Promethean: Delving in the Dark

[Ravensmark]

Promethean: Delving in the Dark​

Major Rarda stood on the the flight deck of the Immaculate watching as the the VAAT was loaded an prepped for its flight down to the surface of Metellos. He looked down at his data pad. It had been forty hours since there initial contact with the mercenaries within the Line Arc facility. Forces from the 501st and the 313th had secured the buildings of the facility from top to ground floor. The fighting with the mercenaries and droids had been intense but the 501st had pushed in and secured the facility with an hour. The remaining droids had been quickly mopped up once the AT-TE's had breached the facility. Although orders from General Sev had stopped them from proceeding down into the sub levels of the base.

Rarda looked up taking quick notes of the cargo, and munitions being loaded. "Forty hours?" Rarda spoke to himself. He didn't remember much after the group had been stuck by rocket fire. His memory after that being a dark blank. A large concussive blast of heat, and then a rolling impact into a wall. Rarda had awoken thirty two hours later in a bacta tank, and had to wait there for four more, while the doctors cleared him for duty, much to there protestation.

The Major had signed himself out of the medical center. Began browsing through the current orders and missions and had found the General was soon to disembark back to Metellos to begin his infiltration of the lower levels. But this time he was bringing a full fire team with him at least. The fire team was to be lead by a Sergeant Shade, seconded by a Private Aldamar. The last two names on the roster surprised him. Both Recruit Andara and Recruit Rokahn were to be going back into that place again. Rarda smiled and thought to himself. "I don't know whether to consider that a punishment or reward." The Major laughed and headed towards the Generals quarters, where he had a brief discussion, that ended with him being assigned to the roster as well.

Satisfied that all was as it should be he had proceeded to the Armory. Rarda received a new issue of armor only after filling out all the paper work reporting the reason for loss of his previous set. The Quarter Master was even more perturbed when Rarda stated that he would also be needing a new rifle. With a few laughs and a few more signatures Rarda had made his way to the officers quarters and quickly changed into his gear. He went to his locker for one last item. The saber that Admiral Andarta had given him upon his commission as a Major. He pulled the hilt free of the scabbard looking at the shining blade before sheathing the weapon and attaching it to a set of hard points across his back.

Rarda had then made his way to the flight deck where he had spent the several hours filling out shipping manifest, and requisitions for the troops on the ground. Making sure that all the soldiers planet side had what ever they needed. Even as small of an operation as this was, the amount of manpower required to keep a army functioning was astonishing.

He looked down at his pad once again. Less then thirty minutes till the VAAT was scheduled to leave, and less then fifteen till the men should be reporting for assignment. They would then find themselves back in a place that had tried so hard to end there existence once already. Rarda smiled as he thought about it and spoke aloud. "Ah, its a good day to be a trooper."

 

[Taz]

Athin stood over a table in the back of the armory checking over every piece of gear. Orders had come down that he was to be a member of General Sev's hand picked team to descend into the depths of the Link Arc Facility and finish was the General intended. The past forty hours had been a long debrief and identifying the fallen. Going over every tiny detail for nearly two days was the reason he stood over the table stupefied by the lack of ability to the entire armory into the depths of hell he was sure to see.

He looked over his orders on the datapad once more, there were three names he found to be an odd addition. Recruit Rokahn, good soldier who held her sh*t together when the world was coming down around her ears. managed to do her own job as an explosives expert and the job of the radio man. That brought him to the next name. Recruit Andara, it was stunning to every single member of the 501st that this kid wasn't being send to the brig or worse. He was sloppy, reckless and manged to get two troopers killed because he had no apparent clue how to use a grenade. Lastly a Sgt. Shade, a Shistavanen. Athin never had the opportunity to serve with her before, she was a wild card and the he didn't enjoy that idea for a mission like this.

"Frack it", he said aloud as he finished putting on his black Centurion armor. Doing a quick systems check on his HUD as he finished putting together his loadout and kit. A Canine standard issue pistol, two vibroblades, two smoke grenades, two flash bangs, two "droid popper" EMP grenades, and four HE frags. Places once of each into the pouches on his chest plate and putting the rest in a recon pack to be carried on his back. Adding to that a med kit with an extra can of med foam, a couple all purpose thermal charges and a couple other random items off the shelf for good measure.

Lastly was his rifle, the trusted E19; it didn't have the punch he would of preferred but it if needed it could spray like a fire hose and could use nearly any size power cell in the verse. A good feature to have in a primary weapon for such a mission. With his gear all squared away and ready for combat, Athin made his way out to the flight deck. The shuttle was set to leave in 15 and the privet had no intention of being late to the party.

 

[Slamdingo]

The first ten or twelve hours after Ishale's return had been busy. The nature of her participation in the operation had meant there wasn't much she'd been able to do much beyond helping off-load wounded soldiers from incoming shuttles or rushing supplies to the out-going ones. A battle group during combat operations was a very busy place and it was usually impossible in the first few hours to find any sort of quiet spot where a woman could rest her head. She hadn't even had the time or luxury to fix up or turn in her armor, getting her strange looks from fellow Troopers to see a young Recruit that looked like she'd been lit on fire at some point directing them around on Ops' orders to help keep things moving.

But eventually Ishale had been able to slip away from it all, even if she'd been dragging her feet in the process. The choice of things to do had come down to either getting food or stowing her gear and since Ishale hadn't wanted to get chewed out by some Sergeant who didn't like the look of her armor after having just come back from a combat zone, she went to the barracks.

