Open Invasion Centering on Centares

[Teeka]

Billions!

That was the number, he was sure of it. Bosses never lied, did they?

Well, Teeka sure hoped his slice would be a big one. Maybe he could buy himself a new robe?

He pushed thoughts of wealth, riches beyond measure, and new robes to one side. Because they where nearly here! The Big One! War.

Apex, ever since he had signed on, had promised him this day would come, the day when he could send the Jutland Jewel into an actual battle, and here, on Centares, that time had come. He stood on the upper command deck of the Sandcrawler now, as it juddered into life in a large open space outside Centares capital, in the exact location he had been told to get the innoccuous scrap hauler to.

He snickered to himself as he squeeked a command over the comms, ordering their new addition to be brought to the top deck.

It was, as he called it, a 'bloody big cannon'.

And 90% of the time, it worked, every time.

Jawa guarantee.

He snickered to himself again, as a chorus of 'checking ins' came in from the mercenries stashed into the lower levels of the crawler, and Teeka waited for his Apex colleagues to make their own precense known.

OOC - Welcome to 'Invasions With Nor'baal'. Normal rules apply, with @Phoenix and @Mr. Teatime on the Apex team with me for this thread. Furthermore, mostly because I hate myself, everytime the cannon on top of the sandcrawler fires, I will roll a D10, on a score of one it blows up.

 

[Rax Halligan]

Raxus Secundus
High Orbit
2250 Hours

It was difficult not to be worried. After the emergency meeting had adjourned Commodore Zassus had pulled Rax aside, some back-hall without lighting.

"Listen close, boy," he had said. There was a strained coolness. "We're up to our necks in shit right now. It's not over until it's over, but I'm counting on you."

Rax hadn't wanted to accompany the mission, to leave Raxus behind, but someone had needed to keep the bull-headed captain from overdoing it. That was Zassus' logic, at least, and apparently the Grand Moff had agreed. Rax didn't want to, but he felt that he had to, and it was an odd feeling indeed.

The men sent to collect him had been Navy Commandos, the fleet's elite, clad in white plastoid and black fatigues. They had asked if he was 'Pollux's Observer'. Rax almost fainted at that. Instead he nodded, and they had whisked him away to a waiting shuttle. His shuttle, apparently, and the commandos were now his escort. He blanched. The Navy was coming on a bit strong.

Raxus Sector Fleet had transitioned to realspace close to two hours ago, short nearly half of its strength. Immediate concerns had torn what was left of it to pieces, sending a cruiser here, a response force there. When all was said and done there was still a fleet, but it was hardly the sector fleet. That was still what they were calling it though.

'The Sector Fleet is here to save Raxus!'

Rubbish.

The squat, tri-winged shuttle flattened out as it reached orbit. Rax made his way to the cockpit.

"That's it?"

The pilot looked up at him.

"It's all...junk!"

"Refits, sir," the pilot said. "It's the sector defense fleet, not a battlegroup. It's still nothing to sneeze at mind you."

When they shot over the bow of the Resurgent Class Star Destroyer and arced down to the lanky, angled Incursor Rax had damn well nearly sneezed so hard it would have killed him.

Imperial Star Destroyers, Gozanti Transports, Nebulon As, standard TIEs; it was a medley of old ships living out their retirement in what was supposed to be quiet obscurity. They were vessels you sent on patrol, not to beat back an incursion.

Captain Keen was waiting on the Incursor's bridge, leaned on a holodisplay table. He did not look up as Rax and the commandos entered.

"Observer." Rax had hoped the displeasure the old officer felt at this intrusion by Raxus would at least have been hidden.

"Captain Keen, sir," Rax responded. "It's an honor."

"I'm sure."

The bridge consoles hummed with low power and crewmen murmured at their stations.

"Is the task force ready to move?"

"Almost," Keen said, and stalked towards the front of the bridge. "The window for late arrivals ends in five minutes. Admiral Trantine wants a total headcount before anyone jumps."

"You think more will come?"

"No. We're short a few cruisers and a star destroyer. Ships that big don't just get lost. My credits are on them turning tail or defecting."

"Then why have us wait then? We're, what, a dozen ships?"

There was no reply. A cool voice over the speakers announced that the flotilla was to assume formation and prepare to jump in fifteen minutes.

Rax bit his lip and waited.

OOC: Imperial forces will arrive at Centares in two turns.

