Ask The Retaliation

Ronan

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Somewhere in Chiss Space, the Unknown Regions
Distinction and honor. These were the qualities that laid ahead of them today, that hinged on their success. Victory or loss would dictate their story, and the defeated were rarely memorialized in the annals of history.

The story of the vanquished was always one most pitiable, of commiseration. One could applaud their bravery in the face of defeat and regret the loss of life at their last stand, but that was all. A name on a gravestone, only to be forgotten the very next day.

Ronan did not desire pity, and he did not want to die alongside the vanquished. He wanted to live among the vanquishers, those who fought until victory was within their grasp and would settle for nothing less. History would look kindly on them, and they would not be reduced to men most pitiable in the eyes of their descendants.

This was the beginning for Ronan. His first of—hopefully—many battles.

Admiral Huri’soket’cin was in a particularly difficult situation, one that he would never have been able to resolve if it were not for the Sith. Ronan did not like the Admiral, one of the many superiors who'd spurned his attempts at advancement over the years.

Even Ronan, however, could appreciate the unique position the Admiral had been placed in. With a daughter of his own, Ronan was able to imagine all too well the suffering these pirates had put the aged Admiral in. He'd practically groveled at the feet of Sah'ra Ryun, begging her to save his daughter.

Of course, had the Admiral practiced what he preached, he would never have been put into this predicament, and his daughter's fate would not rest in the hands of pirates and thieves. The Admiral's hypocrisy knew no bounds, and Ronan would gladly have released his pent up frustration on the man if the opportunity ever presented itself.

Hands pressed behind his back, Ronan let out a long sigh. He stood in the bridge of the Nesuto Class Carrier, watching the expanse of space that stretched before him. The Chiss had navigated the Sith fleet through the Unknown Regions to Chiss Space, per their agreement.

Now it was time to see what the Sith Empire and its forces were capable of.

@Sin

 

Kal Thule

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Nesuto-class Combat Carrier, Dauntless, Transport Hangar
Chiss Space, Unknown Regions
24 standard hours after completing 2nd in-garrison cycle on Taris, 146 ABY

This was only his second deployment with Isk Company, but it was the first time—according to all the chatter from his comrades—that they'd operated without one of their sister companies, Grek or Herf. It didn't seem unusual to Kal, but some of the more seasoned troopers were concerned about the extra room they'd made for the Chiss that were onboard the Dauntless with them. It was intriguing to see how superstitious soldiers could be about all manners of things. Granted, the Chiss people were stooped in mystery, regardless—from where Kal was sitting—there was no reason to count your nunas before they hatched. No doubt, the Chiss would do their part and so would the Empire.

The mission screamed hostage rescue based off of everything that had been briefed thus far, but the scheme of maneuver still hadn't been laid out. If it had, Thule's platoon leader, nor his sergeant, had spoken anything of it up until now. This was unusual to the soon-to-be Corporal Thule, considering Isk Company was already in the hangar getting staged for the assault.

He could only speculate, but Kal assumed this meant that the Chiss would be determining the course of action to discharge the commander's intent. There was no other logical explanation, he could think of, for why they were this far into pre-mission preparations and the roles and responsibilities hadn't been clearly defined.

"This is a load of bull," one of his squad mates from 2-2 blabbed, "how are we supposed to get ready if we don't know what we're getting ready for?"

The troubled trooper had earned a reputation for being a complainer. It was a running joke within the squad. A joke that Kal was now in on since he'd earned his place in the platoon after surviving Dantooine and the fiasco they'd just left on Taris. Still, he wouldn't dare partake in the banter due to the fact that he was still one of the most junior members in the whole platoon.

That being the case, Thule just smirked and shook his head dismissively as he continued to inspect his helmet before placing it over his freshly shaven head and face. His eyes scanned the HUD on the other side of the pitch black visor, checking all of its functions. Satisfied, now he needed to do a comms check. Looking back over at the rest of the squad, he was disappointed that none of them had their helmets on yet.

"I'm up," Thule's modulated voice garnered their attention, "can I get a comms check?"

 
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Ronan

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The Nesuto Class Carrier floated effortlessly through the atmosphere of Rentor, cutting through gasses and aerosols too miniscule for the human eye to see. As the Sith fleet cut through a low asteroid field, each vessel was pulled into the planet's gravitational field.

Below, Rentor was now visible. Massive oceans stretched out across its surface, littered with icebergs older than all of these soldiers put together. The Chiss Ascendency had colonized the planet centuries ago, establishing settlements atop the ice covered planet. It was a harsh environment, and not for the faint of heart. Over the years these colonies had grown, a select few managing to evolve from huts and camp side fires to durasteel cities with all of the latest amenities.