The Recruit had made the mistake of sitting on her bed to strip out of the armor and before she knew it her bunk-mate, Recruit Ashlyn Tagratt, had been shaking her awake from where she lay sprawled out across her bed in a sweat and soot-stained undershirt and the lower half of her armor. A finished strip-down, the quickest shower she'd ever taken with her stomach growling at her, and a jog to the cafeteria later had seen Ishale sated. Still feeling a bit tired. But sated. And from there . . . Ishale hadn't been able to do much. Orders came down that she was to stand by and prepare for possible operations. "Stand by to stand by", hurry-up-and-wait was how it was played in the Troopers for the junior-most enlisted members. And Ishale's situation was no different, regardless of what she'd seen and done ground-side so far.

So until she was given orders to suit up there had been nothing she could do. In fact there was something about her being specifically informed out of a table of forty-something Recruits and Privates to wait for operational orders that had struck her as odd. She was just a Recruit, a nobody who'd been nabbed by the Major for Ishale's first ever taste of live combat. When this was an operation that had put her under the direct orders of the Major and the 501st CO, Ishale had figured she'd be such a small influence to be forgotten quickly. But apparently she hadn't been just another forgettable Recruit. In fact, she'd managed to get some attention that she hadn't expected.

Plus, no Shinies showed up to haul her off to the brig, so Ishale had actually been able to spend the last few hours actually resting (trying to, with nerves as they were) and getting a few more hours of shut-eye (staring at the bunk above her in the dark).

But that was over. Orders were coming through and Ishale was to be suited up and wheels-up with the rest of her new-found team inside thirty minutes.

"T-frackin'-21, yeah?" Ishale grinned as she stared at the weapon set before her on the counter, placed there by an unimpressed-looking Zabrak armorer, "Definitely not gonna be a drag with this on the field, yeah?" Ishale chuckled and looked to the armorer for a confirmation.

He gave her a token grin and a quick, dismissive wave.

Ishale's expression went flat, and she muttered under her breath as she turned away, "Frakkin' POGs."

The continuous-feed generator that she had slung onto her back was a hefty weight, close to 45lbs, but Ishale was riding straight into the combat zone and not rucking it for miles. So as she rested the light repeater over her shoulder and walked away, she wasn't too concerned. If they'd been planning to go miles and miles through rough country than the 5'ft 6"in trooper wouldn't have dreamed of carrying her full demolitions load-out plus a ten pound repeater and its forty five pounds generator on her back. She hadn't gone for the bandoleer of power-packs like had been with the one handed to her by the General in the last operation, because unlike the now dead guard it had come from she was riding out expecting blood-shed. Of course that had meant that as she started pulling on her black 501st armor that the Troopers from the 313th she'd shared the armory with, really just the un-blooded and fresh Recruits among them, stared at her while she was suiting up like the blue-haired young Recruit was gearing up to be a harbinger of the apocalypse.

Once she'd finished suiting up, Ishale had headed out to the flight-deck, and arrived at roughly the same time as she saw one of the others who'd been at the briefing earlier that day arriving. Private Aldamar, like the Sergeant who'd been assigned to the operation, was somebody that Ishale didn't know in the slightest. The 501st was a big unit so nobody could blame her for not knowing everybody and even if she didn't know who the two were she was still confident about the mission.

Ishale knew Corric could handle himself and would make it so she wasn't the only one at the base of the operation's totem pole, the Major was more than capable of handling himself in a fight even if that droid had him KO'd, and Ishale was relatively sure that the General was purely distilled bad-ass.

So the Sergeant and Private could be a pair of bumbling buffoons and it was likely they still wouldn't mess up this operation, but you didn't live long enough to start gaining any rank in the Troopers without knowing how to at least do your job well. But still, there was always a way through the cracks . . .

With her helmet tucked under one arm and a hand resting on the stock of the light repeater across her shoulder, the blue-haired Recruit approached and gave a nod, "Private Aldamar, yeah? Recruit Rokahn. Good to see the General isn't just sending Jabber n' me back into that drag with him. Shit got crazy last time."

And it was then that she noticed the Major not far off.

"Sir!" She called excitedly, jogging over, and giving as best a salute as one could jogging with a repeater in one hand, "Its good to see you up and about, sir. Good thing Bravo's doc wasn't half bad, yeah?"

 

[Tristar]

Eject magazine. Slap a powerpak in. Pull back the slide. Eject magazine. Catch the powerpak, and slip it back in. For the thirtieth time, Corric began to wonder if his guardian angel, out there somewhere was grumbling to himself at the luck of his ward. Certainly, the past 2 days had been- confusing? Rushed? There were no precise words to describe his feelings and jumbled thoughts that flew in and out of his tired mind.

Perhaps it was better to start off from where they had last left off last time; after he had been evacuated with the rest of the wounded, he was immediately sent off to a private ward with armed(?!) guards outside of his door, and a medical droid that diagnosed his wound, which turned out to be a little bit more severe than it looked; the blaster bolt had almost got through his leg, charring the bone. He was lucky, that the immense heat had cauterized any blood vessels that may have been fatal to him. So in a way, pain was good for him.

Plus, it earned him a 12 hour knock out as they operated on his leg, sending him into a dreamless sleep from which, he woke up fully rested, with a healed leg, but a scar to remind him of his folly.

