Flight of Fancy

[Robert Abbotangelo]

Bob was actually a big fan of flying. He really quite enjoyed it. Biggest barrier he had with flying however, was that he was a genuinely terrible pilot. The sort of pilot you would look at and go, 'how did he get his license?' Well the truth was, Bob didn't even know you needed license.

Fortunately for almost everyone involved with him, he was the kind of stupid pilot, that was so stupid, he came out the other side with success. So there he was, given a fighter by some other Imperials who so happily presumed he could fly anything that wasn't a freighter with any dexterity and skill, sort of milling around at the rally point trying to get the hang of flying the twitchy space vehicle.

He at least had the decency to arrive on time. Against all odds he had correctly received the navigation coordinates for the rally point, and managed, somehow, to correctly angle his hyperspace jump so he arrived exactly on time. He knew he would probably be an embarrassment to anyone watching him, but he really didn't care. He was having too much fun, and was practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to take this fighter through live combat. It would just be so fun!

@EmilyHuene @vamp

 

[The Confessor]

[fancybox2]

LOTHAL: SPACE STATION LARIS
0700 Hours

The Empire has set its sights on the neutral, unsuspecting, yet strategically valuable, Lothal and intends to seize it quickly to expand its power. A Sith strike force will engage an orbital defense station above Lothal to cripple its space and air defenses.

Mission Page ; Self DM
@EmilyHuene ; @vamp ; @Shax [/fancybox2]

Whoever had the audacity to volunteer Lady Eriana Fox for an aerial strike team mission would be meeting the business end of her lightsaber by the day's end. The Blind Sith was furious. Absolutely livid. She knew she had little choice in where the Empire sent her. So long as she'd sworn her duty in service of this Empire she had to obey. When she heard about the chance to strike at Lothal she was more than happy to jump in and show her skills as a Crusader (a status which she was glad was restored). But no. That's not what she was assigned. The Blind Sith who had a fear of flying was being sent on a mission to take our the orbiting space station above Lothal. She wouldn't get to see any of the actual combat. So yeah...there would be Hell to pay.

But in spite of all of this, Eriana would show up nonetheless. Though, not as anyone might expect. The fleet of the Empire's finest would come out of hyperspace just out of range of the station Taris. Alongside this brigade of Corvettes and cruisers was one such Contemptuous-class dungeon ship given the name The Gallows by her captain. This was before Lady Fox took over the vessel, but she kept the name just the same. She rather liked the daunting nature of its namesake. And today, many new lives would be seeing the inside of its cells.

Standing on the bridge of The Gallows was The Confessor, a name given to Lady Fox for her work in interrogation. The Blind Sith had a way of reaching into someone's mind and extracting sensitive information. She claimed she could seek "a confession" out of anyone, hence what brought on the nickname in her trade. She was dawned in Sith Maurader armor that was tailored to fit more like a corset than a heavy chest plate. Her shoulders were bare but the armor still covered the vital organs where it counted. Beneath the armor she wore a tight fitting leather bodysuit that kept her free from minor wounds and scrapes that might occur during combat. Over this ensemble was a white cloak that had the Old Empire -now the current emblem of the Sith- colored into the fabric in the center of her spine.

The Confessor had two weapons on her person at all times. The first were her two curved lightsaber hilts that were the mirrored imagine of one another. Like every Sith, they protruded red beams that symbolized the will power and anger within the Sith. But Eriana was not prone to her emotions like her peers. She was a devote believer in the Force and that zealotry gave her a different power. The power of believe was far greater than anger and that's why she was the head matron Priestess for the Church of the Sith, a Sacellum on Ilum's cold landscape. Her second weapon, which made her seem all the more deviant and sadistic, was a Zygerrian electro whip that many of the slaving trade were known to carry. While Eriana did not practice in slavery, having the whip on hand showed she meant business. It also her whole ensemble rather resembling of a dominatrix in some adult industry.

