Log:First Order: Defending the Yard
Preparations had been going on throughout the day at shipyard TA-5547, based on intelligence that First Order secret operatives had been relaying throughout the past week. Encrypted data had been steadily arriving bits and pieces at a time over the past few days until they had ceased all at once.
No one needed to be told for most to know that the First Order Spies had likely been caught. That fact alone leading toward some doubt as to the reliability of the information that they had received. But the Order knows their enemy to be desperate and blinded by their desire for vengeance. That, coupled with a limited time frame is enough to secure the chain of command’s go ahead to proceed with the data as it was known. The attack is coming tonight.
And so the troops have gathered, hidden away inside of the cavernous building that once housed the factory line that fueled the YT-1300 manufacturing process, and has since been repurposed to build elite TIE fighters. All around the forty some-odd Vanguard soldiers and few Knights of Ren, the sound of production continues. Huge industrial presses steadily stamp out parts and pieces while in another area of the factory droid arms weld and force them together.
Gazing around the factory, listening to trooper chatter over the helmet comms, Hadrix stands. Blaster rifle held at low ready he stands still, watching the area with a slow moving gaze while awaiting orders from the Knights.
"Corellia. Why is it always Corellia?" Oran, one of the aforementioned smattering of Knights of Ren, is regarding the factory before them with supreme exasperation, and it's also reflected in the dry, Coruscanti-accented tone of his words. "I need pants so fancy I expect the entire galaxy to know what the stripes mean? Corellia. No one else could possibly make a basic, uninspired ale as good as mine? Corellia. I'm a rugged individualist benefiting constantly and permanently from a hegemony granting me legitimacy and protection? Corellia, Corellia, Corellia. Our spies are probably dead, is there any particular reason we can't shut off production, gas this entire facility with toxins, and hire a new workforce to make the TIEs?"
"The attack is coming tonight," Kylo announces to the group, through the processed voice of his helmet. "The Corellians have a long and storied tradition of misguided determination. There were already riots when I destroyed this facility a few months ago. The whole planet would rise up if we gassed the workers." The chrome lines of the helmet glint in the light of the massive panels overhead. "The engineering corporation is part of their identity. And they do make decent ships," the Supreme Leader admits grudgingly, gloved fists balling up at his sides.
Urban environment, captured spies and hostiles to wipe out. It was a familier song for EM-1710, or Emma as she'd come to be known. This time however, the blonde sniper wasn't tasked with rescue of others. "It doesn't matter," she speaks in her accented tones, rifle resting at the ready. "We will track them down and remove them whereever they decide to hide." She looks down, checking her sniper rifle once more before nodding to the other troopers and glancing at Oran. "Recruitment would cause delays anyway. Hard to get good help, no?"
Watchful, waiting. Even breaths ebb and flow from Artemis' lips as her gaze flickers at random vectors about the factory floor and its likely incursion points. She stands at the taller trooper's flank, weight shifting from foot to foot with a gentle rhythm hidden behind the molded armored plates that hide the details of her humanoid form. The muzzle of her weapon waits with baited breath directed at the floor lest her extended index finger neglect to respect the trigger guard and prematurely unleash the superheated plasma contained within.
Somewhere else in the facility, far away from the area that is soon to be the site of the squashing of an uprising is Brand Zyrra. He is watching a bank of monitors along with several other First Order security specialists far more skilled in the art than himself. He stands back, pointing toward a few monitors and barking out orders for the First Order soldier to switch to an exterior feed of the facility. Soon, he speaks into the closed comm circuit that all First Order and Knight personnel had been given earlier in the day, "Alright. So be advised. The limited details that we have regarding this attack says that there will be two waves. A small squadron of inferior fighter ships have been sourced from the local crime syndicate. They are going to be using these to attempts and soften the building while their ground troops attempt to smash in and make away with some highly valuable tech and schematics to sell to other parties not partial to our goals."
Brand's voice trails away abruptly before it is back in a much quieter tone, as if somehow the enemy might hear him, "And there they are." Soon the scream of fighter engines can be heard and the walls shake as a few shots are fired from the lead fighters, crashing into the duracrete walls that house the giant main doors. "EM-1710. Make your way to the roof. Your assistance can help some of our TIE's repel the aerial attack. Ground forces, that door is coming down soon..."