From there, things began to slide a little downhill; he wasn't allowed outside unless accompanied by either one of the silent troopers and thanks to their faceless helmets, he had no way to see if they recognised him, or if they were even human. Because of this arrangement, Corric ate all his meals in his ward, cut off from the outside world with nothing to entertain himself with. So he rested and exercised.

And that was about all he had done, until 2 hours ago when he woke up from his daily siesta to find his armour fully repaired, doubled with a replacement communications rig. Weapons wise....he had nothing to go, except a slip signed by someone whose name he couldn't read that basically gave him free pick of whatever gear he deemed suitable from the armoury for the next operation.

At the mention of the word 'operation', Corric stiffened slightly. Again? He didn't have any qualms with it, but this was starting to look more and more like a full-on assault on Metellos than a covert operation he had in mind; something went wrong, and he knew the partial reason behind it. Most of the reasons stemming from the lack of trust or paranoia within the higher ups.

And maybe, perhaps, the shutting of the door on the trapper's face; regardless of what others thought of him, Corric was in no way explosives-illiterate. It just so happened that the circumstances were not in his favour. No doubt rumours had spread, and he had already braced himself mentally for the names; TKer, Fragger or Screw up.

He was used to bullying, and being called names wasn't a touch above elementary grade school ground business.

Eject magazine and toss it up in the air.

Catch it, and slap it in.

Pull the slide. Hear the whine.

Sigh.

Which lead him to his current situation; lying on his back on the bed, toying with his dual K-9s with a bored expression. It had been 2 hours, and not a single notificati-

The door slid open, and his two escorts slinked into the room silently; Corric raised his head and stowed his pistols into their holsters before pulling himself up. So he wasn't forgotten. That was good. There was no need for words as he was lead by his mute guards past the lower decks all the way down, through hallways filled with rushing crowds of beings that seemed to merge to the side, allowing him passage that would have taken maybe another half an hour. Maybe it was because of the presence of the armed guards.

Or maybe it was the war paint of blood that still stuck to his helmet that gave him the intimidating look.

Or an unholy combination of both. Regardless, they made it to the departure hangar in relative good time. Already there was the chaotic scene unravelling before him; technicians making last minute checks to the humongous VAAT while the pilots were sitting on the crates nearby, having the last minute drink before they made their way into their rust bucket. As for the rest of the 501st, there were few like him, just standing around, soaking it all in. Others were sitting down, running their own gear checks over and over. Some even had the nerve to joke around, and only one person slept. It was a mess; it was a trooper's way of life. Nothing in the plan will ever go perfectly, always that one annoying little hitch.

So if it was one reason for the rather shocking scene of stormtroopers, it would be:

We practise Chaos on a daily basis, so that when it does happen on the battlefield, we'll all feel at home.​

After a while of not moving, he decided enough was enough, and moved away from his guards, fully expecting them to protest in one way.

Except they did not. In fact, they weren't there at all, having left his side sometime while he was in his mindless trance. Which was honestly fine by him, as it left him free to wander around so long as (So he guessed) he didn't leave the AO; not that he wanted to in the first place.

It wasn't long before he was moving, searching the crowd for familiar faces, and indeed, he saw one. With something else that made it pretty darn obvious it was her. Grinning grimly to himself, he half walked, half marched behind her when he realised that she was in front of Major Rarda, the very same officer that dragged him and Ishale into the fray quite unnecessarily in his opinion, not that it mattered now.

Wriggling his fingers, Corric stopped about a few steps behind 'Roach' before speaking for the first time 40 hours, his voice slightly dry and raspy.

"...Roach...how the everliving frackkity frack are you even standing straight with all that crap you're lugging?...Maybe that's the reason you're short as you are.."

Looking up at the Major, the recruit snapped a quick salute, standing firm to attention before addressing him in the same monotone voice he had used on Ishale a few seconds ago.

"Major, sir! Recruit Andara reporting for duty, sir. We flying with eyes this time sir, or are we making up the plan as we go along?"

 

[Neo Shark]

Cari had long since grown accustomed to the somewhat complicated process of getting herself into her custom Centurion semi-powered armor. One of the few tailed species in the galaxy, the standard issue armor had had to be slightly altered to accommodate her large tail and protruding muzzle. Thankfully, it was an easy fix, if somewhat inconvenient for her. After encasing it in a specially designed sleeve, the air was sucked out until she was left with something that could easily be wrapped around her waist. With her tail put away, it was a simple matter of putting on the armor's body suit, followed by the outer armor.

Arming herself took considerably less time. After some careful consideration she decided to forgo any and all explosives in exchange for more ammo. With her pouches mostly filled with ammo now, she grabbed a K983, E75, and a DE7 on her way out, hurriedly filling out the necessary paper work. The Canine and the E75 were attached to her thighs, and the DE7's case was easily attached to the magnetic hard-points on her back. Weaponry secured to her armor, she made her way out of the armory, and towards the hangar.

She took the time it would take to reach the hammer to review the information she recalled about her new team. A few of them stood out from the rest, but none of them she had worked with before. She always looked forward to breaking in new people, and was fairly certain her title would resurface. If they hadn't already heard about "The Bitch", they would learn it soon enough. She had little patience for screw ups, and could blister steal with the sound of her rage. It didn't look like this batch of troopers would pose any problems.