As the brigade of ships split paths, Eriana directed The Gallows toward the space station along with three of the corvettes behind her. She would be leading the assault on the Taris and her show of command would hopefully be enough to give her the rank of Darth which she felt she deserved now more than ever. Unlike her fellow Sith however, she would not go to stab someone in the back to get it. Internal arguments and disputes were what caused the faction to be split up. They needed to unite themselves and work together to win this war. Another rule within her church she held fast too.

"Release all fighters," Eriana spoke to the members on her bridge. "Have them take out their guns then bring us in range to start firing."

 

[Darth Parox]

Milo was no ace pilot, but he'd had his fair share of training. It was a side hobby for him, really, but he had seemed to be a natural, and good enough to warrant signing up for a naval-oriented mission. How Eriana had been assigned to it was completely past him, but he knew she would be less than happy. Then again, she had found a solution—the Crusader was leading a small fleet from her flagship, which would require little piloting skill needed. Milo was part of the squadron that was now pouring out of the Gallows, flying his Dagger-class fighter as Warlock One—the leader of the squadron, which was composed of Force-sensitives, hence the name.

"All wings, report in," he ordered, receiving several affirmations from the other ships that they were standing by. The squadron flew in a loose formation toward the space station, going slow enough that the capital ships could actually follow along. So far, no one had spotted any enemy craft, so there was no need to strain their engines.

The only ship not part of his squadron was Robert Abbotangelo's—an Imperial agent he had not met—and the man seemed to have arrived just on time. His ship was flying a bit precariously, though Milo was not sure if he was just exaggerating or if the man was not the best of pilots. Nevertheless, he focused on the station ahead instead.

"Enemy craft at 11 o'clock, approximately half a klick away. Please advice, Warlock One." The voice droned in just as Milo spotted the unknown ship leave the station. It seemed to just be a freighter that had just finished a run, so he shook his head and responded simply.

"Stand by, Warlock Three. No need to raze down spice transports." Their mission was to cripple the station, not the economy of the entire sector. It would be, at the end of the day, another mess for the Empire to clean up once they took over, so Milo preferred to spare everyone the headache.

@EmilyHuene @Shax

 

[Taalong Vorr]

In the darkness of his quarters, Taalong Vorr put on his mask. The bone white visage of fear, dragging a ragged claw down the red painted and etched marking over his eye, the shape reminding him of the tribe he was born to, and the color reflecting the tribe he had adopted... the Sith. Only his eyes were seen through it, the natural orange piercing nature of the predatory vision that the Kaleesh had seeping through them, only slightly enhanced by his seething and increasing connection to the Dark Side.

He brought up his hood, covering his pointed ears and ragged hairs, and rested the sleeves over his Sith Warriors Armor. The armor was as ragged and tattered as his robes, but covered his body well. It suited him and served to remind those that he was a warrior, nothing more and nothing less. He was rage incarnate, the chaos that was brought his enemies, the banner bearer of the endless march of the Empire.

Taalong Vorr left his quarters on the frigate that carried him. Marching through the hall, passing troops that scurried about, crewmen that busied themselves in preparation for what was to come.

The call had come out, the troops were to be loaded onto the dropship. They were approaching their line of departure. The battle was soon to begin.

As an aggressive tyrant, he moved into a hanger, which was busy with troops hurriedly loading into large dropships, he looked upon the craft. They were sturdy and strong. Good military landing boats that would be more then sufficient to land the armies of the Empire on Lothal.

What still surprised him was the numbers that were brought to bear in orbit. Wars on Kalee were fought entirely on the ground, so seeing so many warriors was not unusual. But rarely would they be brought together in transports to be taken to fronts as they were. More likely they road mount or speeder or marched. This Empire however was a technological marvel, giving new ways of striking their enemies.

Vorr boarded a transport, the troopers moving aside as he passed by them. Though he was not of great stature, they did know it was he who was responsible for their order of battle once upon the ground.

He that was to lead the charge to the palace.

