their emotions, and those that could, did so in the privacy of their own rooms. There was nothing that could be said that wasnt said on the previous day, where all of the Jedi gathered and spoke their intentions. Juno and Guhoo making delicate speeches that touched everyones hearts, as well as his master Larik. Even more joined in in songs started by Padawans who knew that this may just be the very last time they were all together. The war would bring them to the corners of the galaxy, and who knows who would survive the onslaught of the Imperium.

Those that would stay behind did so with honor and valor, their names never to be forgotten, though prayers and hopes of their survival tying the minds of those who heeded the Grandmasters order. No doubt an order given with great regret, or great reprisal. Though the Jedi would always be around, they would always serve to protect the galaxy. However this time they would do so in limited numbers and under the thumb of the Imperium. This was the day of days for the Jedi Order, they would survive, however not without great loss.

And this was the reason for the silence.

~Present

Jedi Knight Loogo Vsil was one among those who boarded the Light. He knew the importance of preservation, their order must survive. Despite this decision, he wanted to stay. His heart yearned to help his master, and Padawan Narrah Sunce. To assist Guhoo Armstrong and the rest of the Alliance Military. Though Loogo knew his place, his plan was to keep the Order going. Like all of the others who was on the massive ship, the Sluissi was silent in a small lone bunk. He had consoled and comforted many Padawans and fellow Knights. These were dark times, and even the strong needed reassurance.

Loogo kept the meeting he had with his master in the back of his mind. The Sundance Maiden rested in one of the hangar bays of the Force, it's codes and affiliation to the Jedi or Alliance all erased from it's dataframe. The Sluissi would use this, he would use this ship, and his superior piloting skills, to fly back to the battle. Under the radar and under the sight of the Imperial ships, he would rescue and aid his masters and fellow Jedi, knowing full well that they would aid in the preservation of the Galactic Alliance Control Center. Without it, and resistance wads futile, and Coruscant would be left without defense.

The time was coming, to board the ship given to him, and leave the Jedi he had procured by themselves. They were now safe under the protection of Juno Armstrong, and they would live to preserve the way of the Jedi...

 

[Butler]

Here they march, pounding the drums of death beneath the songs of hope; echoes in the face of doom. There is no hope. For victory, in any sense, - be it symbolic or even magnificently unforeseen - is a lie. Every soul who dare remain to 'protect' the infected and the damned by self-righteous and self-appointed rite knows the truth. Every soul knows that this day marks the end of the Jedi. This day sounds the true trumpets of Sith ascension. No matter how many Sith or Mandalorian die today, no matter how many the Jedi and their soldiers take with them, the end result will be the same: Coruscant falls.

Troopers in bloodied and dusted white stomp their intimidating formations through the streets, cutting down chaos as they flee and encroaching on the epicenter of those who yet remain. Order comes to replace them. Gods among men, the Sith litter their ranks.

One such Sith, a Crusader, reserved and yet unchallenged walks among them. Noster Eden, a stark silhouette of measured accomplishment and a hand of the Empress come reaching for absolution. His golden claw, arced with rust stains, pass to and fro in opposition to his black steps. It awaits its 'test' this day. For he has been forged by his own suffering, weighed against title and found greater than.

His black glove, finger curled out, points to the bunkered resistance to their side. Before the Imperium troops under his command can act, the bunker explodes with a pinkish purple and a swift team of Mandalorians emerge as they sprint along their perimeter. The Imperium chose their allies well. Yet Noster considers the day they would stand against them in conflict. Now is not the time to be so distracted. So he turns attention forward again, marching with them as the main army progresses behind a shower of energy bolts spraying forth upon the last who defend here. The day is long from over. It has just begun. And Noster saves his hate and vengeance for the internal conflict within, building his power to be released on those who pretend to call themselves his better; pleading that they remain long enough for his sword to find them within this Command Center. Yet while these Jedi disobey their orders to flee, Noster obeys his to keep order and effectively eradicate the liars and the thieves from the heart of the galaxy. Coming close enough now, their ranks cross fold with the Alliance. The battle rages, and Noster teems with expectancy; that there are Jedi out there, inside these walls, that will clash against his might. Let words cast aside and action prove his destiny. Come feel the fires of the Mountain, the burned gardens of Eden...

