Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Brandon Barnes, Alice Bee, Christopher Levy, and Thomas Rogers.
One year after the Battle of Yavin (36:6:34) in the Chandrila system: Chandrila (Hanna City: Dagon Tong's safehouse).
Sergeant Major Rake Carson, Trooper Kaiya Crion, Commander Kerrie Kiley, Captain Dagon Tong, Inquisitor Jessa Thrope, Trooper To Ulloto, and Captain Thaddeus Updike.

People will do just about anything for a pretty credit. The Rebel safe house was known by those who lived around it within the slum on Chandrila. In reality, it made for quite the hiding spot. If the locals had kept their mouths shut, the Rebels may have been able to hide in their hole for longer. When Inquisitor Thrope was made aware of the Rebel cell, she wasted no time in gathering Storm commandos to come with her and kill them all. She wondered if they came as a result of the last time she'd let a Rebel live. Well, after a heart-to-heart with Lord Vader, Jessa had learned her lesson. There would be no survivors. She needed to chase the Rebels out, not inspire more to land on Chandrila and become a pain in her ass. The Lepi took charge of the commando forces. She sat inside of a shuttle with them while they traveled en route to the Rebel safe house. Hate flowed through her like a wild storm. Now, more than ever, she was desperate to prove herself. Lord Vader had opted to spare her. It wasn't something he would do twice.

"Move out!" She yelled as soon as the shuttle landed. She filed out last so she could begin getting a grip of the situation outside. By the feel of it, the locals had been correct about the information they offered up to the Empire. There were unwelcomed guests that she was going to take care of.

The Storm commando Kaiya Crion made her way out of the shuttle on all four of her legs. Her tail whipped wildly behind her. Outside, she was greeted with an array of scents. It is common knowledge that Cathar senses, especially their smell, are one of their greatest advantage. Their first advantage, and most obvious, would be the claws hidden away in her paws. She sniffed and sniffed. "Nyahhhh." Her poor nose had never been more abused than during her time as a commando. "Stinky. It smells like people who haven't bathed in a long time. Ugh. Ugh!" The slum came with an array of unusual smells. The Cathar uncomfortably shoved her helmet back on to shield out some of them. "Inquisitor Thrope..!" She sang out, tromping towards the Lepi. "I think you're right! There's someones in there who don't wanna be found!" She grinned.

The last battle had nearly cost the Clawdite Commander Kerrie Kiley her life. It took hours for the engineers to dig her and the remaining members of the platoon out of the rubble of the assemblyman's estate. She had yet to fully recover and no one would have questioned her sitting out this operation, but after what had been done to her there was going to be no way she was going to miss it. Particularly when faced with the prospect of Captain Updike being given command of the unit. As she held onto the strap in the roof of the shuttle she glared down at the structure from beneath the black helmet that covered her head. "Better to destroy it from orbit," she muttered to herself, but the Empire wanted prisoners. As the transport landed she motioned for the first squad to take point, while she remained in the command-and-control in the back of the shuttle. "Updike, move in platoon strength. Be mindful of traps. There aren't typical Rebels," she warned her second-in-command, while watching the view from the recorders on the commandos' helmets.

Captain Thaddeus Updike was glad to be going into the field against a potential of real opponents, rather than the diplomats, politicians, and bankers they had spent the past several months rounding up for the ISB and the Inquisitorius. When news came that a platoon had been taken out of action he allowed himself to hope that Commander Kiley had been taken out of action and he would regain command, but it would take something much larger than a house falling on her to kill that creature. He took a moment to check the power cell on his E-11 blaster rifle, before extending the stock to rifle configuration. With four squads of nine troopers each, he made his way out of the Stormtrooper transport from the side of the safehouse opposite the Inquisitor and her troops.