Ters'onan was one of the icy planet's more prominent and successful cities, and currently, it was home to one of the original Nine Ruling Families. The only Ruling Family that mattered today—the family responsible for the kidnapping of Admiral Huri’soket’cin's daughter.

Beside the Sith armada cruised one of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force's finest fleets, Admiral Huri’soket’cin in the lead. This mission was personal for the Admiral, and it was personal for Ronan.

The Lieutenant Commander sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders taught and straight. Today would define his career. This battle would either be the making of the Chiss, or the breaking of him.

He stood before a precipice unlike any he had faced before. Before now, his career had been full of skirmishes with pirates and rebellious Chiss. Small potatoes, as one might put it.

Today would be a real battle, and it was time to begin.

The Chiss turned on his heel, marching toward the hangar to join the Sith Company he would accompany to the surface.

@Sin
 
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Kal Thule

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Approaching Ters'onan, AAL-1971/9.1 Troop Transport, AL
Rentor, Chiss Space, Unknown Regions
25 standard hours after completing 2nd in-garrison cycle on Taris, 146 ABY

Imperial starfighters escorted the transports through the skies of Rentor in a wedge formation. 2nd Platoon was divided between two ALs—the name the IAC had given the shuttles that delivered them to their planetside objectives. There were nearly two dozen bodies packed into the main compartment waiting for the forward ramp to drop down so they could start ground pounding.

Chiss soldiers, from their own Defense Force, were occupying the cabin with the rest of the Corps assaulters. One of them, presumably an officer, was directly across from Kal Thule. Through observations while embarking the vessel prior to being deployed from the Dauntless, Kal reckoned the man was a leader among his kinsfolk that accompanied him.

He didn't stand out in the way that Imperial officers tended to, instead...the red-eyed man carried on with a firmness of purpose. That blue skin, Kal gleaned, was painted over the fiery red flesh of the wild fire that burned in front of him—warming the face of his helmet. It felt no different, no less real, than the flames that engulfed the Jedi's base on Dantooine after Darth Raze had ceremoniously set it ablaze. Kal braced, as he admired the man, careful not to let the turbulence that jostled the transport disrupt the transfer of rhydonium that he was siphoning from the Chiss warrior and pumping into his own veins.

Now there were two of them...two vassals of the Empire. They would be just as dangerous as the starship fuel—that Kal imagined was coursing through them both—to any opposition that dared come into contact with them. Together, they could not fail. And so together, they should remain...

Kal gave an affirming nod to the seemingly indomitable Chiss, hoping that the anonymity of his duraplast armor did not keep him from standing out. If at all possible, the Private would endeavor to stay close to him when the battle started. It would be an honor to fight alongside such an individual that existed with such purpose, such determination. Thule had to see him—no, them—through...to whatever lay at the end of the path that his new ally seemed so solidly set upon.

 
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Ronan

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The Nesuto Class Carrier housed six shuttles in its hangar, but only two would be utilized today. There was safety in numbers, but six shuttles would not be subtle and would garner too much attention. This mission was meant to be under the radar.

No doubt the citizens of Ters'onan and their planetary defenses had already spotted the approaching Sith Empire and Chiss Expansionary Defense Force Armadas, but with a little luck the shuttles would go unnoticed in all of the chaos. While planetary defenses busied themselves firing upon the larger vessels, two shuttles would sneak unnoticed to the surface below.

Once they landed, their mission was simple. Disarm the planetary shields. Simple in purpose, but not simple in execution. Rarely were missions simple in execution, and today would be no exception.

The descent toward Rentor was rocky and uncomfortable, and turbulence rocked the shuttle back and forth. Men swayed against one another, each keenly aware of the tight quarters. Ronan just hoped no one would get sick.

His gaze passed over the men, evaluating the Sith Soldiers with a critical stare. Red eyes fell onto one in particular, the soldier directly across from him. The two soldiers exchanged glances, offering one another a nod.

Suddenly and without warning, the shuttle shook violently. Metal tore and scraped against the side of the shuttle, and the vessel spun uncontrollably to the right. A planetary turret had opened fire on the shuttle, and the result was disastrous. The shuttle lost power, the red glow of flickering emergency lights now their only light source.

From the cockpit of the transport, various alarms and beeps sounded. Lights flashed across the control panel, and the pilot clung to the controls of the ship with white knuckles in a desperate attempt to land.

"Brace yourselves!" the pilot's voice sounded over the alarms, his voice shaky and unsure.

Ronan did just that, tightening his hold on one of the many straps that hung from the ceiling as his red eyes flickered to the man across from him.