Her thoughts were stopped short as she finally reached her destination. She was greeted by the normal noise level of a hanger in full operation. Dodging a hurried mechanic, she stood to the side of the entrance and looked in, searching for the Major she was here to see. With helpful clues from her helmet, she located him in short order, and hurried over to meet him. She was pleasantly surprised to see several of her squad already there.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Forty hours since the utter fiasco on Metellos. Forty hours Sev had carefully budgeted. Two hours rest. Four hours trying (and failing) to repair his armor. Eight hours in medical to tend to his wounds. Another four hours in the machine shop for the damage to his right arm. Sixteen hours planning and organizing the renewed assault on Saint Demarkos. An hour on the holonet sorting out the whole mess with Lord Weiss, and another five hours of precious, elusive sleep. It wasn't complete chaos, but it was hectic and it was busy.

Somewhere amidst all the chaos he'd found time to eat, though, as usual, his idea of a complete meal had devolved into nibbling and grazing on whatever he could get his mitts on and run away with. If a nutritionist could see the list of energy bars and nutrient paste packs he'd gulped down, he imagined the poor soul would commit seppuku with a stale granola bar. He'd promised himself that he'd start taking the time to eat proper meals, but the events of his first impromptu mission with the 501st had forced him to shatter that little promise. There was simply no time to nab a full meal.

The worst of the entire situation was Andara and Admiral Scryer. The latter was so inflexibly bound to protocol that the General was mildly surprised she hadn't marched the former off for execution yet. For the moment the recruit was safe - the guards assigned to Andara's quarters had guaranteed no Navy 'Shinies' would pop by to drag him away, and also ensured he didn't try to escape and skirt his inevitable punishment. He'd be even safer once they were planetside. Nobody'd be insane enough to chase him down into the den of monsters they were sailing into.

It would also provide Corric Andara with a chance to redeem himself, to obscure the nasty black mark on his record that was a double fratricide with a little experience in classified operations and a couple pins and ribbons for his service. That wasn't the reason the general had elected to drag him and 'Roke' along, though. Rather, both he and Ishale had seen things far, far beyond their pay grades. Whether they liked it or not they were stuck in with the General's messy business for the long haul. He didn't like that, he far preferred keeping volunteers with him, but he was stuck with them in much the same way they were now bound to his mission.

Rarda he wanted along for much the same reasons he was dragging Andara and Ishale into his mess, but also because of his stubborn refusal to die quietly during their encounter with Ark's battle droids. He was a capable soldier, and more importantly, he was a Chiss. There was no use cutting them out of a covert operation if they knew it existed - they'd use whatever black magic their race possessed to find out every last detail about the operation and, in the process, likely discover his favorite sandwich and blood type in the process. They were a very strange race to Sev, so caught up in games of cloaks and daggers.

It was ironic, then, that he found the Chiss strange given that the past fifteen years of his life had been a single continuous game conducted wholly from the shadows. Perhaps he had become the strange one!

He pushed those thoughts from his mind as he secured an armorweave kama around his waist. The article was dominantly gray in color, heavily scorched thanks to plenty of exposure to blasters and fire, with a thick blood-red border that was torn and frayed in places. He hadn't worn his kama in fifteen years - the heavy article had become something of a symbol of his command. Today, though, he didn't care that it was a throwback to a life he'd been ordered to leave. He was going to need every last bit of armor he could get his hands on.

In addition to his kama, the General wore a bandoleer loaded up with power paks and a spare blaster gas cartridge for a T-21 repeater. It wasn't the weapon he was carrying - he had an ACP Array Gun clamped to his left thigh-plate and his customary DC-11S clipped to the middle of his back, and ammo for both lined the pouches arranged 'round his waist. A large pouch attatched to his right hip, over his kama, contained a compact demolition kit. That kit included an armored case containing four cylinders of desensitized Rhydonium, each as thick as his thumb and as long as his palm. The volatile fuel was an immensely potent explosive - with it, there would be few things they couldn't blast their way around or through.

The General used his helmet HUD to review the mission plan, and their fragmentary map of the facility's sublevels, as he headed down to the hangar. He'd already committed it to memory - all the key points, at least - but reviewing it one last time didn't seem like it'd do any harm. He killed the map as he entered the bay, took a quick glance to locate his squad, then made a beeline for him. He was easy enough to see - in addition to towering over the average Stormie by a full head, Sev had donned his spare suit of armor, one he hadn't repainted since joining the 501st. It bore a worn set of red stripes along the arms and down the far edges of his torso armor. A single red stripe ran front to back along his helmet's center, terminating just above and between the lenses, while two solid triangles were stenciled above each lense. On the back of his helmet, just right of the line, the word (or, more likely, acronym) SUMAT was printed. To the left, in far smaller print, "The voices made me do it."

Both helmet and armor were heavily scarred from battle, rather like his old suit, and were a very old mark of Centurion. While fundamentally identical in form and function, a keen eye could tell that it was SAU8.L - a great many marks older than the .v1 in current use. It was entirely possible that the suit had belonged to him since he'd joined the Stormtrooper corps. At any rate his IFF was certainly a bit outdated; it showed him as part of the 352nd, though at least it still displayed his correct rank of General.

Sev reached the group just as Corric and Ishale were distracted by Rarda. He stepped in behind Ishale and rapped his knuckles against the heavy generator worn by the latter, his head slightly canted to one side.

