The Battle of Coruscant -- The Fall of Westport

[Rom]

The Fall of Westport

Westport Spaceport was the largest terminal on Coruscant; the location of the Senator's private yacht berths, the largest corporate shipping and receiving center, and the best place for intrepid adventures to find a craft going anywhere from Aaeton to Zznza. If you were looking for transport on Coruscant, it was the place to go.

With the arrival of the Sith Armada however, it was where thousands of refugees had fled, trying to find passage off of the planet while the Alliance Navy stalled them at the moons. It was utter chaos; people being trampled as they rushed into the over-filled hulls of any transport that would take them, spacers taking advantage of anyone desperate enough to pay the exorbitant fees they demanded for passage, and doomsayers preaching the end of the galaxy. As the sky began to darken with the dagger shaped hulls of Star Destroyers, the citizens of Coruscant began to panic and riot, attacking each other in their desperate attempts to get aboard the now fleeing transports.

Members of the Alliance Military have been sent to keep the peace and protect the people as the Sith land, while smugglers and sympathetic spacers aid them in the evacuation process. But as the sounds of explosions and battle gets clearer, it becomes obvious that the Imperials are coming for the Spaceport; and it is up to them to stall for time as long as possible. The lives of thousands are at stake, and if the brave soldiers and spacers don't defend them, then no one will.

 

[Lucid]

Andreas felt the change in the air; it was subtle a dimming on the edges of his senses that caused him to look away from the mad onslaught of people fighting tooth and nail to escape Courscant towards the horizon. The sounds of battle had been sounding clear for a long time now, but they had been muted by distance. With the help the GA military and varied ranks of the criminal classes some measure of authority and order was still imposed over Westport. Nobody had started shooting their way onto transports and even though the throngs of people fleeing the galactic capitol were crushing--sometimes literally--Andreas counted the lack of shots fired as a minor victory. If people weren't mad with panic then there was still a chance that they could get more people offworld quickly, before the Sith turned up in force.

However...that shadow on the edge of his senses made Andreas nervous. He wished there were more Jedi with him. If the Sith turned up en masse he knew he wouldn't last long. Against the rank and file he could easily hold his own, but against Masters it would not go well.

But.

He was stuck here alone. Trying to help the people of this world escape as the Jedi turned and ran. Fled into the Temple to protect themselves. He had heard something over the holo-net stating that the Jedi had been declared traitors and were no longer an official branch of the GA; whatever. Like that mattered at all. The essence of what it meant to be Jedi was--in Andreas' mind--that you used your knowledge and power to help those who needed help. Anything less than that was a betrayal of a personal trust and balance within oneself.

Yet it seemed that his peers had forgotten that as they scrambled to protect themselves; fighting in the temple, away from those who needed their support. The young Jedi Knight seethed within as he herded people onto transports and watched the military set up stronger fortifications around the edges of Westport as the sky darkened with the hulls of star destroyers. The Sith had finally arrived; a malevolent tide that surged from all around as they landed and started pouring fear into the Force; taking the already high level of panic among the populace to the next level. The throngs of people screamed as one and surged forward; knocking Andreas from his perch on the loading ramp railing as they crushed forward.

Over the screams and shouts a shot rang out, followed by piercing screech of a concussion charge. It had begun.

Spoiler: NOTE

Ok everyone. Write yourselves in. I think I provided everyone with something they coul be doing at the start. GA's setting up a stronger perimeter, Sith are rappelling down from shuttles and advancing from all directions toward the spaceport proper. Also to the Sith: Andreas isn't dressed like a Jedi or openly carrying his lightsaber so make sure you spot him some other way when the time comes.

 

[Phil]

With word of the Sith already invading various points across Coruscant, LFN-452 figured it may have been a bad time to visit. The Voice on the other hand knew it was a perfect time to make something of themselves. Having entered the main docking area clad in his armored suit and weapons holstered on, he may have seemed like Ex-Military or a freelancer like he was who was helping others or looking out for himself. He never allowed anyone of the stampeding civilians to knock him down as he walked past them, brushing past them with ease.

"......"

"Perhaps we should."

"......"

"We would blend in very well, but such a waste to slaughter them."

"......"

"We will find better. Maybe it's just a coincidence we came here during their invasion. I call it luck."

LFN then eased away from the crowds, then used his jets to propel himself up to the rafters near the ceiling, landing on a solid piece in a corner. He kept a steady balance as he went to observe everything unfolding. He would strike when it was most beneficial to him and The Voice.