 

[ShadowWalker]

John lined up his rifle as he held up a hand to steady the men around him. They held their fire, and John picked up his rifle, putting the scope to his visor, lining up the first shot from the defenders. He had instructed for them to wait until he fired the first shot, allowing them to not completely reveal their defensive position, and while other positions fired at will, John's waited. A Sith trooper in a squad was advancing boldly, right into his cross hairs. He probably had no idea that the defenders were indeed still there, waiting for them with bated breath. John silently waited, counting inside his head as the troopers got closer. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10...time's up. The Sith trooper turned, almost like he saw John as the time ran out, and his squad was right in the open. The Mandalorians were smartly sticking to cover, waiting for the defenders to reveal themselves. John squeezed the trigger calmly, and slowly, when finally, a shot rang out. The blue bolt flew from his barrel, travelling straight and true, and catching the poor Sith right between the eyes on his visor. Then, the Heavy repeaters openned up, and missile teams fired a volley of missiles at the oncoming invaders. The trap now sprung, John switched his blaster rifle to automatic, firing alongside his troops, but being more accurate, picking his shots. He killed two more Sith troopers while the first two squads were cut down by repeater fire. The Mandalorians, already in cover, didn't take any losses in the opening volley, and began to return fire. John tapped the missile trooper's shoulder next to him, and motioned towards the Mandalorians. The man nodded, and fired his launcher at the nearest group, blowing their cover to smithereens, and scattering the squad. John chucked a couple thermal detonators at the oncoming Sith, the explosions throwing more noise and confusion into their ranks. John roared to his men over the firing.

"GIVE THEM NO QUARTER, AND ACCEPT NONE IN RETURN!!"

The fight was on.

 

[Stel Starkiller]

A rather large transport ship landed close to the Galactic Alliance Defense Force Command Center, about five blocks away. It had tried to get closer but had taken a few hits and decided to move back. As the ship landed it's hatch opened, a gang-plank extended, and a swarm of Imperial troops hastily moved out. Walking behind the soldiers was a young man with green skin and silver hair. Dressed in black and with a lightsaber hilt attached to his belt it was clear this man was no friend of the Jedi Order.

The masterless Sith followed the soldiers as they pressed towards a group of Alliance soldiers. The reason he followed instead of leading was so that he could use the soldiers as a shield. This was not something he did out of fear though. He simply figured why dirty his hands on mere soldiers when he could save his energy for his true enemies, the Jedi.

As the soldiers pressed on a lone gunshot was heard, followed by the sounds of explosions and rapid laser fire. The young Sith ordered the soldiers to advance towards the source of the noise. When they arrived the young man took a quick glimpse of his surroundings and saw another squadron of Imperial troops. Deciding to merge his group with the other one to have superior numbers and firepower the young man made simple gestures which the soldiers immediately picked up on. From the other group the young man saw another Sith. Well at least he wasn't the only Sith here.

The young Sith drew his lightsaber and advanced. The unique blade was jet black in color. The young Sith grinned evilly as he thought about the massacre that was about to happen. It was something that brought him great entertainment. He heard a voice yell something about giving no quarter and expecting none. The war had truly started.

 

[Darkwasp]

The roaring screech of the S-1630 Racing Swoop came to a stop, as Narrah pulled up to Captain Novan’s position. A long scratch across her left deltoid still bled, from a small piece of debris that had clipped her, as she sped past an exploding wall. The Padawan’s face, and various other parts of her body, was already covered in grim, and her rare Swoop bike had a few carbon scoring marks from a couple of near misses.

The Lorrdian detached her ESR9 Sniper Rifle from the side of the bike; its barrel still warm from use, and slung it over her shoulder. From her sniper position, she had spotted a second Imperium transport landing in a clearing not too far away. During her return Narrah had spotted an Imperial Vanguard. The Jedi had quickly taken the high ground, using her sniper rifle to eliminate the quartet before they had a chance to report any Alliance activities or numbers. It felt good to use her rifle again. She hadn’t spent nearly enough time with it since she had begun training with the Jedi weapon.

Moving quietly toward Larik’s side, Narrah continued to face the crowd of men that the Captain was addressing as she made her report. ”Larik, a second transport just landed 5 clicks to the Southwest.” she alerted, her violet eyes staring out over the sea of men that seemed more than thrilled to be following Captain Novan. ”It’s time.”

There was a tinge of sadness in her final words; something drastically different from her normal monotone tone. How many of these men would fall today in order to defend the freedoms that they held so dear? With the other Jedi now headed off to places unknown, did they even stand a chance verses the combined onslaught of the Imperium and the Mandolorians? The lavender haired Padawan closed her eyes, flushing all doubt from her system. Now was the time for action, not contemplation. They had spent numerous days preparing for this inevitability. In the immortal words of a once great Jedi Master, ‘Do or do not. There is no try’.