"By the Force, kid, this jenny weighs half as much as you do," he muttered, "Ditch it and grab a bandoleer with some power paks. You'll move faster - besides, if we get stuck in so bad we need the generator, we're all dead anyways."

His attention flicked to Corric. "Hey, Andara. For this mission you're carrying nothing but droid poppers and non-lethals."

The General paused, then glanced to his right arm - the same one that'd eaten a blaster cannon bolt the last time he was on Metellos.

"On second thought, no droid poppers for you. Only non-lethals."

He didn't wait for a response from either trooper. Instead he skirted around Ishale, speaking to Rarda as he did so. "Major, I've got a partial map in the local battlenet's command channel. Take a look at it - I've got a few places marked as objectives and some general estimates for the shitstorm we'll be wedging ourselves into. I'll be giving a quick briefing over the squad channel in a minute."

Sev's astromech, a little R-series - rather like R2-D2 - came trundling along warbling and chattering incessantly. The general jabbed a finger towards the dropship and the green-trimmed mech went darting off to load itself up. "Rhine'll be coming with us to the first security station, by the by. He'll be following on our heels so we won't have to look after him."

The Stormtrooper turned from Rarda and started towards the dropship. He keyed his comms into the squad channel and, satisfied that everyone including Aldamar and Shade had been added, started the briefing. "As some of you know, we're going down to play with a company called LINE Ark. They've got a funny habit of burying their darkest secrets in underground labs. We'll be securing one of those lab complexes today. Our mission is to secure the primary security center, the facility's server rooms, and its central computer core. Depending on what we find, we may end up with more work to do. We may also wind up with less. We'll have to play it by ear down there. As for opfor, we're looking at twenty to thirty battle droids and as many as two hundred combat personnel, maybe more, with a bare minimum of three to five hundred scientific personnel."

"Rules of engagement are a little tricky on this. You're weapons free on almost everything - scientific personnel included. Make no mistake, Ark's researchers are monsters who wouldn't hesitate to turn a kid into a bio-bomb if they thought it'd be a useful project. That said, there will be personnel with red labcoats or armbands. They're... Slaves isn't quite the word I want, but it is accurate. They're poor bastards who've been strong armed into working for Ark. If you see red coats or bands, shoot to stun, not kill. We'll sort them out after the mission is over. If someone surrenders, stun them, cuff them, we'll sort it later."

"Last thing - it's going to be real tight in some places down there. Expect some serious room to room and corridor fighting. Don't skimp on concussion and flash grenades, they'll be lifesavers down there. And don't take a long gun if you don't have to, the standard E-75 is about as big a rifle as you're going to want when you're turning corners in an Ark compound. That's about the extent of the briefing - myself or Rhine, our astromech pal, will push updates to your HUD's as needed. Check your gear, check your squaddy's gear, then get to the ship and strap in. The main assault force is due to hit the main entrance in twenty-five minutes, and we're going to want to be there when it happens."

 

[Ravensmark]

"Sir!"

Rarda looked up to see the excited Recruit Rokahn heading his way. She stopped giving him a quick salute before speaking. "Its good to see you up and about, sir. Good thing Bravo's doc wasn't half bad, yeah?"

The Major gave a quick return salute and a laugh before speaking. "Yes the medic did a fine job patching me up after that explosion. I can't say as I remember to much after the blast. But I can tell you I don't really enjoy flying."

Recruit Andara showed up and spoke briefly with Rokahn before noticing the Major and giving a crisp salute and began asking questions. "Major, sir! Recruit Andara reporting for duty, sir. We flying with eyes this time sir, or are we making up the plan as we go along?"

Rarda looked at Andara sizing up the man. "Recruit I expect next time, I won't see blood still remaining on your armor." Rarda spoke with a stern voice. "I don't care if you paint and add some flourish to it. You have earned that right being here in the 501st. But blood stains will be washed and removed. I don't care if they are yours or theirs. As far as not flying blind this time. The General has a semblance of a plan, and will brief us when he arrives. But this is war trooper, all plans go to hell once you start taking fire."

Rarda turned towards Private Aldamar. "I have yet to serve with you son, but your record speaks highly of you. I hope to see some of the experience put to good use today."

Sergeant Shade was the next to arrive. "Shade." Rarda nodded to the Sergeant. "I will expect to see you here before the troops next time. Its a Sergeants job to stay one step ahead of there troopers." Rarda smiled and laughed letting all the serious of his voice fade away. "These troopers though. These troopers they know how to find trouble."

General Sev soon arrived and began his brief and run down of there operation. As the General briefed the troopers, Rarda was going over the current map of the facility that the General had provided. The objectives where marked. And he could guess where the enemy forces would have defenses set up. The General finished his brief and jumped on bored the awaiting VAAT.

Rarda spoke as the General finished speaking. "You heard the General. Two minutes to fix your kits and be ready for dust off. Transports out in three." Rarda watched as the troopers finished there final checks and was the last to load. Following them to there seats.

The VAAT took off and sped away from the Immaculate heading for the planets surface and the awaiting facility below.