 

[Ender]

Ruusan Marren. Who was she? Mandalorian? Alliance Soldier? Somewhere in between? Was she fighting a war worth fighting?

Sighing, Ruusan waved another family though the gates. They bustled off into a shuttle that would eventually take them...somewhere? Where were they running to? This was the last Bastion of the Alliance. Hutt Space? Doubtful. Ruusan guessed that they were just running. Running from war. Running from chaos. Running from the unknown. It was chaos.

If she concentrated, she could feel the vibrations in the distance. The concussion of explosions, the rage of battle. So far away. But too close for comfort. Meanwhile, the masses pressed against the line. There was CorSec here, all in riot gear. The Red Hand had seen first hand what these civillians could do and had passed that information onto all ground units in the AO. Looks like CorSec had gotten the memo. Colonel McNamara had done a fine job.

And then the explosions got louder. They were here. The wolf was at the door, the boogeyman not so far away anymore. It wasn't just some far away war. It was here. In their homes, their cities. There was no longer apathy. Only fear. The rumblings of the crowd had stopped. It was silence. Serene. Ruusan heard a few safeties switched to auto. Somebody dropped their riot shield. Directly above, they could see a star destroyer. There was the deep, guttural booming of an explosion. The shockwave washed over the crowd. The spell was broken, and the crowd surged forward.

The entire world exploded in an instant, all around her shots were fired as the Alliance Soldiers fired wildly at the incoming Imperials. Ruusan had on standard GAMCA armor, close quarters variant which allowed for a greater range of movement at the cost of protection around her extremities. But her vital regions were covered. Drawing her blaster pistol, which she set to stun, she fired into the first three people that came at her. "Ladies and gentlemen, remain kriffing calm. We're gonna do this as smoothly and cleanly as possible! These soldiers aren't aiming to hurt you, just seize the spaceport. Now single file, on the kriffing transport, MOVE!"

Ruusan holstered the blaster pistol, drawing her rifle once more. There was piece of equipment that seemed out of place. A vibrosword mounted on her back. It was of expert craftsmanship, cortosis weave. She could go toe to toe with a sith if needed. But then there was that bloody force crap. This was going to be exciting. "Fireteam Yayax, form up, get this people on transports and keep those bastards off of us!"​

 

[Just Matt Now]

The thrum and vibration of several dropships was heard and felt outside of the spaceport. Though following soon after were the sounds of explosions and crashing. The chaos that ensued inside of the largest spaceport on Coruscant was nothing, nothing compared to those that were unfortunate enough as they were. Soon enough a couple small shuttles, one slightly larger than the other crashed into the ceiling of Westport and into a lobby that was only barely vacant of panicked citizens trying to escape with their loved ones. This was a dear target, one of importance to ensure that the Imperial invasion had occurred and that not much could be done t stop it.

Death surely followed, very few had crawled out of the fire and debris ridden wreckage. and those that did were too badly injured and burnt to remain alive for long. Though their screams had filled the immediate area around them, catching the ears of the citizens that stopped for seconds to realize and watch in awe of what had just happened.

The thrum grew louder, the vibration stronger. The Imperial soldiers had broken through the Galactic Alliance Navy, lead a pathway by their fighters through the thick anti air defense, and lead them to terrorize the Westport station.

Aboard one of the dropships was a near-Crusader Acolyte, Vixur Kolvaar. the Anzat had learned enough to govern those skilled to be called Imperial soldiers. Watching as the thick black ropes descended through the whole that had been created. Adorned on him was his newly created lightsaber, his Armor of Blades, and his Obsidian sword that had seen already enough blood for four lifetimes.

Latching himself to the rope, he slid down to the surface. Sheer panic and fear had left the soldiers with a clear LZ, their shock-and-awe entrance leaving little opposition for them to safely come to the surface. Black ropes rained down onto the spaceport floor, dangling it's excess until each drop ship had emptied it's passengers and the thrum went silent.

The Anzat stood surrounded by Imperial soldiers.

A smile gripping his lips. "Coruscant shall fall here..."

 

[Lucid]

His vision half obscured by the framework of the ship's boarding ramp, Andreas lay sprawled on the cold durasteel floor of the spaceport. Slightly stunned after his fall it was a few moments before he remembered that he didn't actually need to see what was going on--in times of crisis he still managed to forget that he was no longer the unassuming young man that he had once been. The Force was a still a last resort for him; his lightsaber his last line of defense. Closing his eyes he exhaled slowly, shutting out the screams and shouts; slowly he inhaled drawing into his body the subtle energy of the Force. Second exhale; Force energy poured from his body, soaking into every person giving courage and clarity to the ones consumed by fear and panic, clouding the minds and sight of those who seemed too keen; too consumed by dire purpose.