”Where would you like me stationed, Larik?” she said, briefly considering giving him the satisfaction of her calling him Master, before the tumultuous battle began. It was best that he remembered her as she was.

 

[TAC]

The war had started.

For Master Novan, this was not the beginning, but the end. The end of a long journey where many people he had come to respect and love would die by a blaster or blade. And here, in this battle, so many more would fall. Perhaps even Larik himself- but the man had no fear of death. He felt the Force in him, around him, and knew that this was where he was to be.

As the Sith crushed through the frontlines, Larik looked over and saw his Padawan Narrah Sunce speed up. She made her report, and the man simply nodded. Time it was, indeed. They was no more time to prepare, meditate, train, it was now time to fight. To die, possibly, for an institution that all of them believed was necessary. The Imperium, led by the Sith, was evil. While the Galactic Alliance certainly had it's moments, it had been in overall opposition to corruption and injustice. But that time was up.

The Jedi Master turned, pointing to the second level of the Command Center he was only a few hundred feet from. "Go in those doors there, and you'll see stairs forward on the right. Go up them, and you'll find yourself with a nice location to pick off some of their commanders." It was obvious that this was a temporary location- no one had any doubt that, while they might fight hard, the Galactic Alliance had already lost the day. The man moved close into Narrah, closer than the man had ever been to her, and grabbed her forearm to capture her attention. "I will try to join you, Narrah. But if I don't make it, find Guhoo. Stick with him." He looked into the eyes of his last remaining Padawan and hugged her.

It was the first time the man had ever come out of his shell of Jedi Master and shown any affection, in a physical manner, to any of his Padawans. Narrah was a good student, challenging and questioning, and the man had done all he could for her. Now he was not sure he would be able care for her any more. Although she might not feel that way, Larik had always felt like a bit of a father figure for his Padawans. Not overly so, but he had cared for their training and lives as best as possible for the numerous years he had been there Master, and that was the relatonship they had.

Releasing the Jedi, and without letting her question and ask to stay here, he nodded towards the Command Center and said, "Go, Narrah."

With a small, sad smile the Jedi Master moved away from his Padawan, moving through the numerous ranks of his men and towards the front lines. Soon, the sith would be there. And the Captain of the Special Forces, the Master of the New Jedi Order, as always a true Corellian at heart, Larik Novan would be one of the first to introduce them to their next obstacles. The man broke through the ranks, and took his lightsaber out, igniting it with a snap and hiss of the beautiful, murky blade.

It was time.

 

[The Kyzer]

The trail of smoke that streamed out of the tail-end of the starfighter merely blended in with the growing clouds around it caused by the numerous fires growing on the planet below. Von gripped her controls tightly as she did her best to navigate her plummeting craft.

She hit her comm controls again and requested permission to use the emergency landing strip. She was only rewarded with static. GA Command simply had too much to deal with right now with the invasion and all. Meanwhile, Exe, her R8 astromech, still wailed and whistled behind her cockpit, and his profanities filled the little com-screen before her. Von sighed a little at their predicament, and the little droid's fountain of complaints and worry. Looking down at the Emergency Landing Strip, she felt her spirits fall just a little farther.

"Yes, Exe, I see it," she said to the little droid. The landing strip was occupied with multiple fighter wrecks, and several looked like their pilots hadn't walked away from the crash-site.

Checking her scanners for another suitable landing zone, Von discovered that the GADF Command Center itself was now under siege. Several Imperial troop transports were filing down a wide avenue. Von suddenly had a plan. It was desperate, and extremely wreckless, and she knew that Master Ashara would probably frown on such a maneuver, but there was little choice in the matter.

After running a quick diagnostic on her emergency ejection-system, and Exe's, Von put as much power into her damaged engines as she could and tried to wrangle her piloting yoke over to place the failing fighter on a new course...directly as the Imperial line.

"You ready, Exe?" she yelled to the astromech, who ceased his wailing to beep a short affirmative, and held on. She delved into the Force to calm her nerves and make sure her timing was perfect. It would have to be. Suddenly Von felt a pang of warning and danger. A dark aura was somewhere below...one that felt both familiar and terrible at the same time.

"The dark one," she murmured. Anger and pain welled up within her as she thought back to their first meeting...on Tython.

The city below grew larger and larger as Von's fighter hurtled toward it. She recieved a warning from Exe informing her that her etheric rudder had failed, but that probably helped her more than anything. Now her fighter was locked into its trajectory.