"Ok troopers listen up. In twenty minutes units from Charlie and Foxtrot company are going to head down the main cargo lift into the facility below. There sole purpose is to provide a large distraction, hopefully pulling most of the enemy troops and droids to defend the main lift. We will be inserting via the emergency personal lift locate within the facility. Expect light to moderate resistance, and remember it will be close quarters combat. If you hesitate once you will die. Do what your told, or use your head if you have no orders. Your Imperial Stormtroopers, act like it. We have zero room for mistakes. One bad throw of grenade, one missed rocket and that can spend the end for the whole group in tight spaces. Always clear your corners. I don't care if the guy in front of you just said clear. You keep your head on a swivel." Rarda paused and grabbed his helmet. "Put your helmets on boys and girls. I have uploaded our current objective into your hud. As you can see we will travel down the central lift. Travel through one hundred and thirty meters of corridor and offices to come to our first security station. Once secured we will gain intel on our second objective. The General has already laid out the rules of engagement." Rarda stopped speaking and leaned his head against the rest.

The flight planet side took twelve minutes. And the quick jog to the central lift took five. The group arrived at the lift three minutes before the main assault force began there push. The lift was secured by a squad of Stormtroopers. Rarda opened up a com channel with there sergeant. "Sergeant. If we aren't there first thing up this lift. Shoot first, ask questions later. Secondly our squad must go radio dark for at least two hours before any attempts at a search will begin." The Sergeant acknowledged him and moved to let the group pass.

"Ok troopers everyone in." Rarda moved into the lift standing in the back. "Aldamar, you have point when this lift hits bottom. Everyone else pick your poison." Rarda checked his hud. Looking to make sure everyone's IFF an vitals were reading. "Shade! You will have operational control over the troops once we have secured the security station." With everyone loaded the lift began its decent towards the lower levels.

The lift came to a stop and the doors slide open to reveal a long corridor.

Spoiler: Corridor

"Alright troopers this is our stop. Stay alert. Now move out!"

 

[Taz]

"Aldamar, you have point when this lift hits bottom."

As the doors hissed open, it wasn't being on point that bothered the young trooper; it was being in front of the guy who made the epic blunder of killing two of his own that made the hair on Athin's neck stand up. The commando wasted no time stepping out of the lift and moving with purpose down the dark corridor. The thought had crossed his mind to switch to Thermal but the steam ahead would make that pointless and perhaps for harm the good.

Athin approached the first cross section, peering round both corners. Nothing yet, it would appear that Charlie and Echo were doing a fine job thus far. Bringing up his HUD to check the map for a brief moment. "Clear, moving right", speaking short and at near a whisper into his com as he turned the hall and again began his purposeful pace. The commando marching with his E19 at the ready and set for 3 round burst. Without warning an office door slid open allowing a scientist to emerge just feet away for Athin.

The trooper took two running steps and leaped with a superman punch to the man's throat, grabbing the collar of the man's coat and smashing him in the face with a helmeted head butt to break the nose of the scientist on knock him unconscious. Athin then dropped the man and checked to clear the small office space. Before leaving the young trooper shouldered his rifle on the mag point in the back of his armor, lifted the man the man by the head for a moment and snapped his neck. Then returned the rifle to his hands and emerged from the office. Giving the hand signal for clear and moving forward.

 

[Tristar]

Corric winced mentally at the Major's rebuke; those extra 2 hours could've been spent cleaning his armour, true. Even if he didn't had his polishing kit, he was willing to bet nothing like a bit of spit and the bed sheets would have anything to say about the blood stains. The problem was, of course, he rather liked the bloody look. At the major's orders, he snapped another crisp salute followed with a,"Yes sir, won't happen again sir."

By then the general had already arrived, commenting on the Roach's pack and restricting his arsenal to only non-lethals. Corric didn't argue, he was in no such position to do so, and it was perfectly understandable. It didn't stop him from swearing under his breath a little as he handed his thermal, concussion and EC detonators (2 each) to Ishale, knowing she could probably handle them better than he would.

Then the general started the briefing.

It seemed more of a solid plan than their previous one, which was adhoc as hell, not that Corric had any complains about it, though getting shot wasn't the idea. At the mention of the opfor size, he gave a low whistle; that was about as big as a company, maybe even two. He had an uneasy feeling in his guts that wasn't related to his diet, but he had trust in his two officers that they had a plan for getting through this alive. Upon Sev's dismissal of the squad, he rechecked his K-9s again, mentally berating himself for not choosing a ACP like the one Sev had strapped on his thigh; it was a hell of a weapon, and while he only fired it during weapons training, he wouldn't mind using it again, to hell with kickback.

After giving Ishale a quick look-over, he gave her a thumbs up, and motioned her to check his own gear. When that was done, they duly marched to the VAAT, where they lifted off after a quick preflight check from the pilots to ensure all systems were nominal.

Onboard the flight, Rarda spoke up and filled in the rest of the op details, and honestly Corric did not envy Echo and Foxtrot for their jobs, easy as it was. As the briefing ended, he looked to his left where the demolitions was seated and nudged her with his elbow, catching her attention. When he spoke, he spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Hey, Roach. You ever heard of 'Brave young trooper?'. I'll teach you to pass the time, just sing along will you?"

He took a deep breath, scrunching up his face before softly singing, his voice barely audible over the constant whine of the engines.


"Brave young trooper, brave young trooper where have you been?
Been 'round the world and back again!


Brave young trooper, brave young trooper how did you go?
In a V-double AT, flying low!


Brave young trooper, brave young trooper what did you do?
Went and kill some scummies for me and you!


Brave young trooper, young trooper how did you get back?
In a black and gooold body bag!"