From that perception he managed to draw himself a picture of immediate area. He noticed the person high up on the I-beams of the ceiling, the many Sith rappelling down from ships, the GA soldiers preparing to fight--and die--for the people of Courscant. It didn't take long for the young Jedi to figure out where to head. He trained his force perception on the clearest mind he could find and heaved himself to his feet, drawing in on his Force presence as he did so. Moments later he stood before a woman dressed as a GA trooper but with a most unusual weapon. Vibro-swords were most definitely not standard issue; but he ignored that for now; this woman felt cold and as hard as iron in his Force sense. She would be valuable in the battle that was coming.

"What's the GA planning," he asked from directly behind her.

 

[Maxx]

Laufeia Damion stood aboard one one many Imperial shuttles as it descended towards the surface of Coruscant. The Galactic Alliance Navy had been broken and now the Imperium poured onto it surface. All over the planet, key targets were being attacked by the Imperium and defended by an Alliance that would soon see its spirit broken and its remnants cast into the void of space to die. Her and another Sith had been assigned to that of the Westport Spaceport. The largest of its kind on Coruscant. What had surprised her about the other acolyte was that he was an Anzat.

Laufeia pushed out her thoughts of the future and focused on the present. Westport would fall and any GA defenders would be slain by either her hand or another's. The shuttle was beginning to drop speed as it came to the LZ. Ropes were attached and thrown out, Imperium soldiers rappelling down. She grabbed her own rope and jumped out of the shuttle. She landed crouching next to the other acolyte, and slowly stood up, taking her lightsaber of its hook. With a snap hiss the crimson blade came to life. The acolyte spoke, "Coruscant shall fall here..." "...and with it, the Galactic Alliance."

 

[Phil]

And so it has began.

LFN noticed the two Sith that had arrived, the crimson blade making it very clear at this point. It was unknown how many Alliance defenders were here, but if he played his cards right today, it would not matter. In a distance, he saw two individuals that were not all too bothered by the chaos or letting themselves be trampled. One looked like an Alliance soldier and that was all LFN needed to know as he took aim towards them with his Sniper Rifle, aiming upwards some instead of the cranium and over a light that was above them.

The shot rang out louder then normal firearms would, and he would be hot in a matter of moments. The shot raced across the plaza and slammed into the light above the two, shattering it as shards of glass and metal flew all around the area. He stood up and jumped off the perch he was resting on and down to the floor, landing ahead of the two Sith some as he crouched down, then rose to his feet as he put his rifle back on his back. In exchange, his two wrist blades shot out from his armor gauntlets, and stared ahead towards the Alliance soldier with the swords.

 

[Ender]

"What the kriff!?" Ruusan cried as she and the Jedi were showered in shattered glass. Her gloved hand covered her face, a few shards of glass cutting her arm. She ignored the minor pain, brushing herself off. "Damn snipers." Ruusan grunted, taking cover and facing the Jedi. "The Alliance's orders amount to 'Hold your position, get the civilians out, and hope for the best.' Ringing endorsements, eh?" the former Mandalorian cackled madly and she leaped over the barricade, firing her rifle madly into the hordes of Sith. "Come on you bastards, do you wanna live forever!?" she cried, wrapping the sling of her rifle tightly and drawing her sword with her off hand.By instinct, she switched to mando'a, charging forward. A stormtrooper came too close to the seemingly invincible warrior goddess and was met with the subsonic vibrations of her sword. He went down screaming, crimson blood splattering his gleaming white armor in stark contrast. "We gotta buy these civilians time!"

A Sith Acolyte charged her, his sword too high, leaving him wide open. She delivered a swift kick into his diaphragm, emptying his of air. This was followed quickly by a double tap into his cranium, and then was tossed aside. She began to leave a trail of bodies into the center of the Sith forces. She wasn't worried about the troopers and the Acolytes. She could hold her own against them. The crusaders though? Master level opponents? They were the problem...and then that sniper...

 

[Jiang Winters]

"Dex, how's the evac going? Did we get everyone?"

"Indeed, sir. All employees are accounted for. Most accepted transport with Juliet Hotel One-Two-Five and are..."