Another few slams rock the building, sending dust falling from the ceiling and then with a wrenching boom, one heavy industrial door is knocked free to hang awkwardly from the hinges and in storms the first five civilian attackers.
Returning Emma's nod after the Supreme Leader finishes, looking to the others while checking his HUD systems. When the doors open and civillians charge, Hadrix's instincts take over. Dropping to one knee he calls out over the stormtrooper comms **"First line kneel! Fire by ranks!"** and he begins firing aiming for the the leader of the civillian charge.
"Do we /need/ Corellia?" is Oran's follow up question to not being able to gas everyone in the near vicinity. Upgrade, just kill the people who are rioting too! His tone suggests that it's rhetorical, and he's resigned to an attack against just these particular people, where they are now, with a disappointing lack of collateral damage. One hand reaches out, and he aims to finish the job on the civilian anarchist Hadrix just shot, a quick clean snap to the neck. Easy, painless…
"We need all the core worlds to bring peace to the galaxy," Kylo's vocoded voice replies, watching with mild disinterest as the civilian terrorists burst into the facility, not making any moves to engage or even give orders to do so. "Correlia is not optional. You are, though." Switching over to comms, the Supreme Leader asks, "Any sign of the fighters?"
Emma Starflare nods, the voice in her ear leading the woman to nod once to the other troopers and knights before her cloak engages and she peels away. "Inbound, but my rifle will not penetrate the shields of an active fighter. I'll have to wait for them to disembark." With that, she's headed to the roof.
Artemis' ears perk as the shrill, avian call of a fly by plays harbinger to the crunch of metal. Instinctively her head turns to the source of the noise in time to watch the breach form and assailants spill out like gizka from an infested freighter. She doesn't require Hadrix's signal to snap in to action but it gives her a basic, coordinated line to follow in the heat of the moment. A quick step to the side is followed by the dropping of a knee perpendicular to her firing line. Her other leg rests akimbo, pointed towards the targets to provide a space against which to rest the weight of her elbow.
"Roger," Artemis acknowledges distantly as she settles in as part of the phalanx within arm's reach of the black-clad trooper. Sighted, her blaster rifle whines as the coiled capacitors come to life but she doesn't have the chance to pull the trigger before the civilian crumples under the weight of the telekinetic assault. She winces but the gesture is lost behind the anonymous sheen of her darkened visor as she reactively noses the barrel towards another target. The motion is too quick and undisciplined, sending the bolt short of the mobile target.
When Emma makes her way to the roof of the facility, she will find a large anti-aircraft rifle mounted to the duracrete roof. A large weapon, the rifle must be shot from the tripod it is mounted to and possesses a computer interface for targeting rather than a scope. No sooner does Kylo pose his question regarding the fighters then Emma can see them dropping through the atmosphere and approaching the shipyard at a fast clip. They are soon met by a squadron of First Order TIEs that attempt to harry them from attacking the building.
Down below, civilian terrorists continue to pour through the fallen door. The lead man is blasted back into his fellows, and before he can right himself, Oran finishes him with a resounding crack of bone. This causes no small amount of surprise from those still pushing their way forward, but as they find the First Order troops laying in wait, they fire lift their rifles to fire back.
"Five enemy fighters inbound. Headhunters mostly with one Starchaser," Brand says into the comms. "Around twenty ground troops pushing their way in."
Growing familiar with what it is to work with the Knights, when his target's neck twists and he drops, Hadrix moves to the next target he can draw sights on. When the blaster bolt strikes him he shifts with a grunt, twisting his body with the impact - letting the plate and the bodyglove disperse the shot as best as it can, but he still suffers a hefty burn and bruising. The thrill of combat, the adrenaline from his injury, and the smell of his own burning skin seems to have spurred him ever on. Shifting himself and re-shouldering his weapon Hadrix opens fire again. The bolt strikes true, across the distance, coring a scorched hole through the man's neck, sending him flailing to the ground to jerk several times before laying still. **"Enemy down."**
Oran casts the Supreme Leader a look as it's made clear that they can't do without Corellia... they can do without a certain Coruscanti Knight. He knows better than to backtalk, especially as shots start flying, one of which skims his shoulder and grazes a burn there. "That's Muunilinst synthsilk, show me some respect," he gasps at their foes, aghast, AGHAST, that they've now burned a small hole in next season's finest. Both hands reach out next, and he closes his eyes, face shadowed as his hood dips forward. "I can give them an impediment... for a time. Troopers, please aim precisely." Oran clenches his fists and the debris near the door starts to rise, hard and fast and with no regard for the terrorists it may be harming or blocking. Pieces of building from small pebble like bits of wall to the door itself to massive chunks of infrastructure move into place, providing an obstacle for the invaders. Debris moves just slightly enough not to make good cover, making clear shots for the Vanguard as the attackers have to contend with this new problem.