Vorr entered the cockpit and spoke few words to the pilot, whom he knew to be a squadron leader of the landing craft. The few landing ships with him would follow his commands, and the pilot would therefor follow his.

"You will come to bear as near the palace as you can." Taalong Vorr ordered sternly. "You will remain on station with fire until you are told otherwise."

With some fear in his eyes, the pilot responded. "Understood."

Vorr then stepped away from the cockpit, moving to the rear with the troopers. He mixed in with them, as the few that could took up seating and the rest stood. He remained standing himself, awaiting the imminent battle that was to happen beyond and the craft to take off to begin their landing... to begin his battle.

 

[Robert Abbotangelo]

Bob was happily floating around as usual. He felt he had finally gotten the twitchy space fighter under control and would soon be flying with the best of em'! He was too happy with himself and situation to see that this was absolutely not the case. He was flying around like a novice in a simulator, but in real life. It was good then, that lady luck was smiling on him today.

With the instruction manual in one hand, and the control stick in the other, Bob browsed the manuscript with his reading glasses put on over his helmet. He casually glanced back to space, making sure he wasn't colliding with anyone or anything. He was drifting a little close to his new good buddy Milo, so with a quick twitch he brought his fighter back into line with the rest of the squadron he was attached too for this mission. He was close enough to see the Sith sitting in his cockpit, so Bob looked over and gave him a wave with the hand that held the instruction manual, as well as a big smile.

He was more than willing to follow the two Sith's lead. He hadn't met either of them, but he knew he was their subordinate in this matter. He didn't know much about how the Sith worked, but he did know some of the reputation the big wigs had. Besides, he was more than perfectly happy to watch as professionals got things done. He would just provide support when needed, and maybe keep the fighter for later. So, he waited politely for the go ahead to begin the attack, not wanting to overstep his authority by beginning it himself.

@EmilyHuene @vamp

 

[The Confessor]

Far from harm's way, The Confessor listened in as Milo called for the squadron to file in and signal their position. She took a steady breath knowing soon many of those fighters would drop out of her sight and go on to join the living Force. She could feel their light slowly moving out of her vision which she was currently focusing on the battlefield ahead of her. She couldn't normally see such lengths as it gave her a headache to do so. But she wanted to be able to monitor the battle and not just trust in some droid's response as it called out numbers and position codes to her.

Eriana took a moment to herself to focus directly on Milo. She took a steady breath and calmed her mind. It was like he was right next to her still. That was part of the glory of the Force. It allowed them to do such wonderful things, even if someone else might not appreciate it the way she did. Whispering into her mind, she bid him good luck and then pulled back the connection to focus on the battle ahead. It would be a lucky surprise if the battle station hadn't noticed them yet, but when did things ever work out so smoothly?

One thing though, they did seem to catch the station by surprise. It would take them a good hot minute to mobilize their troops and send out ships to combat the attacking wings heading their way. But that didn't mean the guns weren't ready to fire. The unmanned guns would all rotate in their direction and begin firing at the space craft well before they were in range. It was mostly warning shots, but it wouldn't deter these fighters. Not today.

"Stay on course, Fox troopers," The Confessor would say to her own troops; the communication spreading to all channels of their squads. "Remind those savages who rules this galaxy."

 

[Darth Parox]

The few starfighter squadrons were up front, with the troop transports trailing close by. As they neared the station, the fleet swung into action, and Milo could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, his focus on the objective ahead so intense that he didn't even notice Bob waving to him. "Objective 300 meters away and approaching quickly," the same troop buzzed in his ear. This one was quite the overachiever, Milo could tell.

"Looks like we have no immediate opposition. Warlock Squadron, move on and open fire." The fighters swung out of position and unleashed a flurry of bolts onto the station, which were met by its shields. Alarms would start blaring within, but it was a commercial and recreational establishment; its guards were better suited to arrest cheating gamblers, not hold their own against an invasion. The troop transports would forcibly dock as the fighters opened fire, striking from both directions at once.