@Nor'baal

 

[Kato Tavish]

“That’s it, Boots.” Lieutenant Kato Tavish said, one fist fastened tightly around one of the loop-handles hanging within the dropship’s infantry bay. The rest of the platoon had opted to fasten themselves into one of the many dropseats that lined the narrow space, but Tavish had anticipated the jump might prove tricky for the platoon’s newest recruit. “Keep it in yer helmet now.”

Private Nuul looked up from between his knees, sallow face summoning up a thin smile of appreciation. ‘Boots’ was a moniker every man in the 32nd Imperial Armored Division had worn at some point or other. For green recruits like Nuul, it was a term that existed somewhere between affection and derision. Once a recruit had proved their mettle to his or her fellow soldiers, the old hands would accept them as one of their own. Until then, Private Nuul was an absolute non-entity in their world. There was only ‘Boots’. And Boots was green to be sure, in a literal sense at present, but he seemed a likable enough sort. Tavish hoped he’d live long enough to earn his name back.

A lurch as the ship broke free of the atmosphere and Boots’ shoved his face back into his helmet and wretched again. Once he’d finished, he shook his head.

“Sorry, lieutenant.” he said.

“It’s yer helmet, lad. Not mine.”

A voice broke over comms, announcing the fleet’s imminent departure for Centares. The Huttese push had caught the Empire off balance and word was the Sector Fleet was drawn thin, strewn across half a dozen systems. Tavish could sympathize. The 9th Army, of which the 32nd was attached, had been dragged through every filthy corner of the Outer Rim. Terrorists, rebels, insurgents. Rabble really, but losses and fatigue accumulated nonetheless.

And now the 204th Armor Battalion had been torn from the 9th, kick and screaming, thrust onto a transport and sent packing for some dustball called Centares.

Lieutenant Tavish passed hand-over-hand down the line of loop-handles, dropping into his own dropseat. The Hutts and their mercenary army were a step up from homegrown ‘freedom fighters’ to be sure, but when a contingent of Scorpio tanks locked sites on to them, slugs burned the same as everyone else.

Kato fastened his harness and waited.

@Pantor @Nor'baal

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Very Little Gravitas rumbled and roared through space above Centares, backed by Apex strike squadrons and its escort of two Arrowhead interceptors. Apex's strategist was being fed scanner data by the arrowheads, eyes on the screens while hand-picked crew flew the ship. "Proximity sensors are tripped, distress call's out. Expect trouble," they advised over comms to everyone else.

What tripped the sensors were mostly a small group of Apex ships and some Hutt craft. Waiting in the wings in case of a proper fleet response, however, was a much larger Hutt force assigned by the Grand Mogul for a surprise assault. The Hutt space forces were sufficient to match an Imperial sector fleet pound-for-pound. Per Nakoa's advice. Apex was expensive for a reason.

Nakoa wore his armor, complete with a sealed helmet, armorweave vac/environment suit, rebreather, and phrik vambraces. And, of course, their utility belt and all associated content. The suit could be

Loaded with inert demolition charges and packed with droids, Kaleesh commandos, and a ground assault vehicle, the VLG was fully prepared for either ground assault or boarding action. Hutt and mercenary forces on the ground could handle their end just fine.

"Ready mines, wide net." Hutt craft would begin setting up a loose magnetic minefield in Centares' orbit; they really spared no expense here. Too broad to catch fighters or small troops, but enough to catch larger ships as they came in. Imperial capital ships wouldn't be able to target the ground without risking severe damage once it was fully in place, and it would force any troop transports to fly farther from the main fleet to deliver forces.

Imperial tactics relied heavily on air support. Nakoa intended to hamstring that support before it became a problem should it come to that. The Supreme Mogul had even offered to pay a premium price for a captured Star Destroyer.

@Nor'baal @Pantor @Tic

 

[Teeka]

Tanks!

Teeka loved tanks.

Wasn't a huge fan of being faced with a line of them, but here we are.

He estimated that they'd only be able to get a few shots off being his exceptionally well-proportioned turret started to flare up, and so he continued to move the sandcrawler on his merry way. The tanks outnumbered them, sure, but they had a distance to cover before they became a serious and commanding threat, no doubt?

Meanwhile Teeka just had to press onto the city, and open the ramp, deploying his colleagues, compatriots and friends, into the settlement and securing it for the glory of the -

He checked his notes, who was the client again?