"You mean the Phoenix, right?"

The AI, annoyed by the interruption, warbled at its owner. "Yes, sir. The Phoenix. They are embarking now."

Delun nodded as he glanced at his wrist chrono. It was getting late - they were supposed to leave well over an hour ago, but the evacuation of Alda Industries' plant had taken longer than expected. Much of the delay was thanks to Coruscanti traffic. The skyways were jammed with people frantically scrambling to the nearest port in a desperate last-minute attempt to escape the Sith. They weren't particularly successful, and he pitied them. He didn't want to be caught under Imperial rule and had made arrangements to leave the moment it became apparent that the Alliance was collapsing. The Kushari pushed the thought from his mind, heaved his duffel over his shoulder, and pressed on through the crowd.

It'd become pretty hectic at Westport. In a way, it wasn't all that surprising. The place had always been a bustling hub of life and activity. It seemed fitting that it should be similarly packed when an entire city-planet was doing its damnedest to tear itself up by the foundations and haul tail. While he tried to politely nudge and excuse his way through the crowd, he largely abandoned niceties as the distant crack of blaster fire drew closer and closer. Eventually it seemed as if it were right atop him. Unnerved, he decided to simply press and shoulder his way through. He earned more than a few harsh words and threats from the people he forced aside, but it was worthwhile. The gates were just in sight; a young family was ahead of him, and had just been waved through by a trooper. Just a few more moments and he, too, would pass through.

The cat's hopes were cut short when shots rang out. The Alliance soldiers at the gate had opened fire on someone. He didn't know who or why, but he knew that standing tall was a foolish idea at best. He hit the deck - a civilian thought to do the same, but was a little too slow. As the man went to dive, a blaster rifle bolt caught him square in the back. The fellow screamed and crumpled to the ground alongside Delun. He wheezed and smoke rolled out his lips. The blaster rifle had charred and scorched its way into the man's lungs, and had reduced them to smoldering husks. His hand stretched out and grasped Delun's wrist tightly. His lips moved, but no words came. Within a few moments the civilian's face had drained of color, and his eyes glossed over soon after.

Another blast rang out before Del had even had a chance to process the man's death. A sniper's shot - it decimated a light fixture. What effects it had beyond that Delun did not notice nor care. The feline reached to his earpiece and activated it. "Dex, how long until everyone's families are settled?"

"Five minutes, sir."

Five minutes. In five minutes, a well-trained Imperial force could be knocking at the Phoenix's loading gate, gunning down the mates and children of his employees. But if he could stall them, even just for a minute...

"Dex, give me Broadsword. Calibrate HAIL for maximum effectiveness against plasteel and armorweave."

The suit of armor had been loitering just overhead ever since Delun had left his apartment. It dove for the duracrete pavement as soon as it was summoned, and landed in a low crouch just in front of its owner. It turned towards him and opened its front for boarding. He clambered to his feet and, abandoning his clothing duffel, jumped into the suit. It hissed shut and sealed him inside - not a second too soon, either.

An Imperial Stormtrooper was advancing towards him with his E-75 blaster rifle at the ready. The trooper's finger tightened on the trigger and Delun reacted. He thrust both palms out at the trooper; the thruster ports of his gauntlets glowed a hellish blue-white and whined, then discharged with an energetic bark. Twin pulsar blasts struck the trooper's chest and flung him several meters away. He landed with a smoldering pit in his armor and one or two cracked ribs, but was lucky enough to escape fatal injury.

Del curled his armor-clad fingers into fists and rose to his full height in-armor of 2.1 meters. He primed his thrusters and began actively scanning his environment for a target - all hell was breaking loose. An Alliance trooper had engaged the Imperials in hand-to-hand combat, Sith were fast-roping in from dropships, more civilians had been caught in the crossfire and shot to pieces, and bodies on all sides were piling up. He gritted his teeth and waded into the fray. One way or another, he'd stall them enough for his people to get off Coruscant. And maybe, if he was lucky, he'd get away too.

 

[Just Matt Now]

The near-Crusader relished in the fact the Westport was already in panic, and that their mere presence, the presence of Aith and Imperial troopers, would further drive them into madness. The thoughts of the Imperial soldiers lining up civilians only to gun them down, atrocities that even the Sith and Imperial soldiers could not imagine, running through the minds of those in panic. Extending his right arm and pointing, the gesture followed by the response of the Imperial troopers spreading out and creating a perimeter around the Sith Acolytes.