Should I prepare the emergency IFF beacon?, Exe asked via Von's com-screen.

Von shook her head and said, "Better not. Might warn the Imps of our...attack."

The Padawan smirked at this last bit of dry humor and gripped the pilot-ejection lever under her seat firmly in preparation.

"Now, Exe!" she cried as she pulled the lever. Suddenly her cockpit's canopy blasted off and her seat's mini-repulsor engaged, shooting her free of the craft, though still strapped to the pilot's seat. Von looked over and saw that Exe had also ejected, and was using small deployable rockets to stabilize himself. Her own descent was slightly controlled by the seat's emergency repulsors, but their power wouldn't last too long. The seat did have a primitive chute that could be deployed, but Von wouldn't use it quite yet. In fact, she wanted her descent to increase, so she cut the power to the repulsors. Her chair dropped, but not nearly as fast as her rocketing starfighter.

The craft hurtled toward the line of Imperial transports, and slammed into the center of their formation with immense force. The remaining fuel in the fighter's tanks ignited, along with the transport it had struck's fuel reserves, and a massive fireball erupted from the crash. Von watched grimly as hundreds of Imperial troops were vaporized instantly, with hundreds more injured along with their heavy equipment. It wasn't much, but it was a solid start to Von's personal ground battle.

Reaching with her mind, Von found the aura again. It was close, maybe a few hundred yards away. She herself finally slowed her fall by deploying the emergency chute. As the Padawan descended onto a low building, she gunned the repulsors while unstrapping herself from the seat. She hadn't been wearing a proper flightsuit when she'd gone up into orbit to fight the invasion, so she was unhampered by its thick cloth, wearing only her usual darkened robes. Exe landed a few meters from her, and beeped an inquiry about her status.

Von looked to the little droid with a smirk and gave it a thumbs-up. Then she ordered the droid to remain here and monitor the communication channels for any more incoming Imperials. Meanwhile, she herself would go to render aid to the Command Center's defenders.

Leaping off the roof, Von used a nearby dead powerline to slow her descent. She approached the burning remains of the Imperial formation, and was confronted by two darkly robed figures. When they produced crimson lightsabers, Von easily deduced their allegances.

"Die Jedi!" one yelled, charging forward recklessly, lightsaber poised overhead. Von breathed in deeply and entered her chosen stance of Djem So while igniting her lightsaber. The icy blade met the blood-red Sith saber head-on, with Von gaining the advantage with a swift punch into the man's abdomen. The second Sith came at her while the first moved away to recover from Von's immensely strong attack. Flipping around using Ataru acrobatics, the Sith sought to overwhelm Von with a flury of attacks and kicks. The experienced Padawan merely swatted these attacks aside, and eventually severed the Sith's outstretched leg during a rather reckless kick aimed at her chest. These Sith were inexperienced, and had probably only just reached the rank of Acolyte due to the war's attrition on the Sith's ranks. She mercifully ended his life with a quick stab through his heart and moved to fight the remaining Acolyte.

The man looked at Von with fear as he'd just seen his comrade fall against this Jedi with minimal effort. Clearly she was more powerful than he. He prepared to stand his ground though, bravely, and Von acknowledged this by lowering her saber. It was then that she truly appreciated the man's youth. He was actually probably no older than twenty standard years.

"You should leave, young one," she stated calmly and clearly, "before others come. You are much too young to die here in this foolish war."

The young Sith nodded and ran off. Von felt a warm glow rush through her body. In all this slaughter, perhaps she had saved one life.

Then Von felt the dark familiar aura.

If there was one here that truly deserved to feel the bite of her saber, it was that man. Gathering the Force within her, Von exercised the Art of Movement to throw herself forward toward the Command Center.

 

[Fantasy Liver]

The shuttle Darkshriek hurtled through the busy skies of Coruscant, heading towards the Galacic Alliance Defense Force Command Center. It was an intimidating name for a rather unimpressive shuttle. Darkshriek was a rusty old tanker that had been painted black and converted into a "Sith shuttle." It was lucky to still be flying. It looked like it hadn't seen an engineer in decades. The shuttle was piloted by a droid.

"Approaching the Command Center now, Masters." the pilot droid said to the Darkshriek's four occupants. Yet none of them bothered to reply to the droid. They were too focused on their mission. The first three occupants were Imperial commandos, decked in traditional black commando armor, yet with a red lightsaber painted on their shoulder pads. Two of them were human, while the other was a Rodian. All three of them had served together for over six months and were hardened soldiers, fit and ready to die for their Empire.