As the song ended, he gave a short laugh that hid his nervous emotion well. You didn't have to know the squad well to know there was some air of distrust from one of the privates, Aldamar was it? Corric could understand where it was coming from, and it personally didn't bother him much. Quite frankly, he was rather pleased; Aldamar dying or getting injured probably won't affect him as much as it would.

As the landing ramp released, Corric unstrapped himself from his seat and followed the rest of the squad out, following closely at the front. He was eager to get to clear his black mark and reputation; it would play hell on squad level cooperation and communication if he was branded as the 'Fracter' for the rest of his career.

When they reached the lift, the Major gave orders to a squad securing the perimeter and Corric's mind wandered off a little; infiltrating enemy territory may call for radio silence if they were to make their jobs easier, but he wasn't going to complain. About time he used his coursework for an actual op anyway.

And down they went.

Halfway through their descend, Corric slipped out his dual blasters and held them up to his cheeks, breathing silently, his mind blank. Rules of engagement: Shoot anything that moves on sight, stun red bands. Sound level to a minimum. This was a silent insertion, and as long as the enemy didn't know they were here, they would retain the element of surprise until they fired the first shot.

Ding

There was silent threading of rubber soles as the troopers moved efficiently and silently, keeping clear out of each other's line of fire. As for Corric, he was hunched and crouched in front of the other recruit, using his commo gear to shield the young trooper; A stormtrooper was worth a hundred communications gear, or more. Pistols aimed forward, arms slightly bent at the elbows, he kept close to their pointman as he gave them an all clear through their private channel; Corric frowned. That transmission could be breached,even if it was private and encrypted, it was still breakable by anyone within at least a ten meter radius; his training wasn't in vain, you know.

Still, the recruit held back his retort and followed Aldamar around the corner just in time to see a balding man in his mid forties come out from an office, whistling with a cup of coffee in his hands, a lab coat around him. Quick as a flash, the private dealt with the unexpected intruder but the china cup fell out of the poor sod's hands.

An empty corridor made for good echos; the breaking of china would herald their arrival sooner than he would've liked. Holstering his right blaster, he took a short leap by Aldamar's side and grabbed the cup mid air, saving them from an operational disaster from such a trivial detail. The liquid, he couldn't save, but it was a silent drop for the black coffee; china would've been bells and sirens. Cursing mentally, he gently set the cup in the office behind Aldamar, shutting the door as the executioner left the empty office. Bringing up his weapons again, they resumed their silent trek in the enemy lines, reminding Corric so much of the urban combat conditions he had been during his peacekeeping tour on Kessel; smugglers and rogue arms merchants could put up a hell of a fight. The silence and emptiness of the hallways was a little eerie for the trooper of 5 years, and he wondered why until he remembered Echo and Foxtrot companies were Assault and HOSTEN trooper companies respectively, which explains everything rather clearly.

So far down the corridor, there was no more errant scientist, most of them engrossed in their work, trusting their lives on the mercenaries that were probably not having the time of their lives. Neither was Corric, the prolonged cloak and dagger bullshit they had to endure to complete the mission grinding on the back of his mind but he had his orders, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be the first to break silence.

Maybe Aldamar would do so unintentionally and cause one hell of a FUBAR situation, then he'd know how it felt. The thought cheered Corric slightly, and he moved with a renewed vigor.

 

[Slamdingo]

Ishale frowned at the General's words, even if she wasn't facing him for him to see the expression. She didn't like it. She knew she could handle the weight and didn't like so drastically restricting her ammo count but - but frak, the General was the one who could kill things with his mind. If he said the generator had to go, then it had to go. The demolitions expert left the group to head for the armory once more at best speed. If she was going to get the generator turned in and get a bandoleer (or two) of ammo without delaying the mission then she needed to haul her ass. But thankfully there was an armory mercifully close off the flight deck where Ishale could strip herself of the generator and have it turned in for a bandoleer instead.

It was soon replaced with a bandoleer loaded to capacity with ammo, a few more charges in spare pockets, and with the lost weight Ishale was able to carry just a few more EMP and flash-grenades. Just the things for droids and room clearing in tight spaces.

Part of her also wanted to ditch the T-21 for, say, a conventional rifle. But as she stared at the sign-out forms on the counter in front of her, she remembered the battle droids they'd fought so hard against the last time. Against twenty or thirty more of the things?

Well to be honest she wasn't comfortable relying exclusively on the General's Force and it wasn't like they were going to be in any sort of environment for an RPG to take the T-21's place. Besides, somebody had to lug the heavy shit around, and this way Ishale could at least be more useful than the token "I've got bombs" girl accompanying the General who could rend steel with his mind like she was some sort of lost groupie who couldn't even try to claim she was sleeping with -

And she had just totally lost that train of thought. The armorer was giving her a funny look because she'd been popping the same power-pack in and out of its pocket of the bandoleer at least four or five times now. Ishale gave him a sour one in return and donned the bandoleer before jogging in the general direction of the VAAT they were going to be taking down. Though she didn't take an unwavering bee-line, instead moving to catch up with Corric, and slowing down to keep pace alongside him once she had.

"Hey." And the lack of a literally immediate response from her partner, because she left him no time to say anything, was followed by her leaning to bump against his arm with her own side, "Buck up, Jabber. Folks can hate on ya' all they want, but I would'a done the same thing if somebody went and shut a door on my hand. After we shred the place, you and I can go grab some beers or somethin', yeah? Maybe you can unwind and relax a little for once in a long while."