The man in the silvered helmet finally steps forward from behind the firing line, the singed black robes he wears wrapping him tightly as he strides out in front of the stormtroopers. A blaster bolt sails by his hood, and a gloved hand lashes out like a punch. One of the terrorists is ripped from the factory floor and sails through the air as if jerked backward by an invisible wire, thrown against a far wall at a speed that can only be described as unsafe. The body flops to the floor as Kylo continues on his walk, heading straight for the nearest door. The entrances are barricaded, but that doesn't seem to matter as the portal flies open and the Supreme Leader exits with a loud, crunchy "I leave the rest to you." Good luck!
"One," Artemis sighs out from underneath an exhaled breath as the bolt from her blaster fails to crash in to flesh; armored or otherwise. Her brow furrows invisibly behind plate and visor. The air she swallows smells of dust and reeks of scorched effluvium made further acrid by the bouquet of burned flesh provided by Hadrix's wound. Void of empathy, she does not turn to assess the man's injury and instead hunches to the side with a hand splayed out on the duracrete to narrowly avoid return fire.
Incensed, Artemis grinds her teeth and rights herself with a forceful shove of a hand. Her rifle's barrel mirrors her lethal intentions and fixates itself on responding to the attack in kind. With breath held to steady against her own biology, the trigger is squeezed and her revenge comes to fatal fruition. Behind the anonymizing visage of her helmet, the edges of the woman's lips twitch in to a toothless smile.
Emma was no wielder of the force, but sometimes? It seemed like it was looking out for her. The anti-armor rifle? That has the woman smiling. Her gloved hands trace over the weapon before she lifts it, clicking the tripod into place. <<I have found an alternative," she speaks over her comlink before clicking the safety of the weapon and letting its systems synch with her suit's tracking system. "Well now, how pretty you are..." With the weapon balanced, she slips into position and turns her eye towards the twisting ballet of dueling fighters.
A breath, a squeeze, the deafening retort of the cannon fills the air as her shot crosses the sky and finds its mark. A flash and joint where one headhunter's wing meets the body is no more the fighter goes out of control in an instant, spinning from above till it comes crashing into a nearby building.
As Oran focuses his attunement with the force, that rubble and debris from the crashed in door begin to rise once more into the air to block the way for the attackers. One heavy piece of metal catches one man half inside of the portal and half out, crushing the man against the wall and soon snuffing out the cries of pain that fill the air. Those who have already made it inside are caught in with the First Order and Knights, and those outside think twice about entering, some already turning to discretely flee from the shipyard.
Hadrix and Artemis kill another two of the terrorists, and those who still have the courage to attempt and get inside are forced to do so through the twisted metal and rock, making them quite easy targets.
Outside of the building, the TIE fighters continue to chase the enemy fighters, keeping them busy enough that very few shots actually get off in their effort to weaken the structural integrity of the building. Blasts of green laser energy fires out from two of the TIE's, scoring direct hits on a like number of their enemies, while Emma on the roof manages to blast the wing from another with the large anti-aircraft weapon she has control of above.
Continuing to fire, Hadrix shifts his posture slightly, firing in a crouch, **"Fire and advance. Force them back."** Looming to his feet, shifting for tactical spacing as he starts forward, firing into the insurgents now forced to weave through stone and metal. He ducks as blaster fire comes his way, snarling silently behind his helmet before returning fire on his assailant bringing about a scream of pain as blood begins to poor, too much damage to fully cauterize.
"AGH!" The good thing about standing there using your brain to form debris into a mobile barrier is that it impedes the enemy and helps your friends. The bad thing about it is that you're just standing there. Oran is a good target and one of the insurrectionists takes advantage of it, shooting him straight in the torso, near the clavicle, a deeply nasty wound that surprises an unhealthy wet sounding cough. The pieces of building and debris drop as his concentration is broken, sending up a cacophony of noise and a cloud of dust. "Bloody kriffing hell," Oran wheezes, gathering focus again to throw a support beam at one of the civilians. "That's... going to be.... so expensive."