They looked towards their commanding officer in this battle; Darren Trixx. The former Jedi-turned Sith Acolyte, eyed his three troops with pride. This was his first mission with the Sith and he was eager to please his superiors. The pink-furred Lepi had been assigned by a Sith Lord to gather a fireteam from the Storm battallion and to kill the Jedi, Larik Novan. While most of his Sith bretheren would have chosen any three troops, Darren had carefully looked at each squad in Storm Battallion and chosen the best three from the squad he saw best fit for the task.

And he needed these men. Darren had left the Jedi Order because, try as he might, he could never reach the Force potential that his peers had. He worked day and night, trying to meditate and focus. But nothing seemed to work. After almost a decade of training, he still had nothing to show for it but a basic grip on Force powers and lightsaber combat. Today was the day where he sought to change that and gain some real experience. Maybe even enough to impress a Master into recruiting him as an apprentice...

But he was getting ahead of himself. Right now, the focus was on Novan. While not the most skilled Jedi, Novan was still a talented opponent. Were he and Darren to fight one on one in a fair fight, the Lepi Sith would be dead in seconds. Which is why his superiors sent him to kill Novan of course. They wanted to see if he was truly cunning and strong enough to join the ranks of the Sith. With his three commandos and strategy, he hoped to do just that.

"Droid, land us in the first ring of defense. Judging from Novan's record, he'll probably be here - in the thick of it. Gear up men!" he commanded. The Rodian and humans jumped to attention and saluted. All three of them had assault rifles and concussion grenades. Hopefully, it'd be enough.

The pilot droid did as commanded and landed right in the middle of the first ring - or rather, in the middle of all the combat. As it was landing, it took heavy fire from turrets and blasters, so it made for a bumpy landing. The shields managed to hold but Darren would be surprised if the Darkshriek would ever fly again. As the Rodian pushed the button that activated the ramp, Darren ignited his lightsaber and ran out of the ship. Into the chaos that was this battle.

 

[Rev]

Staring out of her view screen, Aÿisha's eyes went from building to building and as suddenly as she had broke atmosphere noise would break way into her cockpit. At first a flurry of static would meet the Sith Lord's ears, her head turning in reaction to the unwelcome sounds. As seconds passed and a few nobs were adjusted the static would turn into middle-aged man's voice; no doubt requesting aide.

"-rael's Wrath.. This is Captain Jules Penzaak with the Galactic Alliance please respond. Arael's Wrath, please report in. I repeat, Arael's Wrath, This is Captain Jules Penzaak with the Galactic Alliance."

As a smile crept onto the woman's face she'd flip down the hood of her cloak, dark green eyes would reveal to the glowing battle before her. Hitting the transmission output she'd begin a response of her own to the Captain, but not before pinpointing the transmissions sending point: The Defense Command Center.

"Captain, this is Jedi Knight Aÿisha Remy. I'm under heavy fire, but am making my way to your location!"

Hitting in a few commands into the navicomputer as a TIE Unit made its way behind her she couldn't help but feel some of the stresses of battle finally weighing in. Especially when you were "on both sides."

"Need immediate landing approval, this bird is coming in fast."

As she finished her transmission her fingers would work over the defense systems. Her words going to T3 and him alone this time.

"Double the shielding to the rear, T3. NOW!"

As she spoke a barrage of blaster fire would erupt from behind the starfighter. The beams of red energy forever cutting closer to her own ship before finally hitting shields. Her eyes would widen as the power to them went from 200% to 150% in only an instant. The loud whine which erupted from T3 was just another warning of what was to come.

Pulling the ship into a barrel roll, the fighter went into a clockwise rotation and she could feel the pit in her stomach form as gravity took hold of her framework forever spinning. Once she broke out of the spin she'd cut between two housing apartments that had to be some of the tallest in the Universe, and possibly some of the closest together. Coming out of a would be alley her sensors would begin their search for the small 3 ship unit, trying to buy some time for the shields to replenish all the while making her way closer to the Command Center.

"This is Captain Penzaak, you're approved to land on pad 3. It is near the Northwest Corner of the building, Master Jedi. There is an assaulting force ever approaching... Do hurry if you can!"