- the Hutt Car, Empire!

Fab.

The sandcrawler trundled on. He reckoned it would be ready to deploy troops soon.

OOC - Sandcrawler moves forward, will deploy troops next turn.

 

[Rax Halligan]

Deep Space

Hyperspace

2324 Hours

"They call it a destroyer," Keen had been saying. "But in my day the Resurgent was a battlecruiser. The whole Fleet College System is out of line these days."

The old man would not shut up. It had taken all of five minutes for him to quit the silent treatment and begin some half-baked, rambling lecture. Rax understood the words, but only individually. Whatever point was being made had been lost between the generations.

"Hypothetically," Rax interjected, when Keen had paused for breath. The captain looked slighted. "If you were to apply your analysis to our present flotilla, where would we stand?"

Captain Keen thought he smelled interest. He was not prone to let it pass unmarked. Rax desperately hoped there might be some tidbit of useful information now that the topic was one close at hand.

The Navy Commandos remained bolt upright at the bridge door.

"Well this," Keen said, and slapped his palm on the holodisplay table. It jittered. "This is an Incursor, a cruiser's cruiser. In a fair go it'll out-fight anything in the Hutt arsenal, I guarantee it."

Somehow the confidence in Keen's words made Rax convinced they were a lie.

"The sensors are well and good, yes, and so are the shields and armor, but it's the guns, Halligan, the guns!" It occured to Rax, as old as the ship and its captain were, that they could have spent decades together. It would explain a bit. "High up on swivel mounts. This old girl can direct nearly as much firepower behind as she can in front, and it's fast too! One of the fastest cruisers in the fleet, which means..."

Rax realized it was a prompt.

"You can give the enemy your full Salvo without committing yourself to a fight, consistently."

For a moment Rax thought there was a hint of approval in Captain Keen's gaze, but then it was gone.

"Indeed. I told you, this ship can out-fight anything. In the right hands."

"The rest of the fleet?"

His pet topic no longer the focus, the enthusiasm dimmed.

"A few Nebulon As, solid ships, good to have in support. They've got a big turret on the fin, good for long range business."

"I've always liked them. Shame we never invested in more."

"Raider IIIs, which I understand you're familiar with. Solid design, but a bit overbuilt." Rax was surprised Keen had known that. "Bidents are fine. Bridge is a bit cramped. Then the Nasuto..."

"You don't like it?"

"We have an emptied out Gladiator in tow carrying the ground-pounders. It'd be better for everyone involved if we had more of those and less Nasutos. It's a flying box. Not a hanger, a box. The TIEs just drop out of it."

"I didn't realize things were that bad."

Captain Keen gave a humorless laugh.

"You don't know the half of it. This Empire used to be great."

Both of the officers tensed. They did not break eye contact.

"You're a Sith loyalist," Rax said after a moment. Keen straightened.

"I believe the Empire needs strong leadership. The Moffs need kept in line, the corporations controlled. We haven't had that for a long time, but certainly not after the purge."

"I wouldn't know. Too young, I suppose. I've never seen a strong Empire. I joined because I had to, not because I believed in the cause."

"I was the same." There was a sadness on the captain's face, or maybe just a memory of it. "But time has a way of forcing you to take sides, Lieutenant Halligan. I saw the Empire slip into mediocrity and decline. Suddenly it seemed important to me it was great."

"And to you that's the Sith."

"Not all of them. But some."

Rax nodded.

"I'm sure you're not alone in feeling that way."

"I know I'm not. No one is happy with the Empire as it is, but good officers don't make waves. If we have anything, it's good officers."

"I suppose so."

OOC: Imperial forces will arrive at Centares in one turn.



@Nor'baal @Tic
@Mr. Teatime

 

[Kato Tavish]

Kato sat stewing in his dropseat, one leg set impatiently bobbing. Three decades of service and he had never grown accustomed to the wait. He had no taste for it. Any success he had found on the battlefield as a soldier or leader had come by way of quick thinking or adaption. Not through meticulous, thoughtful planning or prolonged exposure to his phantoms of self-doubt while in the innards of a destroyer. He undid his harness and made his way towards the rear of the bulkhead. A section of ladder was dimly visible through the open hatchway and Kato ducked to take hold of it.

“Everything alright, lieutenant?”