The entire ship shook violently as it tore through snow and ice. Their covert mission was not off to a good start.

@Sin
 
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Kal Thule

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15 klicks SSW of Ters'onan, AL Crash Site
Rentor, Chiss Space, Unknown Regions
25 standard hours after completing 2nd in-garrison cycle on Taris, 146 ABY

"Brace yourselves!" was the least colorful thing Thule heard as the AL prematurely pitched downward toward the gelid surface of Rentor. The cabin was a cacophony of curse words that would've been an inglorious song if sung by a choir at their funerals. Fortunately, that would not be the case today.

Unfortunately, however, they were on their own. The other half of 2nd Platoon was forced to pull out due to restrictive casualties, sustained from the same anti-air artillery, which threatened to disable their own transport if they did not withdraw. They were being escorted back to the Dauntless, that was now engaged in a skirmish overhead and incapable of providing any support due to the deflector shield generator located in Ters'onan.

Disabling the generator had been the objective all along, but now...now it was their ticket off of this winter wasteland. If that wasn't motivation to succeed, then Holy Stars help us all, Thule thought to himself as he climbed up the forward disembarkation ramp. The snow that piled up in front of the ship while it skied across the icy terrain was preventing the door from fully functioning. The snow...it would seem...was both a blessing and a curse. Were it not for the powder pillowing their crash landing, the situation could've been much more grim.

"Get a self check and a buddy check," his sergeant demanded, "and set security once you're outside."

"Roger that." Thule responded as he was wedging himself through the man-sized gap between the ramp and the rest of the AAL-1971. Clawing at the snow, he pulled himself out and up to his feet. He wasn't the first to exit the vessel, there were a few troopers that were already working on establishing a perimeter. Kal joined them, filling a void off of the AL's starboard side.

Taking a knee and shouldering his rifle, he simultaneously scanned his HUD and the area within his sector—attempting to orient himself with their objective. Ahead of him, more than a dozen kilometers off in the distance, he could see the salient silhouette of Ters'onan through the wintry haze that undoubtedly plagued the entire planet.

"We've got eyes on the objective out here," Thule reported through his comlink, careful to maintain his watch and keep a look out for potential scout parties that might move to investigate the crash site.

 

Ronan

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The crash had left Ronan dazed and disoriented on the hard, metal floor of the shuttle. Crawling to his knees, he followed the example of the others, squeezing through the gap between the ramp and the body of the shuttle. The planet's bright white surface was a stark contrast to the deep, permeating darkness of space. The Chiss Lieutenant blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting.

Ice cold snow crept through the lining of his gloved fingers, and the wind that swept across the frozen tundra cut right through clothing.

"We've got eyes on the objective out here" cut through the static of the comlink, the first intelligible communication since the bombardment had struck. Ronan moved toward the speaker, his hands reaching for the electrobinoculars stored inside his travelling bag. Red eyes strained to see through the lens, eventually focusing on the objective that laid ahead of them.

12 kilometers stood between them and the deflector shield generator, give or take. Time was of the essence. Until that generator was disabled or destroyed, their fleets were dead in the air. Their own defense shields would only last so long under the constant fire of planetary turrets and turbolasers.

This entire mission hinged on their success, and now so did their survival.

"The shield generator will be located on the outskirts of town," Ronan stated, shoving the electrobinoculars back into his bag. "Once we get closer, it shouldn't be difficult to locate it."

Getting past its defenses will be the hard part, he thought to himself, his brow creasing. "Now that they know we're here, they'll be ready and waiting for us." He scanned the wreckage with a critical eye. "We shouldn't waste any more time. They might send scouts to search for survivors."

And eliminate them.

@Sin
 
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Kal Thule

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2 klicks SSW of the shield generator, Ters'onan outskirts
Rentor, Chiss Space, Unknown Regions
26 standard hours after completing 2nd in-garrison cycle on Taris, 146 ABY

It was truly an amazing thing, adrenaline, how it could allow you to push through stressful and demanding situations. How incredible would it be, if one could tap into such power on command, vice waiting for your transport to get blasted out of the sky?

Kal's neck was sore... The snow and wind biting his armor wasn't helping matters. His bodysuit was supposed to help regulate his own core temperature, but up against the Rentor climate, it apparently had its limits. Limits that the prospective Corporal hadn't experienced up until now.

Still, despite the cold and despite the aching in his muscles and bones, he'd managed to perspirate—the suit wicking the moisture from his body, only to allow the weather's mood to turn it into frost once outside. Footslogging their way across the tundra had taken its toll on many of them, they'd stopped a couple of times to make sure everyone was still okay. How in the heck, Kal wondered, were their Chiss counterparts keeping up? They weren't clad in protective gear that shared any resemblance to that of the Imperial Assault Corps ensemble that had been freshly coated in white, just for this mission. And yet, they seemed to be managing just fine without it.