The cost of working with such a small group was that everyone, regardless of rank or position, ended up pulling TOC watch. There were corporals up to captains in the Cuy'Val Dar, and everyone got stuck staring at screens dumping surveillance feeds, and datapads displaying other types of sensor feeds and early warning devices. This particular watch period was Dagon's. Under most military structures, it was a tedium at best, and often a punishment, but for his unit, working with so little support and security from the Rebellion as a whole, it was a vital necessity. As soon as he saw the shuttle land, he hit the alarm, which automatically armed numerous IEDs through out their safe house, while leaving his own troops several ways out, that each man had to memorize. He stood up, pitching his cigarra on the floor and slamming his helmet back on as he moved to stick his head in the bunk room where most of his team, if not all of them would be, resting after the ambush. "*Wildfire*! Get up and *move*, *now*!" His command voice had returned, and was booming now. He did a quick headcount of the people who sat up in a controlled frenzy. The surveillance feed fed into the HUD of his helmet, one feed blowing up to encompass the entire space allotted for the feeds due to motion. That was when he spotted the Inquisitor. That didn't take long. He made certain his weapons were charged, and ready as he did the math. The ones that were out of the safehouse already were subtracted quickly, and he nodded, his people were accounted for. The various rebel operators wasted no time, throwing on weapons, armor, and grabbing their go bags. And then they were gone, out of the safehouse. If the Imperials were lucky, or had any overwatch, they would see their intended prey already loose from the containment of the safehouse, changing their action from a raid on a hated cell to a variety of foot pursuit and high speed speeder chases. That just left Dagon, who returned turned back from the bunk room, and headed down to the warehouse floor, to lean against a piece of machinery for a moment, and tap a few rapid commands into the screen on his gauntlet. Then he waited for the inevitable, and monitored his own vitals, not overly surprised at how calm he was in this particular moment.

Carson had almost fallen off of his chair when he heard the alarm, and cursed Athol in two different languages for his "enthusiastic" use of the systems that gave them all the necessary warning to get out of dodge fast. Quickly, he recovered his composure. As the 2IC of the unit, his job was not quite as simple as just running for his life in a proper military manner. He was responsible to Tong for accountability, of course, and he was also responsible for ensuring that their calling cards were left. In addition to those two most important roles, he had to wipe and destroy any codes or sensitive documents that had not already been destroyed through routine work. The "Book" called for the proper zeroizing of complinks, systems, and then the shredding and burning of any hard copy documents. Carson never was one for the book. For the first time in several months, Carson threw on his armor. Until he got clear of the building, it was essential in what could possibly be the largest (or last) firefight of his Rebel career to date. Choosing to John Wayne his helmet for the simple purpose of allowing him to actually go prone and sight a rifle if need be, he grabbed what few of his weapons he could carry with him. He directed the last Rebel out of the room, To Ulloto, to grab one of the heavy repeaters, a big, beefy slugthrowing automatic weapon that they'd had very little occasion to use to date. He himself snatched a customized Tof Soren military carbine, basically a 40 round variant of their more popular hunting line, and his ubiquitous E-11. Carson passed a quick order to Ulloto before he got to work with the final part of his duties: the destruction of documents and sensitive material. Dispensing with the "proper" form, Carson took two incendiary grenades and chunked them haphazardly into the bunkhouse. With the rugged plastcrete construction, the whole building shouldn't burn down, but it'd play merry hell with the electronics and papers they hadn't cleaned up. Grabbing two rucksacks that they had laid by the door on the way out for this express purpose, Carson left the bunkroom and headed for the exit. On his way, he slapped an anti-personnel mine down facing the only exit into the back alley that heavily armored storm troopers could use, rigging it for command detonation. If Tong made his way out this way, it'd be easy for him to override it for proximity or even the antiquated-though-effective tripwire trigger. He dropped a loose piece of debris over the device to hide it from prying eyes, or at least simple observation, and headed out the back into the maze of streets. Once he knew that Ulloto had followed his orders, he made his way to his own OP to wait.

"Thaddy, they're leaving." Kaiya nudged her captain. She, too, had suffered through many simple missions. She had begun to feel the itch for destruction. That irrational itch had caused her to slaughter a family of Squibs against orders. Rebels weren't Squibs. She wasn't going to get into trouble if anything happened to them. The Cathar's claws retracted from within her paw. Not the best listener, Kaiya took off towards her moving targets. It was just the distraction she needed to ignore her nose, as well as the smell of explosives coming from inside the safe house. She assumed the Rebels were booking it as quickly as they could while all hell began to break lose. She had no idea that someone had decided to stay behind within the safe house. She was hopeful that an attack with the Rebels would result in the damn Clawdite's death ... or the perfect cover to injure her so that Updike could see an end to merely being a 'captain' of the commandos.