 

[Butler]

The Imperium was beginning to converge along this main street, though units came from seemingly every corner and from all sides; achieving victory one block at a time and marching on the Command Center last. Their ranks were spread, separated mainly into two groups; those in the fight and the seemingly endless reinforcements. Noster watched as some Acolytes and Crusaders filed in through the alleys with their troops. There were too many of them to even attempt to recognize. Though most were too young to even count among the living once this was all over. Noster gritted his teeth as he watched the waves of Imperium troopers crash into the mix of Alliance soldiers and Jedi, just up ahead. He was close now.

"Noster!" a familiar voice called from afar.

Noster turned back around his right. Then a craft screamed through the air, and it crashed into the rear ranks behind. Noster spun back around left. Eyes widening, the guiding hand of the great Mountain gripped at his heart. Fate called at him again, he knew it. He knew that signature in the wreckage. He snatched up his lightsaber and intended to return back into the ranks to seek it out. But then that voice came again.

"Noster."

It was just behind him there, so he turned back around his right and saw the Chagrian Sith Master whom he had met on Korriban.

"Eirethesh," Noster acknowledged.

"Hold back for now. Artillery cannons are opening fire," the black skinned Chagrian sorcerer ordered sharply.

Far behind Sith lines, behind the crashed ship of the Jedi, the line of heavy artillery cannons wheeled closer and closer. Soon they would be in range and would sound the ultimate end of the Command Center's shields. The Alliance had seemingly split their forces. There were those within the structure, then there were those without. Those who were outside the structure, defending against the coming hoards, were all doomed to die. Though they died with a purpose, one the Sith recognized. They died to give the Alliance more time. But surely if the Alliance had any heavy weaponry, they would not use it on their own ranks which now crossed with the Imperiums and the Mandalorians.

But there was another scheme in play. One Sith Master, a red skinned Devaronian warrior named Bezarr, had taken to the undercity with a small squad of twelve to attempt to infiltrate the Command Center through its under-bearings. Whatever resistance they found there, they would gnaw like rats until they ate their way into the heart of this place.

Noster turned back to see the oncoming forces, screaming and calling their last cries in a hailstorm of blaster fire and clashing steel. Flickers of blue and green also littered the sea of soldiers, Jedi fools who stayed to see the Alliance's end first hand.

Two lightsbers suddenly ignited on either side of them, and Eirethesh and Noster split apart intuitively. Noster's red beams ignited into twin greens and Eirethesh's single red beam ignited into one blue. The Jedi had reached them.

Noster left Eirethesh to his man, as Noster pushed his female Jedi back into a trooper. Maneuvering room was tight. But she slashed his arm free from his body, as he screamed, and reengaged Noster with a single purpose; to die fighting. Noster spun his blades round under her falling blade until they clashed. His other blade arced over and his elbow smacked against her cheek. To which she spun around and swung for a killing blow to his back. Noster spun in opposition with her and brought up his rear blade from below with another clash, then dis-ignited the beam and sidestepped her with a rising slash of the rear blade as it slashed through her wrists.

She let a slight whelp escape her proud lips as her momentum led her to her knees, holding her severed nubs up to her tearing face with eyes beginning to flutter. Noster rotated the hilt around from hand to hand, ending with the single crimson beam pointing up. Then down it came.

With a quick sear she was dead, a lock of hair snipped and whisked into the stale air from the slash through the back of her neck. She had earned a quick death.

Elsewhere, a small Mandalorian group made attempt on a man hole in an alleyway where they might blast their way into the Command Center. This place would soon become overrun.

 

[Fantasy Liver]

Darren Trixx rushed out of the downed shuttle and was met with a squad of Alliance troops, gathered at the bottom. All of them had their blasters raised and pointed at Darren. He grinned to himself. Due to his mediocre ability with the Force and lightsaber combat, Darren had made sure to have a great strategy in order to survive the day. Because of this, he had numerous contingency plans, covering incidents that may befall he and his team today. One of these plans involved how to deal with Alliance troops near the shuttle...

The troops opened fire. Darren crouched to give them a smaller target and deflected the bolts that came his way. He wasn't skilled enough to deflect them back to their source but he could keep himself alive. His fireteam rushed down the ramp, five seconds afterwards and crouched as well, opening fire on the nine Alliance troops gathered below. Because Darren was deflecting most of the shots away, the three Sith commandos didn't have to really worry about getting hit and could, instead, focus all of their efforts on slaying their enemies. The elite commandos downed five of the Alliance troops before the rest turned tail and fled. As they were fleeing, the Rodian commando shot another in the back. That left three to deal with for Darren. The Lepi Sith leapt into the air as far as the Force would allow and landed right in front of the retreating Alliance soldiers.