He looked over one shoulder to find the ruddy face of his second in command, Sargeant Haal, watching him intently from his seat. Haal’s eyes, small and black as riverstones, seemed to flit between Tavish’s own face and the hand still clasped to the ladder's outer rung. If he had something to say, it went by wordlessly.

“Far as I know.” the lieutenant replied. He shook his head towards the open hatch. “Was gonna go check on the sleds ‘fore we hit realspace. Hop came through so fast, we had to trust the vac-heads to secure ‘em on their own.”

“Need any help, sir?” Haal persisted.

“I’ve got it in hand, lad.” Kato said and turned back towards the opening. The sergeant watched him quietly for a moment. The neatly folded envelope of med-grade spice in the lieutenants field jacket seemed to grow heavier by the instant.

“I think Nuul’s gonna be alright.” the sergeant continued. Irritation flared like a sunbeam behind the lieutenants eyes and he turned impatiently on the man.

“Mm? Who?” he demanded.

“Private Nuul, sir. You know, Boots?”

“Oh, Boots. Yes, of course. Well, best to keep an eye on him in any case.” he said quickly. He thrust himself into the hatchway’s egress and was descending the ladder before Haal could offer another word. But the feeling of being watched followed him all the way down.

@Pantor @Nor'baal @Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa clicked their tongue to themselves, fingers tip-tapping along a console's length. A new message from the client had come through. It was sort of funny how the Hutt Clans waged war, but the Apex mercenary wasn't going to complain about the profits involved. Hutts had been gathering wealth for longer than the Republic had even been an idea.

No one liked them much. But underestimating them, and this Supreme Mogul in particular, was a common fool's mistake that'd cost several others their heads. Who else would hand a contractor- albeit one with a stellar reputation and prior good work- carte blanch for such a thing? Nakoa chuckled amusedly to himself.

"What's funny?" "Hutt strategy. Not in a bad way," they clarified as the Nemoidian pilot started to look nervous. Nakoa smoothed his attire down and took a few moments to recall the precise way Captain Brandt used to stand as part of the Imperial Navy.

Amber-golds turned to look at the comms operator.

"Keep sensors open for a lead ship or squadron... something. Knowing the Empire it'll be the obvious choice." Which usually meant either a big overengineered triangle or really expensive fighters.

@Nor'baal @Pantor @Tic

 

[Teeka]

"Lower the ramps!" Teeka commanded, as the Sandcrawler reached their destination, enabling the attack to begin. With a clunk, the main ramp of the sandcrawler dropped down, and Teeka charged forwards, being rapidly overtaken by the other (larger) mercenaries, who spread into the town square, firing at enemy security personnel and police who came to offer resistance.

The square was a commanding place, open with a few barricades hastily erected on the opposite side of the square to the crawler.

"Get our blockers up." Teeka shouted, as some of the merceneries came out of the crawler, carrying crates behind which they rapidly placed themselves. Teeka did likewise, scanning the square for the enemy commander, so he could go and #fightthem when the occassion arose.

 

[Rax Halligan]

Centares System

Deep Space

2422 Hours

There was a rumble and a crack like thunder as the fleet left hyperspace. The Incursor Cruiser and its escort flotilla: Three Nebulon A Frigates, four Raider Corvettes, and two Bident Corvettes. Then in the rear the Nesuto Carrier and its smaller companion, the Gladiator, which carried the bulk of the fighters and ground forces.

Captain Keen watched the slow spin of the distant white ball. They had come out on the absolute edge of the planet's influence and were now putting the cruiser's overly powerful sensors to work.

"What are you detecting?" Rax asked.

"A load of nonsense." The captain scowled. "I'm not sure what exactly the point of declaring a war is if all you do is try and tickle someone. I don't trust it."

"You were right to leave hyperspace further out then," Rax offered. Keen said nothing.

"Our fighter compliment is deploying now, sir," a voice reported from the crew pit.

"Hold them close," Keen instructed. "Form the fleet up around us and the keep the carriers back. Leave a Raider with them. What else do we have on sensors?"

"Mines, sir. They've mined Centares' orbit."

"Clever bastards," Rax hissed.

"Emphasis on the bastards. Plow us forward, Navigation, but keep short of those mines. We'll see if we can't deal with them. Weapons? Once we're at double extreme range, open up with the heavy guns. Order the Nebulons to do the same. Let's spook em a little. See what else they're hiding."

@Nor'baal @Tic

@Mr. Teatime

 

[The Gatekeeper]

Voided by the staff team