"Don't let them get away!" Jessa ordered. "After them! Take as many as you can alive ... and *kill* those who continue to resist!" The Lepi wasn't going to engage the Rebels that were running away. She saw it as a task that was beneath her. Instead, she oversaw the Storm commandos for only a minute. There was something else that caught her attention. Her eyes met with the safe house. She could sense life from within. It seemed one ballsy Rebel had decided to stay behind ... but why? Jessa could have overwhelmed the safe house and caught them with her forces. She wondered if someone wanted to dance with her. She moved towards the crummy little warehouse but she did not enter from the front door. Instead, she paused before a wall. Using the force, she struck the wall with a nearby large, empty, fuel canister. She watched it burst through the wall. She was suspicious that there would be obstacles set for her, and so she descended slowly inside the new entrance in which she had created. Her paw grasped at the curve-hilted lightsaber at her hip. She ignited it. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..." This little Rebel was certainly interesting. He didn't feel nearly as fearful as the group she'd slaughtered. In fact, he didn't feel like anything. The woman progressed through the building with ease. While she could sense Dagon, she didn't know *exactly* where his hidey hole was. As she entered the warehouse floor's forest of machinery, Jessa realized she wasn't alone. If nothing else, at this point she could smell the smoke on the Rebel's clothing from what she hoped to be his last cigarra. "You should have ran with your comrades, Rebel." She said, raising her free paw and preparing to manipulate the machines around him. The old machinery groaned uncomfortably.

Captain Updike extended his arm like a clothesline in front of Trooper Crion, denying her any forward movement. "There's no reason to be first," he instructed her, as he fully expected the first wave of Storm commandos to breach the structure to be eliminated. The lead elements of the first squad of commandos moved towards the rear entrance of the safehouse. The squad leader raised his head, scanning with the MFTAS built into the visor of his helmet. "Clear," he announced, before taking the door. Three commandos entered the rear of the safehouse, two with their E-11s raised, and a third with a DLT-19 repeater. "And that is why we wait," he teased Kaiya, before dropping to his knee and bringing up a control pad. A 9D9-s54 Dianoga spy droid raised from a crate on the transport and began moving towards the safehouse entrance. Equipped with infrared imaging the droid did a much more effective job of beginning its sweet. "All units hold rear. Let the droid go," he sneered from beneath his helmet, as he controlled it like a child's game.

Dagon wasn't hiding, not in the least. The HUD updated him after the impressive entrance of the Force user that a droid was also inbound. He didn't touch the command det for the mine Carson had planted, or any of the other surprises scattered around the warehouse. Instead, he called out, his voice scrubber not helping with the notion that he was all but a blank spot in the Force. The Mandalorian almost seemed amused by the turn of events. "Does it bother you, that there isn't a win in this structure for you? Squash me with one of the generators, you head into orbit. Collapse me with your mystic Force, and they'll never find enough of your ashes to confirm your death. All at the hands of a lowly soldier. This is my preferred environment, bitch. You are just visiting." He snapped the suppressed slugthrower up, the stock finding its normal placement in the pocket of his shoulder, just next to one of the plates of his Mandalorian armor, before he engaged the Inquisitor. It might have been to distract her from what she was planning on doing with the mystic energy field that he couldn't tap, or he might have been trying to kill her. Either way, no less than 10 of the heavy slugs launched from the gun, nearly silent except for the crack of the bullets breaking the sound barrier and the action of the weapon, the group allowed to stray purposefully, so instead of driving a fist sized hole through her chest, the slugs walked in an unpredictable manner from her knees to her head.