It was quite the upgrade, even if it wasn't to her usual preference of high mobility. Emma couldn't reposition and she couldn't cover the others dealing with the terrorists, she'd simply have to leave that up to the Knights and troopers to handle...but she could keep these fighters at bay. Another breath, a gentle adjustment and another calculation, her finger squeezes the trigger and another bolt lances across the sky to catch the cockpit of a banking Headhunter, leaving only twisted glass and metal where the pilot had been moments ago before the ship begins to fall from the sky.
"On your niner," Artemis responds to Hadrix's signal and rises to her feet in time with Hadrix's change in posture. The metronome-like quality of her footfalls is only interrupted when blaster fire crashes in to her shoulder. The blow staggers the female trooper for a moment and the muzzle of her own weapon falls from the horizon line for a fraction of a heartbeat. A flash of pain and a grunt are all that she can manage for that split second as the signal from her brain to her arm finds itself lost in the discord of the usual primal chemical response.
With an effort, Artemis suppresses the shake in her steadying arm as best she can. Her glove whines with the strain but the noise is lost in the din as the trigger is squeezed once more.
"Two," Artemis counts as the bolt misses her target. Her words are full of too much air as if she's out of breath but it's not fatigue that mutes her words. Instead, it's the weight of failure that cuts short her voice and the mental account that she would have to balance later in self-inflicted punishment.
Hadrix's plan seems to be working as the other Troopers begin to push forward at his instruction. Slowly the troopers push what terrorists remain back toward the entrance, which is blocked by the hill of rubble that Oran had created. Screams and pained yells fill the air in a slowly dwindling volume as more and more terrorists fall to First Order blaster fire as they are forced back with no cover, left to try and fight or turn tail and try to force their way back through the tight obstacle course of debris to get out. The largest, that still seems to be barking orders out to his fellows and trying to instill some combat order is caught by that heavy metal beam Oran slings, the business end of which tears away the light armor across his left shoulder and leaves a bloody mess as the arm sags. That isn't enough to keep him from lifting his weapon to fire, the last few doing the same, for what other choice do they have?
Topside, Emma downs another of the fighters, and the First Order TIE's manage to fell the last. The skies are clear, and the building is not caving in any time soon.
The beam sent by the sorcery of the knights catches Hadrix's attention and his rifle shifts to follow its' trajectory. He tracks fire to any of the traitors that look to be in any sort of command, looking to put them down to erradicate the resolve their subordinates. **"Continue ranked fire, save at least one commander if you can, for questioning, the others... no need."** his tone, even over the comms, cold and analytical.
Oran Arcantael bleeds. He's bleeding a lot. If ever there were rumors that the Knights are difficult to kill, he's doing his part to put that to rest, but at least he's still alive now, still on his feet, sending another hand reached out with invisible force toward one of the terrorists. This time, it's more debris, falling on the unlucky terrorist soldier to pin him to the ground, and maybe break a few bones. "Leave that one," he gasps an order, "We'll have a friendly chat later. Kill the others. Kill them all."
If Artemis feels particularly strongly about the directive offered and its mortal consequences, she doesn't voice it. Instead, her focus remains pinned on advancing forward as part of the phalanx: a blaster fire tipped spear that has traded defensive positioning for alacrity in taking down the inferior force.
Compartmentalizing the stinging of her grazed shoulder, Artemis' trigger continues to find purchase against the back of the guard as she squeezes off deliberate blasts in a rhythmic, disciplined manner. Like a phoenix, the bolt screams as it leaves the barrel and crashes in to her chosen target with baleful results as it squeezes between gaps in her opponent's armor.
And just like that, the uprising meant to take revenge upon the First Order is squashed, stamped out by the superior might of the First Order. That one unfortunate... or fortunate?... terrorist is pinned to the ground by Oran, and soon enough is in First Order Custody. The remaining enemy forces are soon all executed without sympathy, heedless of the begging and pleading for mercy. The First Order itself took very few losses, a mere five Stormtroopers lost of the initial force of forty strong. Before the First Order soldiers board their transport back to their base, the rubble barring the way has already been cleared and new doors are being fitted in their place.