@EmilyHuene @Shax @Morse

 

[Taalong Vorr]

As the onslaught upon the station commenced the sound of pressure pulses could be heard in the transports, the shockwaves of explosions and blaster cannon fire dispersing along the hulls of the other vessels that were strong enough that it left weak vibrations running through the transports. Not so close that they were to have any effect on the sensors or stabilizers, but enough that everyone on the transport was very aware of what was happening outside.

Taalong Vorr could sense the feelings of the troops around him. They were not filled with fear, as this battle was a winning one. They had the manpower, the weapons, and the advantages of surprise. Everything spelled a resounding victory for the Sith Empire. Additionally they were trained in the despotic rule of the strong, so even on their level they believed that they were better then the troops that they would be facing when the doors opened and the ramps dropped.

There still were those that were scared. Scared of the idea of death. Scared of what could happen on a battlefield when they were unleashed on their enemy. Taalong Vorr had little connection to this world, or bonds with the troopers around him, so he had little to fear in regards to loss. But the same could not be said of every trooper around him. Being scared could motivate some, but others... it could cripple. Soon they would find out who.

The transports lifted off, as directed, as expected. The low rumble of their repulsors and engines echoed in the hangers as one by one they departed from the hanger. They had different missions and landing zones, but they would all find their way to the surface one way or another.

They were out into space and several the transports broke off. Unlike the rest of the main force, their target was the defensive station itself. They would land shock troops onto the station and seize control of it from the inside if possible, to help secure the position once they had seized Lothal. The rest of the soldiers had only to make it to the surface.

The Dropships formed up behind the fleet and prepared to make their dissent down the to the surface, while Taalong Vorr remained standing, his own thoughts focused on

 

[Robert Abbotangelo]

Bob awaited patiently for the signal to begin the assault. Giggling like a schoolgirl every time he thought of using the badass lasers mounted on the bird he was flying. The attack would be quick, that much Bob was sure of, and happy of. Despite his love of flying, he didn't want to be out here more than he needed to be. The more time the fighters spent in space, the greater the chance they would end up debris.

Bob cackled loudly once the order was given, flinging the flight manual somewhere backwards into the cockpit as he gripped the stick with both hands and began swarming the station with the rest of the squadron. He thankfully had the capacity to remember to turn off the input for the squadron comm's so his cackling wouldn't come through on any of the other fighters comm's systems. Not distracting them as he made pew pew noises every time he fired his lasers, and giving wildly necessary *Waagh!*'s every time he narrowly avoided colliding with the station or anyone else.

Now, Bob as previously mentioned, was no real pilot. He didn't really know how to operate within a squadron, and as such, just did his own thing and wing dinged his way around the station, firing at anything that looked dangerous and expecting the rest of the fighters to work around him so they wouldn't crash into him.

His erratic flying however was a bit of a benefit as he was near some sort of hangar on the station when a squadron of enemy fighters were just leaving the station. Ceasing his incessant cackling Bob reactivated the input to the Comm's and spoke quickly and with made up jargon with the hopes to fit in. "Got a poop group of ten wibidy wahbodies coming in from the rightish wigwam of the station!" Bob said happily. Almost immediately one of the squad members replied "Hell's a wibidy whabody Bob." A drawling voice said to which Bob replied "Barney!" Happily recognizing one of his many drinking buddies. Another squad mate said "And the hell is a poop group?" A slightly higher voice said, to which Bob said "Darry!" Recognizing another one of his buddies. "The hell are you two- Uh" He cleared his throat, cutting himself off. "Squad of ten fighters coming off the port side of the station, could use some help."

Bob needed more than help it seemed, as he was currently the primary target of the fighter group.

@vamp @EmilyHuene @Morse

 

[The Confessor]

Behind her, the men aboard The Gallows would call out orders and possessions as their vessels got closer. Eriana instructed them to open fire as soon as they had a clear shot; she didn't want them firing at her own men. The transports quickly began engaging and soon their turbo lasers would knock that shield out of commission. This would be an easy win for the Empire. The Gallows would continue to launch suppression fire while the other transports began to swoop in.