Carson heard the shooting, which was a pretty clear signal that the party was starting. He'd come out the alleyway and cut immediately north up the main thoroughfare to his designated OP, and had just entered into the building when the firefight started. Out of sight, Carson had no need to walk slowly or try to blend in, not that that did much good with the heavy armor on anyway. He stepped it out to a crisp jog, taking stairs two and even three at a time as he made his way to the roof of the building he'd picked out weeks ago. It wasn't a very impressive structure, and its view wasn't perfect, but there was a narrow gap between two buildings that allowed him a field of fire down the street he'd just been on, giving him decent enfilade fire on anybody attempting to assault that side of their safehouse. More importantly, though, it had no overhanging lines, debris, trees, or structures. That would prove vital in the next few minutes. Carson began to set up one of the toys he'd brought, using the built in balance to ensure that it was perfectly level. A painted 'x', his own high-tech method of marking, indicated its proper placement. He set the baseplate directly on the X, unfolded the bipod arms, and turned the enlarged wheels that controlled their levels. Satisfied that the weapon had been placed as level as it could be, indicated by the centering of two bubbles encased in tubes of water, he sighted the rudimentary weapon on yet another painted line on the parapet of the building. That completed, Carson tapped into the security feed, checking to see how things were shaping up for the storm commandos attempting to enter his building. As the picture began filling his hud, Carson laid the other package out neatly next to his position and moved to his prebuilt perch near the parapet, a low rise in the structure of the roof that probably housed some kind of air conditioning unit or generator, but allowed him to lay prone with a view of the street. He eased the stock of his Tof Soren carbine high into his shoulder pocket, the toe of the stock fitting snugly just inside the bulge of his shoulder. Reaching skyward with his firing hand, he doubled his arm back to get a high, firm pistol grip and then rotated his elbow back down, trapping the rifle securely in its pocket, minimizing movement. Bracing his position with his non-firing hand on the deck, he wiggled his ass back, getting his right leg directly in line behind his shoulder, then brought his left elbow tight, directly beneath the handguard of the weapon. Rotating his upper body back down to the right, he brought his right side to rest on its elbow, but kept his torso low. He rolled his head slightly, bringing his cheek into contact with the upper portion of the stock, feeling the piece of tape he'd placed there long ago, indicating he had a secure cheek weld. Carson had never been one for optics, feeling they could fail or go out of zero in the worst times, and so had never upgraded the weapon's rudimentary sighting system. Closing his left eye, he brought the front sight post in to clear focus, centering it within the rear peepsight, then moving that clear front sight post onto the center mass of one of the troopers who seemed to be giving orders. The man had just stopped one of his number from going in, and he was currently engrossed in some form of computer program, likely a droid or bomb-sniffer. Amateurs, Carson noted, always tended to do things that made them look or feel important. They never seemed content to just blend in. His HUD showed him the location of the lead squad now, huddled against the narrow walls of the alleyway that led toward the back door. The rebel squad had long ago cleared that area of any cover, and they were about to discover why. Carson squeezed the clacker three times, an age-old military habit that probably made little difference, harkening back to the days when the electrical charge had to actually be generated by brushes in the clacker itself. Regardless, three was the magic number. An electrical impulse was sent down the line, setting the weapon's fuse to begin its sequence. Normally, this would have instantly detonated the claymore. In Carson's case, he'd opted for a technological innovation that Athol had suggested, which was five second delay. This would allow him to coordinate his own action. The signal also let everyone on the command line know that he'd just triggered it, which would in turn let Ulloto know that his party would soon begin as well. Carson breathed in, held the air for a second, and then exhaled slowly, purposefully, letting the oxygen enriched blood distribute, relaxing his muscles. Eight seconds, that was the rule. An eight second natural pause between breaths. Taking advantage of that period of stability, Carson took the slack out of the trigger, then began drawing it back. The sear broke cleanly, like glass, and the round set off, the chemical reaction propelling the 12mm projectile downrange at well over 2km per second. And then the world lit up, as the claymore's fuse counted down and detonated, propelling 700 ball bearings out at supersonic speeds, literally filling the narrow alley. Anything within twenty yards would be shredded, and anything out to sixty was guaranteed to take some form of hit, especially with the alley walls channeling the blast. The overpressure of the device itself should, by all rights and laws of physics, send the droid into at least the second floor of the structure.

If it wasn't for Captain Updike stopping the Cathar from moving into the warehouse, that would have been the end for her. "I like being first..." She was blushing underneath her helmet while he teased her. She decided to remain outside the safe house with her Captain. "I can smell explosives." She told him. If there was a K-9 unit of the commandos, Kaiya might have been the leader. The only problem was that she couldn't determine where, or when they would detonate. Hopefully the 9D9-s54 Dianoga spy droid would give them a better picture. She crouched over him to watch the imaging feed from the droid. Little did she know that those sent ahead would become red paint on the wall. She wished Kerrie would go in and never come out. She was so tired of that lady! Kaiya grasped at her E-11 and prepared it. The sound of Carson's clacker reached her sensitive ears. One. Two. Three. "Thaddy...!!" She warned him. There was no time to clear the area. "Get down!" She yelled, tackling him to the ground. She covered him with her body as the blast went off. There was no screaming from within. Instead, the storm commandos were simply blasted away. Kaiya's ears were ringing so badly that she couldn't hear anything else. The loss of her hearing made her feel off-balance and weak. She rolled off of her Captain with a look of shock in her eyes. She couldn't even hear the shot that was aimed towards Thaddeus. Instead, she grabbed her rifle and fell into a defensive position. The spy droid was gone. It wasn't safe to enter the warehouse from rear.