The Alliance troops jumped at the sight of the Sith, now in front of them. They raised their weapons but Darren had already went to work. He lunged at the nearest one, skewering him in the belly. The Rodian gunned down one more from the safety of the shuttle, leaving Darren to kill the other in short order.

The Lepi was relieved. If his fireteam hadn't been there, he didn't know if he could have defeated the Alliance squad.

"Good work. Let's secure this area until we get some reinforcements. Owen, get that turret online." said Darren to one of the commandos, referring to the repeating blaster on the underbelly of the shuttle. The commando nodded and went inside the ship to get the turret up and running. Afterwards, Darren and the three commandos held the area, ready to kill any Alliance troops or Jedi who got too close to the shuttle.

 

[TAC]

Theme


It was time.

The Sith and Mandalorians troops were strong. True that the Galactic Alliance military was determined, knowing that if they lost Coruscant they had completely lost, but there was no stopping the onslaught that had begun. Coming this close to the end prize, there would be no backing down for the Galactic Alliance's enemies. They would be victorious on this battle field or every single one of them would die in an attempt to come to the other resolutions.

Larik knew that there was more to live for. He might day today, there was no doubt about it, but the man was here out of responsibility to the citizens of the Galactic Alliance that were trapped and at the mercy of the cruel Sith. The man had a lot to live for, actually. A respectable position within the New Jedi Order, a leader among his Order, and many friends and brothers and sisters that would need his guidance and protection. But that was for another time. There was no avoiding what was now coming.

The outside ring did not last long. The Jedi Master was not at all surprised at this- and he knew that even the second ring would not last long. As the crimson lightsaber became visisble at the closest side of the first ring of Galactic Troopers, Larik turned, his lightsaber already ignited and sputting, waiting for the inevitable combat. "Well then, it's time," the man said to the closest Special Forces troopers, giving them a smile which they all returned. There were hard men- but extremely skilled fighters. A few 'yes, sir's and other comments were delivered with the smiles. These men would follow their Captain, even as a Jedi, to their death. Unfortunately, that was a reality that would be coming true very soon.

"Special Forces, Company I, 42nd Corellian Regiment, 3rd Corps!" the Jedi boomed at this troop of men. "Today I do not fight just as a Jedi. Today we do not fight just as Corellians. Today we fight for every single being that the Sith have killed, are killing, or will fall to their blades. We fight today in honor of our fallen comrades, to defend our families, and to serve the Alliance that has kept us safe and prosperous for so many years." The man stopped yelling, raising his lightsaber slowly into the air, "SO LET US FIGHT!" the man yelled, turning and sprinting towards the now visible Sith, Stormtroopers, and other Imperial soldiers. The Corellians joined their Captain in a fierce blood-curling scream, which was able to be heard even over the explosions, fire, and death. The first ring was no compromised- and the second ring was in motion.

The Jedi Master's cloak whipped off as he closed the distance between himself and his opponents. His men trailed behind, screaming and charging, ready to follow the Jedi even into the face of death. Some of the imperial were intimidated by the scream, and looked to the stormtroopers and Sith for guidance. The Sith simply grinned, waiting for the oncoming soldiers. The stormtroopers opened fire on the charging Jedi, as well as his counterparts, but were discouraged by the results. Master Novan blocked most of the shots with his lightsaber, twirling in a frenzy of lightsaber moves, and flicking them back towards the stormtroopers that shot them- taking many of the armored soldier down. The blaster bolts that he did miss he simply moved past, implementing the Force to give him grace. For added effect, as the troopers realized they weren't getting anywhere and started to cease fire in amazement, Larik caught one of the bolts. It disappeared in his hand, and the man grinned as he continued to charge.

A lightsaber can only move through bodies so quickly, however. As soon as Larik made it to the Imperium line, his lightsaber spun, going for the most critical and narrow part of the body- the neck. it was terrifying, seeing the skilled swordsmen simply decapitate a half dozen Imperial Stormtroopers in a matter of seconds. The grey, murky lightsaber was mesmerizing, giving no quarter to the Sith invaders as it danced around- and through- their heads. The Corellian Special Forces slammed into the ranks of the rest of the Imperials, pushing the suddenly disheartened troops backwards. The Corellians continued to scream in blood-thirst as even the Sith fell to their ranks- their aim was perfect, their actions fluid and coherent, and they had been trained by their Jedi Captain how exactly to handle the Dark-side users.