"Shuttles One and Two are moving ahead," one of the floor officers called out.

"Hold position. We're here as backup."

The officer would respond, "Aye Aye, my Lady."

The battle continued on as the transports got closer, most departing for the system down below, some heading to the Laris which was taking a heated bombing. Then, much to Eriana's confusion, chatter began to break out between the fighters. Someone out there had clearly lost his mind and Eriana had to call over one of the floor troopers to ask who in the Kriff gave that man a pilot's license.

"Bob, my lady. And it seems....well we don't have one on file. Perhaps it was an error?"

Eriana groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Calling over the comms she would sternly speak, "Cease the noise, trooper. Fox battalion, engage those fighters. Don't let them hit out transports."

The fighters would respond and Eriana could feel blips of light out in the darkness vanishing as ships from both sides blinked out of existence. The dungeon ship's helm continued to burst with activity as the captains and officers relayed orders, requests, and commands to one another. All while Eriana watched from a distance.

"The transports are now docking with The Taris, my lady."

"Excellent. And how many pilots are left?"

The man counted for a moment, "We've lost three Fox troopers. Two from Warlock squadron. And the extra dozen we picked up are all still- correction. Eleven are still flying."

"Continue with the suppression fire. Don't let up. We're bringing that station down."

The hall was met by a chorus of "aye aye's" and "yes mam's" as the collection of officers in the bridge replied to The Confessor's command. They were all excited for victory. As they should be. The Laris didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight so it was merely a matter now of how many more ships would they lose before the station was theirs. If they captured it was no longer an issue. This station was falling today.

 

[Darth Parox]

Milo was relatively surprised to see the civilian space station putting up a fight. It was a commercial establishment and yet had its own squadron defending it, which was nothing if not cautious. Nevertheless, it was poorly trained and flying outdated ships, which resulted in a few of the fighters getting blown up before they could even advance. The remaining five put in as much effort as they could, though that was not saying much.

"Copy that," he replied to Bob, about to use the man's callsign but then realizing he had none. Milo steered his fighter to the right in time to see the five ships open fire on the agent, only to miss most of the shots. As they did, the Crusader sent a flurry of bolts pouring out toward the enemies. Two fighters were blown up and their pieces sent careening off into the void, leaving three more. Warlock Three swept in and set a missile loose, which hit the ships and caused a chain reaction that blew two of them. The last remaining ship took advantage and sent a flurry of its own toward Warlock Three, who, too focused on the attack, was unable to dodge. The man was blown to bits along with his ship before Milo's very eyes, but he simply ground his teeth.

"Transports clear to land," Milo declared into the comms, and the troop transports quickly penetrated into the station. It was up to them to take it out from within and deactivate any emergency defenses while the fleet rained down hell on it from outside. Turning his ship back to the station, he opened fire once more, firing erratically in hopes of doing as much damage as possible.

@EmilyHuene @Shax @Morse

 

[Taalong Vorr]

Comm chattered echoed throughout the dropship, keeping every trooper up to date on the performance of the fleet battling outside. Though inside the craft there were pulses and explosions, many of the veteran troopers knew that the battle raging beyond the hull of the dropship was actually quite small by comparison to many they would have taken part in in the years prior. Nothing beyond what sounded like a crushing defeat of the opposition forces. They were being stomped out at every level, and the fighters reported minimal losses, if any. It was good to not have the crushing screams of pilots dying on the radio to ensure morale stayed stable.

In a moment Taalong Vorr wondered if he might have gone with the boarding parties, but it sounded as though there would have been no need. With as little fight was put in space, it was highly unlikely the interior of the station would perform any better. Several of the transports were already landing.

"Breach!" A voice called out over the comms, but it was not a call of fear, but of anticipation.

"They've entered the station." Vorr spoke out loud to those Troopers standing near him. "The orbit is all but secured."