Meanwhile, Jessa found herself in a predicament. She had found the Rebel she was looking for, but he was more prepared than she was expecting. Most of her enemies folded the moment they saw her. This one was different. This one was worth playing with before she killed him. She was unaware of the blast which would detonate any minute now. Instead, she narrowed her eyes. Her paw fell as she stopped manipulating the machinery. Today was not the day she wanted to die, especially in such a graphic way. Her paw fell. The other gripped the hilt of her lightsaber harder. She did not move. "Bother me? No. I only recently slaughtered a whole unit of you Rebels. I'm still thriving from that win. I know there's nothing to gather here. I'm sure you've left no information for me to steal. You already had your Rebels run off to their supposed freedom. It's just you and I now." She highly doubted he was simply a lowly soldier. You had to have skills to get this far. She snickered. Her whiskers twitched. "Oooh, you brought something to amuse me with. At least you're more interesting than the last group I killed." She was going to see that he was laid to rest in his little hiding spot. Jessa had no time to continue taunting him, because at that very moment he fired heavy slugs at her. She could sense them coming and moved to escape their trajectory. It wasn't perfect maneuvering on her part. She felt a bullet graze her knee. It bit into her flesh, causing her to begin bleeding. Jessa snarled and launched herself behind a piece of machinery. She began making her way closer to him when the blast went off not far off. She felt the backblast. Even the ground was shaking beneath her feet. An incessant ringing began in her large ears. It wasn't enough to stop her pursuit, for the only sense she required was that given to her through the Force.

Jessa's blade sliced clear through a machine near Dagon. She burst forth in front of him, first using the force to attempt to pluck his slugthrower from his hands while, in union, slashing her lightsaber down towards his chest plate. She was on the offense now with no sight in stopping. This man was cocky. He needed to come back down to the surface.

As she moved, Jessa would find that the slugs continued to chase her to cover. A few more bursts hit the piece of machinery that she took cover behind, and then she tried to regain the initiative. He might have been arrogant, or it might have been a mix of realization and experience in this sort of fight. The explosion didn't seem to phase him, either because it had advanced warning in his HUD, or he was simply accustomed to explosions. When she came through the equipment, and tried to rip his primary weapon away, he simply let it fall to it's sling. It yanked him a bit off balance, and towards the lightsaber, though not before his empty right hand extended out, and a thick stream of flame lept up at her. The walking armory that many Mandalorians were in their full regalia had largely been built to counter the damnable Force users would have to be put through its paces today. The knife came out of it's sheath, and into his left hand, which he pressed into the base of the blade of her lightsaber. Strangely, neither his breast plate nor the knife melted away at contact with her lightsaber. But their proximity meant that his physical strength could come into play. As some of the flesh in the gaps of his breast plate were burned, a feral growl escaped him, followed by a swift elbow into her temple to drive her back away from him. His HUD was almost a distraction at this point, knowing that he had plenty of enemies trying to find a way into the compromised safe house, while he directly engaged something that conventional wisdom would argue for playing cat and mouse games with until emotion took over her decision making process and she put herself into an ambush. After the elbow was thrown, he drove his knee up, hoping to make contact with the Lepi's abdomen, again, more trying to gain separation again, as opposed to winning the fight outright. "I promise you, the Rebels you killed were nothing like me..."

Tu Ulluto, a younger, less experienced member of the Commando team, had been surprised when Carson had told him what he was supposed to do, but Ulluto was a soldier. He had made his way out the back exit and straight down the long, narrow alley, crossing over the street that Carson had chosen as his primary direction of fire, and instead pushing much further down. Ulluto had set up his heavy repeater rifle from behind the most unusual of cover. He had slipped underneath a parked speeder, lifted the manhole cover off of the street, and set up in it like a makeshift foxhole. He had been hiding underneath the manhole until he'd received the command detonation warning, when he'd slowly slid the cover off. He'd been a little late, actually, and he hoped that Carson and Tong would forgive him his mistake, but he'd finally managed to get the heavy repeater set up, deploying it as low as he could to minimize his profile. A wet towel laid down on the pavement beneath the muzzle ensured that no one would see the telltale dust that kicked up from the muzzle energy of the weapon, and his placement under the car and far back meant that no one would see his muzzle flash unless they literally went prone and stared directly at him from directly in front of his muzzle. In which case, they'd be dead, because that's where bullets flew. Sound could possibly give him away, but combined with the recent explosion, the doppler and refractory effects of the alleyway would make it difficult for anyone to locate him. Leaning into the shoulder stock until the weapon was supporting him, the bipod actually bowing forwards with his weight, he got his stockweld and began firing. "Die motherfucker die," was the ditty that Carson had taught him, ensuring that a smooth, steady six to nine round burst was fired. He then counted in his head for three seconds before squeezing the trigger again, holding it as he mentally said the ditty. "Die motherfucker die, one, two, three," and so on. He quickly realized that he'd made a mistake, however. It wouldn't make much difference, but he'd opened fire on the sustained rate, a slower, shorter burst of fire that was designed merely to keep heads down. Carson would be irate with him, but hell, he was new. He corrected his error on the next burst, adding a simple "die, die" to the end of the ditty, and counting for two seconds instead of three. The rounds cycled downrange low, only 6-18 inches off the deck, what was called in military parlance "grazing fire." Ulluto's work had finally begun.