As he'd promised himself before the crash, Thule kept as close to Commander Ronan as he could. He hadn't gotten more than a dozen paces away from the Chiss since they'd stepped off. Rubbing his neck periodically, hoping to massage away the strain undoubtedly sustained during their plummet to the surface, Kal admired the Commander and his people's toughness. Their tenacity, he acknowledged, was par excellence. If any of them were experiencing symptoms of fatigue, their faces had done a good job of exhibiting no such signs...

"No helmet, sir?" Private Thule broke the silence, giving in to his own curiosity and addressing Commander Ronan during their march.

They were near side by side with one another now. Kal might've turned his head toward the Chiss man completely, for a moment, if stiffness hadn't limited its range of motion, and if he hadn't been focused on the objective—scanning for threats. They had been trudging along for almost an hour now. The outskirts of Ters'onan, where the shield generator lay, would soon be within effective firing range. This meant, they too, would soon be in effective firing range. If we aren't already... Thule speculated, his eyes scouring the horizon and target area with unadulterated scrutiny.

 
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Ronan

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"To be honest with you, Corporal, I'm starting to rethink my decision," Ronan replied, his tone lighthearted as he smiled over at the Sith soldier, but his words rung true. The wind was beyond brutal. This was a frozen wasteland, and the civilizations that had cropped up here were nothing short of an incredible feat. Ronan had visited the planet before, but he did not remember it being this cold. Obviously, his memory had failed him. Prior visits had been confined to the settlements perched atop icebergs, where fires and heaters lined the streets and centralized heating warmed the buildings. They were in the wilderness now, and it offered them not a shred of warmth or comfort.

The Chiss clenched his fingers, a feeble attempt to ward off the cold that seeped through his gloves and bit away at his skin. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, his red eyes scanning his Sith and CEDF companions. The ankle deep snow was slowing them down, but there was no other alternative but to continue their half-hearted trudge.

He followed the Corporal's gaze, to the outskirts of Ters'onan just on the horizon. He was right to keep his gaze focused there, and Ronan did the same. "Keep your eyes peeled," one of the CEDF officers advised. "They could open fire—" Fortuitously, shots rang out in quick succession, their echo carried on the wings of the wind. Red blaster bolts riddled the ground around them, disrupting snow and sending it cascading down. Two CEDF soldiers dropped, falling to the ground—either unconscious or dead.

"Take cover!" the same officer yelled out again, as if the command even needed to be uttered. In a frozen tundra, cover was scarce, but men were already scrambling for whatever cover they could find. Ronan latched on to the wrists of the fallen Chiss soldier closest to him, dragging him behind a snowdrift.

They were pinned down, unable to advance unless they picked off those snipers. To make matters worse, the wind had picked up. Snow was beginning to fall, fresh flakes dusting the ground and their armor. They brushed against faces and caught on eyelashes, an ever present reminder of their predicament. It could only mean one thing, and it wasn't good: a fast approaching snowstorm. If they didn't reach their objective soon, they would be stranded in the middle of a snowstorm, completely unprotected from the elements.

Pulling a standard issue CEDF rifle from his back, Ronan rolled out from behind the snowdrift and began to return fire. All he could do was hope that a few of his shots found their target.

@Sin

 
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Ronan

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There was an old adage that officers within the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force were fond of using, and they never missed an opportunity to remind their subordinates of—"To win any battle, you must fight as if you are already dead."

These words did not pass between the soldiers huddled together in the ice and snow, staring down the barrels of long range rifles, but they lived in the hearts and minds of every man and woman gathered. They faced their own mortality and didn't back down for even a second, not daring to shirk their duties and the oaths they had sworn.

From the greenhorn soldiers to their veteran superiors, they abandoned the safety of the snowdrift and charged the deflector shield generator head-on. Snipers provided cover, while troopers sliced their way into security with the use of scrambler keys.

Once inside, they overrode the mainframe's security protocols and deactivated the city's deflector shields.

The city of Ters'onan was left defenseless, primed and waiting for the Sith Empire's fleet to open fire. Open fire they did, bombarding its snow covered streets and peppering skyscrapers with turbo lasers until nothing was left but ash and smoldering durasteel.

The city of Ters'onan had been leveled. Admiral Huri’soket’cin relished in the sweet taste of revenge, and the Chiss population would not forget the power the Sith Empire had displayed that day.

/ end of thread
Wrapping this thread up, per @Tulos request :)
 
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