Eventually, the first ring- on either side of the Imperium soldiers that had at first piledrived through their lines- felt the momentum swing as the Corellians pushed their enemies back. It was going well as Larik continued to shred his way through the infantry- and the occasional Crusader or Acolyte could not stand up to the Master Jedi. Eventually, however, their momentum slowed. It was not until they had almost regained all of the territory that the first ring had lost, however. Unfortunately for the reinvigorated troops, they were but a small part of the defense of the Command Center. As they pushed forward, the first ring was broken in several other locations, and the second ring already had it's hands full trying to patch up the lines.

'Captain Novan,' the man heard in his ear as he sliced through a Stormtrooper Lieutenant, 'The second ring is beginning to fall. Pull your section back and let the first ring at your location spread thin, we need you here now.' The Jedi Master looked around, now clear opponents in the area so that he could assess the situation. It was clear that without their support, the first ring at this locations would in a matter of minutes be again broken by the force of the hammer that was the Sith. Orders were, however, orders. "This is Captain Novan, confirmed. We're pulling back now," the man responded. "Company I," the man called into his earpiece, connecting him with his men, "Fall-back." There were no questions or necessity for confirmation- they had their orders. Slowly, still fighting, the Corellians began falling back, the man with the brilliant lightsaber still standing between the division of Imperial and Galactic Alliance. The Imperials continued to push forward, however, eager to beat back the defenders that had quite suddenly came upon them.

As he sliced through another Acolyte that attempted to challenge him, the Jedi Master saw several Sith heading towards his location. They would be no different than the ones before- they would fight, and Larik and his troops would either kill them or Force them away. They were a machine- a cold, well oiled machine that would fight to the death for their families, for their brothers and sisters in arms, and for the Galactic Alliance that they believed in.

 

[Stel Starkiller]

Yang heard the sound of a starfighter and looked up. A ship was headed right for a group of transports ships, including the one he had been on. Moving a safe distance away Yang calmly watched as all the ships went up a giant ball of fire. A portion of his troops had been killed instantly with even more getting injured. Despite their moans of pain Yang ordered them to get up and fight, those who refused were dealt with accordingly. Turning his attention to the wreckage of ships Yang knew that whoever did that did not stay in their ship. Glancing around he saw something land on a nearby rooftop. The rooftop itself was relatively low and Yang decided to make his way towards it.

By the time Yang got to the roof whoever, or whatever, had been there was gone. Walking over to the side of the building Yang saw someone, a woman, land on the ground and fight two sith. He grinned and decided to watched the fight, see if he could learn how the woman would fight. It was a short fight as one sith fell in battle and the other ran. Cowards had no place in the Sith Order. The fight did not tell him much, if anything at all.

Leaping off the roof Yang used nearby walls, large chunks of debris, and whatever else he could find to slow his decent and get close to the woman. Her icy blade would look good as a trophy. As the woman started moving Yang combined Force Speed with Force Jump to intercept the woman.

Landing in front of the woman Yang first pointed his black blade at the woman then took up the opening stance for Ataru and grinned. ”Can’t have you going any further Jedi” Yang said. His tone of voice was cocky yet confident. He was not going to strike first. This was Yang’s first fight against a Jedi and he was eager to test his skills.

 

[Fantasy Liver]

Two heavily armored Sith speeders arrived near the shuttle. The pilot, gunner and passengers got out and guarded the shuttle. There was no need to hold this location anymore for Darren and the three commandos and they now knew where to strike. Aside from the occasional Alliance soldier, guarding the shuttle had been relatively easy, giving Darren Trixx ample opportunity to observe the battle. He saw bravery on both sides; rallying charges from the Alliance and precise killings from the Sith.

And then he saw him. Novan. Darren saw him effortlessly cut through troops after troops. But what really concerned him was the way he mowed down through the Sith that attempted to stop the Jedi. Darren stared incredulously, fear in his eyes. Were the Sith that sent him to assassinate Novan, setting him up? How could they expect an amateur Acolyte to defeat one so skilled in the ways of the Force? One of the commandos must have seen his uncertainty.

"Orders, sir?" he asked.


"Hop in one of those speeders. We're going after Novan." Trixx said, determined. Even if he died, he would not run off like a coward. He had to prove himself and show the galaxy that Darren Trixx was not a useless waste of space. He and his fireteam hopped into one of the speeders and sped off to Novan's location.

"Concentrate fire on the Jedi." Darren ordered. His commandos did so and the forward cannon of the speeder fired blast after blast towards Larik Novan and his troops as they sped towards the Jedi.