With the first squad of Storm commandos torn apart by the explosive within the safehouse, the three remaining squads began to redeploy when heavy repeating fire came down upon them. The slugs easily penetrated the plastoid Storm commando armor, causing a degree of wounds not normally experienced by the troopers. As they attempted to take cover in the street, the fire penetrated from beneath the broken down speeders, causing many Commandos to drop with heavily bleeding wounds from their lower extremities. "Taking heavy fire," the squad leader reported back to the command ship, as he watched the commando on either side of him drop.

From within the DX-9 Stormtrooper transport Commander Kiley watched as the platoon deployed to the rear of the safehouse were being shot to pieces. "Air support," she directed over the comm, as she watched one cam after another go to static. "Who are these guys..." she muttered to herself, as she pushed one of the comm techs out of the way and sat down at the terminal directly. "Hanna City flight control. Line the bombers up. Bring them right down on position..." she paused, her blue eyes moving towards the location of the recently downed commando. "Position 27-alpha. Execute on my authority," she said, realizing that the result would likely take the lives of Imperial commandos also. In the distance the sound of the twin ion engines of TIE/sa bombers soaring overhead could be heard, breaking the silence of the evening sky. Four of the bombers began approaching the rear of the structure. As they moved overhead they each dropped a pair of proton bombs, that upon impact would likely destroy the rear of the structure.

Carson heard the whine of the ion drives as the TIE bombers came in hot. It was enough warning for him to arm the Golan Arms HH-15 proton torpedo launcher that he'd packed in. He had seven shots, but they were smart guided, homing in on the gravity signatures of whatever he had set it for. Not nearly as high tech as the launchers he'd used as an Imperial, he actually had to take the time to set it, which let the bombers continue their bomb run and actually hit the release point. Of course, Carson had trained for some time in his distant past as a pilot, and he knew that after "pickling" the bombs, the four bombers would break high, trying to claw for altitude and get out of atmosphere. That was fine. Carson held the weapon steady long enough to get tone, then superelevated the barrel to compensate for the firing charge, which simply spat the missile out before it actually engaged (to keep from frying the shooter, of course) the main drive of the missile. The missiles actually dropped below the parapet of the building before they engaged their drives, which worked fine for Carson, as it helped further conceal his position. Regardless, the rounds ignited one after the other, as Carson launched all seven, not bothering to get individual locks and allocate the missiles evenly. They would hit what they hit, and that's all he cared about. He knew the Empire wouldn't risk another air run as long as there was MANPADs on the deck. Maybe a high altitude run, but only after several hours of bureaucratic debate, and they'd be long gone by then. Carson ditched the useless tube and went back to his rifle, sending slugs downrange at any personnel that marked themselves as a leader. As long as he kept picking off leadership and Ulluto kept up his suppressive fire, the commandos might well stay pinned indefinitely.

The slugs were a damn annoyance that she needed to take care of early in the game. The Rebel man wasn't going to stop shooting them...and for good reason too. The Inquisitor was hot on his trail now. She continued to use the force on his weapon. Her frustration was evident when Dagon's sling was suddenly ripped from his body and sent flying off into the machinery. She was forced to back off for only a moment due to his flame, but she came right back for round two. There was a crackling noise from her lightsaber as it collided with the blade of his knife. She was trying to use the momentum she had gained from jumping when attacking to overpower him physically. She gritted her teeth and stared him down. His elbow collided with her forehead. Jessa jumped back from him. "Fuck!" She growled, wiping fresh blood from her forehead.

Jessa was ready for his knee. She shifted to the side so all he got was air. She wasn't going to let him get far away. She saw she had an upper hand when it come to close combat. As soon as he got away from her, the tables would turn. "Oh, I see that. You're special. Even now, I can't sense an ounce of fear from you. I'm so glad you aren't afraid to die." She drove her lightsaber against his knife once more. She should have guessed this one would be smart enough to bring something that could withstand a force user. Her free paw opened up. Hidden by her clothing, a second curve-hilted lightsaber was summoned to her hand. She didn't ignite it immediately. Instead, she kept it blade-free and lashed her other hand forward. The blade ignited just as she attempted to let it bite into his right side. "I hope you like pain, little Rebel." For the first time in a long time, she was engaged in the fight. Adrenaline pumped through her veins like a drug. Her mind was clear. Her powers were strong. She let herself begin to think that she would win. She'd slice this man in half and hoist his body up publicly for all Rebels to see.