The soldiers moved with professionalism and experience. The soldiers clearing out the area, killing any civilian that was not fast enough to get away. The screams of panic and fear only fueling the imagination of Vixur. Then the shot rang out, louder than the ones that was coming from the Alliance soldiers. A single shot that got everyones attention. Vixur reaction turned his head, then again to where the glass had shattered. Highlighting the position of the main GA troops, glass shattering all around them.

Vixur then saw the Rodian who had shot the sniper, the attack was against the Jedi/GA and thus not a threat for the Imperium. Vixur would let the Rodian live, probably a bounty hunter of some sorts caught in Westport and seeing an opportunity. He would only aid their cause. Having the company of another Acolyte, Laufeia Damion, Vixur wished that he was a competent Sith.

"There! We have located the opposing forces. Let this bounty hunter bide their time. We must focus on the departing ships. Attack the nearest hangar, we will tear down the already shaken civilian activity."

The Anzat spotted the nearest point of interest. A shuttle that was being boarded. The Imperial trooper rushed the platform, the organization quickly collapsing as the sight of them became more aware. Corsec officers hurried to get the rest of the people on the ship before commanding it to take off. By the time the Imperial soldiers cleared the platform, killing any officer who dared get in their way, the shuttle had just taken off.

Having lead the groups, Vixur commanded a soldier to take aim. The Imperial soldier came forward, wielding a PLX-1 portable missile launcher. The rocket deployed, aimed for the shuttle that had just left. The missile struck the thruster of the ship, the explosion loud and debris falling everywhere. With it's left thruster completely on fire, the vessel shifted, crashing into the left side wall of the hangar, and killing all of its passengers.

 

[Phil]

"I shall do more then that."

LFN spoke, having heard the Crusader give orders to attack the ships. He targeted the Alliance Soldier with the blades and took a single step towards her before his body seemingly disappeared from the feet all the way to his head. He was still there, but hidden by the naked eye, detected no doubt by thermals or the magic the Sith and Jedi used as he ran towards Ruusan, blades at the ready. She was given a fair warning when the glow of his helmet visor and chest piece glowed brighter then usual when he got closer to her, a damned flaw in his armor that needed correcting. When he was only a few feet in front of her, he appeared out of nothing before her, blades ready as he swung them towards her, one going towards her neck and the other towards her abdomen area.

 

[Ender]

What in the hell was that damned glow? Oh shit... Ruusan rolled to her left just as the blades sliced through the air where she had just been. She let loose with a sustained burst of blaster fire as she roared furiously.The battery pack drained to zero and she tossed it behind her, the sling slamming it hard against her back. Whoever this guy was, he had picked the wrong enemy to fight. Trained since the age of 12 with a high pain tolerance and expert fighting skills, Ruusan was a Mandalorian. A living weapon. She glared intensely at her armored opponent, fixed her footing and awaited the next blow. "K'olar, utreekov! Gar nari be jare!" Come get me, moron! Your actions are that of an idiot!"​

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Across all means of communication, be they nearby HoloNet screens, personal communication devices, military communication systems, and more, a small hologram of the injured Alliance Chief of State, Nathanaeu Bastele, appeared before everyone who could see it. His face was shredded, with one of his eyes practically hanging from the socket. His body was torn apart, with his insides visible. It was a gruesome sight, showing just how bad the battle was. If the Chief of State could be this hurt, anyone could. Anyone could be killed.

But he had a message to send, one more important than what happened to him. It was garbled, with the chaos of the battle and Sith jammers preventing it from fully being reached, but there was enough to understand what Bastele was saying:

"This is Nathanaeu Bastele. A Sith warship… descending… Jedi Temple. I don’t know… planning but... If you can hear… evacuate or head underground… all costs. Coruscant… gone. The Alliance is falling. Save yourselves and… Force… with you."

With that, the transmission faded away. The end of the Alliance had come.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Life itself was dying. Coruscant, in this moment, was the closest any mortal would ever come to understanding what it would be like if Death reached out its cold hands and reaped the Force, or God, or nature, or whatever it was that made the universe spin. On the surface, and even in orbit, every living thing felt the destructive power of what the two tiny figures atop the hull of a Star Destroyer were doing. Life was being drained, sucked into the blackened and decrepit soul of a curse called Skywalker.