He would look on this as a sign of what he would see on the ground, and unsuspecting rabble of defenders attempting to beat back a force that was larger and more prepared then they could have every hoped to have been. It would be a fine testament to the Sith's ability to destroy their enemies, and a sign to all that would dare stand against them in the future.

"Ten seconds to reentry." A similar voice called forth, but this one was that of the pilot.

It was time for the craft to make its way to the surface. The rocky ride of troopers holding in place as they rocketed down to the surface to eliminate the Lothal resistance and take the crown. It would be worthy sight and a proper battle. Taalong Vorr was ready, and cleared his mind as the seconds counted down.

Suddenly there was a jut in the dropship, as the pilots loosened the stabilizers and allowed gravity to do its work, propelling the dropship armada down to the surface towards the proudest city on Lothal, to take raise Imperial banners, and demonstrate for all who the true power in the galaxy was.

Taalong Vorr's battle was about to begin.

[Exit thread]

 

[Robert Abbotangelo]

This time, Bob did forget to turn off his input to the comm's network. So the whole group was given the opportunity, nay, the treat, to hear Bob's many noises and cackles as he fumbled throughout the fight. Somehow, still alive. He hadn't even taken any damage, though he most likely hadn't done any damage either.

He was glad to have the fighters off of him, so in between his nigh insane dialogue, he laughed out a "Thanks folks!" to the squadron, before mercifully switching the input off, assuming he had only turned it on in order to say thanks. He returned to his usual antics of winging himself around the station, firing at everything and everything that looked like something. Thankfully, something indeed must have happened thanks to Bob, or literally any of the other more competent pilots.

The shields of the station flickered and died, and while the lasers just kept on'a'comin' from the soon to be derelict station, it was clear that its time was up. Explosions began to blossom around the superstructure, and while it wasn't going down without a fight, it wouldn't be winning this engagement. Not if Bob had anything to say about it! And he had plenty to say in general, so it was a pretty good bet he had something to say about this station winning this fight.

@vamp @EmilyHuene @Morse

 

[The Confessor]

The battle was a slaughter. This commercial establishment was nothing more than mall security. They were flies compared to the might of the Sith. They dropped out of existence in a brilliant blast of fire; Eriana watched blip after blip in her mind blink out of sight. Her partner would call over the comms that the transports were clear to begin docking with the station. The commanding officers on her deck would relay the message.

"Good work, everyone," Eriana called into the channel. A chorus of shouts and cheers responded.

Moving away from the center hologram station, Eriana would turn and cross her arms behind her under her cloak. She shut off her senses so she could no longer see the field of battle, and returned back to what she normally viewed around her. Though, she still kept a small line of connection to Milo for that was just something she felt had to be there. And now that the battle was over she would leave the breaching parties to their job and head back to her room to await Milo's return.

// Exit Thread​

 

[Darth Parox]

He sat idly in his fighter and observed as the transports hit the docking tubes and the Imperial troops boarded. It was only a formality, really, since the station was already well past the point of no return. Letting loose whatever armament he still had loaded up, Milo turned his fighter and began heading back toward the fleet. "Great job, Warlock Squadron. Return to base for debriefing." The rest of the squadron turned around as well, just as a massive explosion rocked the space station, knocking an entire wing off and sending it flying into outer space. The main station itself began plummeting toward the planet, falling at hundreds of thousands of kilometers per second. Its speed only kept increasing, but Milo was not paying attention.

Their troops would have plenty of time to get out before the station hit the ground. Most of its inhabitants were dead or imprisoned. The structure itself was failing. Lothal had been witness to the might of the Empire today, and they were one step closer to absorbing the planet back into the fold. It was inconceivable that it had ever seceded, considering one of the founding Dark Councilors—Darth Evandrus, to be exact—had been dubbed the Prince of Lothal. By seceding, this planet was not only spitting on Sith history—it was spitting on its own history and heritage.

But he would save it for the bar debates. Now was time to head back to the Gallows and take a shower—with Eriana hopefully.

@EmilyHuene @Shax @Morse

Fin.​