Commander Kiley watched on the boards as one of the TIE/sa bombers was obliterated by the rockets, causing her to slam her fist down onto the board. All around her the controllers were beginning to panic as the wrath of their commanders as well known. "This is no ordinary Rebel cell. These are highly skilled operatives. We're going to have to throw out the playbook," she said, as she rose from the chair and moved to pick up a pair of macrobinoculars. As she looked through them she could see columns of flame rising from the downed bomber and the explosives that ripped through the squad. She felt that this was somehow familiar, causing her to lower her head and shake it repeatedly. "He's dead..." she muttered to herself again, before going towards the comm. "Deploy a Juggernaut to cover what's left of first platoon," she ordered, as she felt that they had entered a battle they had no chance of winning.

A HCVw A9 turbo tank began to roll down the street, unleashing its large barrage of rockets and laser cannons in the direction of the structure. As the tank to came to a stop, it turned to block off the entire street to give the dozen or so Storm commandos from the first platoon a chance to escape. Not a single commando had avoided injury, but with the use of slugs rather than blaster fire, some were seeing lost limbs. As they began to pile into the Juggernaut the commandos were muttering about who to blame for their stunning defeat.

She could probably feel his mind by now, if not exactly predict his next move. That part, the calculations of combat seemed as instinctive as they were pre planned and decided upon. Conflicting notions would pass through his mind in an instant, and without a conscious decision being made, he would act. The lightsaber that she shoved into his side before activating flooded his mind with white hot pain, but the extent of his injuries weren't being focused on. He could bleed out later. He was sure that his men were in the clear by now, at least those who hadn't stayed to bring the hate to the Empire. He trapped her wrist that held the weapon to his side, keeping the energy blade static. There was the briefest of pauses, her angry eyes reflecting in the t-shape of his visor before the flamer ignited again, spewing a stream of fire down onto the arm he had just immobilized with simple angles and pressure. It wouldn't kill her, but 3rd degree burns always left a lasting mark on the body and mind. He didn't hesitate from that moment, the domed crown of his helmet slamming forward towards the bridge of her nose. One of his boots came up in a lightning fast front snap kick, and after planting his heel into the Lepi's chest hard enough to break her sternum, he pushed off, creating the separation he had desperately been seeking, while sending her back a few feet towards the main entrance. Instead of firing a rocket, or more flames at her, his hand went to his opposite gauntlet, and his head canted to the side in what could have been seen as a gesture of predatory curiosity. And then both of their worlds exploded. The mines and grenades that had been rigged mostly at the main entrances when they had set up the safe house went off, an odd mix of Glop grenades and thermal detonators going off behind Jessa's back. She wasn't close enough to be swallowed up in the blast, but it was close enough to singe some fur and throw her to the ground. That would have been the end of the surprises, except for the forward thinking NCOIC he had in Carson. A hollow *thump* could be heard from outside, followed by a shrill whistle. A whistle that didn't last nearly long enough for anyone to do anything about. He had moved from sound tactics to almost daring fate. Suddenly, the parapet of the warehouse was hit, and the resulting explosion and collapse took down a huge section of the wall. But both the inhabitants would have to deal with the overpressure of the combined hell he had unleashed. When Dagon managed to pick himself back up, and stumble clear, there were fresh dents in his armor, he had a concussion to be sure, several broken ribs, and who knew how many cuts and bruises. It was all he could do to focus enough to jam the knife back into its sheath, and bring up his EE-3, hoping that he could get clear before he had to use it.

Ulluto had bailed out of his fighting position shortly after the juggernaut tank had hauled off the remaining commandos. With no more targets to shoot at, Ulluto's orders were to didi out the back, putting distance between himself and the firefight before heading to the rendezvous. But Ulluto felt he had an obligation to the men who had put so much trust in him. He rigged the speeder he had used as cover, which surprisingly was unhurt, and took off for the ruins of the building they'd called home for so long.

Carson pulled his weapon back from the parapet, having made damn sure there were no more enemies front. He left the mortar tube in place, and though it took a moment to regain his balance, (his elevated position had caused the overpressure from the muzzle blast to bust his eardrums) he managed to get his feet under him. He left everything except his personal weapons, leaving both empty rucksacks and the spent tubes where they lay. He made for the exit, taking the stairs carefully but quickly. It wouldn't do to survive this firefight only to kill himself going down some low tech stairs. At the bottom, he turkey peeked the door after pieing it off, and once he was sure that the only personnel left on the street were dead, he moved with his weapon at the alert at a dead sprint across the linear danger area of the street. He made cover on the other side and moved back towards the warehouse. If Tong were still alive, he'd have to make sure he made it out. Technically, this was a violation of SOP, as if Tong bought the farm he needed to stay alive to keep the unit going, but what the hell. You only get so many chances to kill Imperials before your time runs out. What were they gonna do? Shave his head and send him to war? Carson set up a hasty 180, or at least the best rendition of it he could manage by himself. When Ulluto's speeder came roaring in, Carson immediately put him on security detail, then made his way into the ruins, his weapon at the ready as he moved into the rubble, to snatch up his CO and get the fuck out.