Those adept in history might have drawn a comparison to the ancient Dark Lord of the Sith called Darth Nihilus, a devourer of worlds, and life, and all the energy around him. Like that Dark Lord of old, Andraste was a wound in the Force, craving all of its energy and devastating everything in her path. No being escaped feeling its impacts; they felt drained, weak, like even the simplest of tasks required strength of herculean proportions. Escaping Coruscant, or even hiding, would feel like an eternity.

The planet itself was breaking. As the Empress drained the life and energy from all around her, the Dark Lord Vereor was ravaging the surface. A storm of pure Force energy was growing; lightning, real lightning and not artificially created from satellites, struck down from the clouds from all directions, in all streets and crevasses in the city, tearing swaths through buildings and dirt. The energies even reached into space, tearing apart ships and disrupting systems on so many others. The wind howled all through the sky, and tornadoes formed to destroy the artificial world that they were touching down on.

The temperature was dropping. At once it felt sickeningly hot but also colder than the snowy wastes of Hoth. The rain falling from the sky froze, turning into shards of ice as it fell, stabbing through the heads and bodies of countless thousands, if not more. The carefully constructed weather of the once-great capital of the Republic and the Alliance was torn asunder. The planet itself was now just as much the enemy of the Alliance as the Sith.

Yet at the center of all this madness was something beautiful. At the Jedi Temple, above which the Imperial Star Destroyer sat, a beautiful aurora was forming. Dark and dangerous energy collided into a green display of dancing lights, one that could have been a calming sight were it not for the life being drained from everything below it. At the core of this beauty, though, was something rotten, for the light was not a mere byproduct of the attack. It was the attack itself. The dark energies and lightning being displayed was the eldritch energy sucked into the very heart of this labyrinth by the Dark Lord himself, a reflection of the souls being sacrificed for more power.

Anyone with any sort of psychic awareness, be they Jedi or anyone even remotely attuned to the Force, could feel as those souls were taken and twisted into a dark purpose for which the Force should never have been used. It was a warning, a reminder of what the Chief of State said across the HoloNet.

Leave or die.

 

[Kaeb]

Westport
An hour before the Storm...​

Westport was ablaze. The hopes of a people seeking to flee the crisis that had fallen upon them had been all but torn asunder as the Empire bombarded the shipping yard with harrowing instruments of war. Simmering fires crept through melting metal and burning stone, edging towards those trapped in ruined halls and crippled buildings. Most of the scene was obscured by the black smoke vomited forth by the flames, set aglow by rapid blaster fires that erupted from all directions, chaos had come to port. The air itself stank of rotting meat, threatening to suffocate anyone who wasn't trained in acts of combat, like the men and women of the Alliance who sought to protect any they could from the onslaught of the invading armies. Despite their efforts, the Empire and Sith were relentless, Mandalorians were even scattered among their forces, ravaging the landscape with their impending conquest and seemingly endless determination. The structures of flaming buildings seemed to wail under the pressure of the weight that crumbled above them, as the landscape itself threatened to kill anyone in it's path. Through the fog of war, more ships could been seen arriving to join the ensuing battle, but none could determine which side they might be on, if they had even taken aside.

Five ships circled the large spaceport, all of them resembling large freighters that had fallen into evident disrepair. Their engines appeared to be cumbersome as their paths were clearly erratic, but they still managed to maintain a stable altitude as they opened all rear hatches to reveal their interiors. Whisper mouthed orders into her ships comm station, ordering the droid monitoring her fleet of illegally salvaged sewage treatment vessels - known by the droid as the Orchestra - to land as many ships as they could around the vicinity of the battle so they might aid those seeking to retreat from the chaos that had engulfed them. The cruelty of the conflict was readily apparent as men, women and children ran rampant throughout the fires and combat incursions. Some narrowly avoiding death, others lost through their own lack of fortune or foresight. And yet, the ships still sank towards the surface, until finally landing among the largest concentration of Alliance soldiers. This time she didn't exit the vessel as she had before when rescuing those at Monument Plaza, instead she turned to the comm station once more and began broadcasting on all available frequencies.

''Attention all Alliance soldiers, devotees and civilians.
This is your Guardian Angel speaking.
If you can walk, I need you to run.
If you have strength left, I need you to carry anyone you can.
Five ships have touched down at the South of Westport.
If you wish to flee so that you might fight another day...
...now is your chance.
We're leaving in 5.
Guardian Angel out.''
​

Deactivating the communications broadcast, she took a deep breath and began counting down the minutes. Hope remained, despite all the chaos, it remained.