She was breathing hard at this point. The 'average' soldier had become so much more. If she escaped this alive...if *they* escaped this alive, she would hunt him down and fight him again. It would be the Lepi who severed his head from his shoulders in time. She didn't stop digging the blade into his side. Her mind was briefly preoccupied with the entertaining idea of slicing him into two. Time came to a stop. There was Jessa, locked in combat with the Rebel. There was nothing to tell her what are coming. As the flamer ignited, Jessa let out a scream. "No!" Her arm was so charred that she couldn't manage holding her lightsaber. The blade diminished and the hilt fell to the floor. The pain was so intense, and the burns were so severe that even the gentlest breeze brought pain. In her mind, the battle needed to end immediately or this man might actually succeed in killing her. She attuned herself to him again just in time to predict his fast kick. What should have been a graceful backwards leap was ruined by the pain in her arm. Jessa landed on her knees. She snarled at the man. He had his distance now, which gave him the opportunity to create a second surprise for the Inquisitor.

There were unpredictable explosions. These ones were even greater than the first ones. The ringing in her ears was only beginning to soften now. She hit the ground, covering her head with the one arm that was still functional. The temperature within the warehouse became hellishly hot. She could feel the flames searing her cottontail and licking into her bodysuit. For the second time today, Jessa had been burned. She let out a scream combining her pain and anguish. She wasn't done...she *couldn't* be done. The Lepi rose back to her feet just as she heard a terrible whistle. Her ears twitched. "What now?" She grumbled. What she would give to pass out and surrender herself to the pain? There was another explosion and down Jessa went. Her body was injured in so many ways. There were bones broken and so many burns. The Lepi summoned her other lightsaber hilt to her hip. She recognized it was time to make her departure and end the fight with the man she'd hunt to extinction. Under the smoke, Jessa crept towards the hole in the wall which she had originally used to enter the safe house. She was dragging herself on all threes...for her other arm was in quite the state. The retreat was painful. Her pride ached more than her body did. "I'll kill you someday!" She screamed. The Inquisitor kept her promises.

Dagon was in shambles when Carson got to him. Blood was dripping out from under the helmet, and pieces of the clothing under his armor was burnt, torn, and shredded. He could barely walk, but the sudden appearance of an armed individual still had his carbine snap up, the optic barely synced with his HUD anymore, creating a lot of static as he tried to steady the weapon for a shot. Just before his finger pressed the trigger, he recognized that it wasn't a Storm Commando, if not exactly which of his people it was. The weapon dipped, and his gravelly voice echoed in the rubble. "Finish the fucking exfil..."Then he collapsed down to one knee. As Carson approached, he brought up his non firing hand and through it over the shoulder of his NCOIC, shifting his weight, and hoping the other man would take some of it, before they both moved to the waiting speeder of their junior shooter. Ass chewings for not clearing the objective as ordered would have to wait until he'd received some serious medical attention. But somethings weren't going to change about the Mando'a, concussed and near dead or not. Once they were moving and safe, he took the helmet off, and managed to find a non crushed cigarra. Once he had it lit, he let a stream of smoke and muttered, "I think we got their attention with that one..."

Hours went by as Imperial forces converged at the sight of the Rebel safehouse. Commander Kiley was counting her dead, and by the looks of it a good number of the first and second platoons had fallen. She was not looking forward to filing the report on this one as they had been suffering a string of defeats on Chandrila that was threatening to turn into a rout. As the duracrete was cleared the distinct sight of Inquisitor Thrope's ear could be found, which only inspired the teams to dig more. "We've got a live one," she yelled to the medics, as she personally began shifting the rubble. "We're going to need a new strategy," she declared to the Lepi as she finished uncovering her, before sitting down on a pile of debris to catch her breath. "This is not the typical Rebel cell we used to put down in the outer rim. This is the second time in 48 hours we did not stand a chance. They are familiar with our tactics and procedures. I believe we're up against one of our own," she reported, bitterly, as she had begun to suspect it for some time. Everything the Storm commandos knew was now working against them, and unless they changed tactics they would become extinct. As she watched another body pulled from the debris and carried off she wondered if they were not already.

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