But that was all she could offer before heading to load up into the VAAT at the Major's orders. From there she had nothing to do but strap into a seat and wait for the Major's briefing. The mission was simple in premise. Deceptively so. The last time heading in had tuned into one hot mess and Ishale didn't expect this fight was going to be any easier. Last time it had been an impromptu raid on the part of the Major, Corric, and Ishale herself to aid the General in what had started out as a surprise raid. Now? Now the enemy would know they were coming, had time to prepare for them, and this time the 501st wasn't just knocking on the front door: they were heading into the beating heart of Line ARK's whole operation. Ishale didn't know what cruel workings of fate had all conspired together to have her dragged into an operation like this when she was only a young Recruit. Commando or not.

When Corric offered to teach her "Brave Young Trooper", Ishale didn't want to tell him that her Drill Sergeant in boot camp had always been fond of singing it literally every morning for six months before morning PT, albeit with a few modifications and differences, but she sang along quietly with him as they flew.

It was peaceful in its own way. It helped take her mind off of what was coming ahead of them, if only for a little while.

Touching down on the ground after the short flight back down to the site had led to a short jog for the lift they'd be taking down. It was already guarded by members of the 313th and 501st who all made way for the incoming black-armored commandos. The Major had a few parting words to the leader of the security force but Ishale wasn't too worried about what he might have to say to the guard force. Her biggest concerns were listening to who it was that was operating on point and the fact that the Sergeant was going to be the go-to authority once the first security checkpoint was taken down. Ishale re-adjusted the sling of her T-21 and moved to be roughly the fourth Trooper in line. Close enough to command figures that they could have a very quick reaction to orders from the team's second heaviest weapon, and not so far out to either end as to risk getting blasted in an ambush or unable to bring her repeater to bare in time because she was sprinting up and down their formation.

But it seemed that as they moved down the corridor, things couldn't go perfectly smoothly. An altercation erupted when a scientist came out from one of the doors that could be found periodically along the walls of the corridor. The Private of their party was the closest to take care of him but was so busy in dealing with him that it was up to Corric to make a last-ditch rescue of the falling cup lest something as ridiculous as shattering china exposed them. Of all the things that could get them killed, Ishale refused to entertain the thought of "exposed by china" as the reported cause of her death. But the duo had worked together like Troopers were trained to do. OPSEC was still intact - for now.

But with their point-man and communications expert both playing a rousing game of Slit-Throats Sammie, they were without a point-man or dedicated forward security. Ishale moved forward and took a knee at the opposite end of the hall where she could get partial cover from the decidedly too-shallow outcroppings periodically along the walls. With her weapon shouldered and the elbow of her supporting arm resting on her leg for further stability, Ishale kept her eyes and barrel pointed down the hall. The repeater was the last thing they wanted to go blasting off but - but - something came to Ishale.

"Ya know, for a place that just got blasted flat upstairs . . . where's all the security?" She whispered the question just loud enough that others, particularly the Sergeant, Major, and General, would hear her, "Seems like a pretty dead drag, yeah?"

 

[Jiang Winters]

Their initial entry into the facility was... Quiet.

Entirely too quiet for Sev's liking, in fact. He'd been tangling with LINE Ark for years. He knew their playbook as well as they did, and leaving the personnel shaft unguarded was not a play they'd make. Even when their forces were stretched to the breaking point they'd keep at least a pair of rifleman watching the entrance. It was entirely possible they'd panicked and withdrawn all their forces to the main access lift - judging by the occasional low rumble in the corridor floor, they had their hands full stopping the fully laden AT-TE the 501st had dug up and committed to the assault on the cargo lift. Ark likely didn't have enough anti-tank weapons to hand to take it out, and so the machine was almost certainly free to rampage through the cavernous storage halls underneath the facility. It explained all the shaking.

Still, why Ark didn't just pull back from the storage areas, seal them, and secure their other entrances was beyond Sev. Maybe the base commander was inexperienced. Maybe he'd panicked. Or, more likely, there was something else they were worrying about.

He set his thoughts aside. Aldamar and Corric knocked out a hapless scientist, while the rest secured the corridor. He locked his DC-11S to the back of his armor and drew his ACP gun off his leg thigh plate. The general flicked the safety off and held it in his dominant hand, while he used the left to manipulate a virtual map in his HUD. The office was the clue - Ark kept its security stations close to the lift, usually buffered by non-vital storage and cargo transfer areas. This base was built on a different pattern than was normal, though. A little fiddling with the map - and some helpful extrapolation from his astromech, Rhine, who was linked into the local battlenet - and the map rearranged into the next most likely pattern.

It turned out that it was an older pattern of facility. The lowest security level was on the first sublevel - which they presently occupied. Aside from the main lift, there was little security anywhere on the level. Which, unsurprisingly, was why the pattern had been phased out. Of the eight or so facilities he'd raised, he'd only seen it once before. At any rate there'd be very little resistance on the first sublevel save for around the security stations guarding each lift into the facility's depths. And, if Rhine's guess was correct (it was) then there was more than one personnel lift into the base. It was that they'd only discovered the central personnel lift. None of those lifts were guarded at all, as it was easier for the guards to fall back to the checkpoints securing the two interior personnel lifts than it was to cover every lift leading to the world above.

There was a way to bypass that though. He checked the map one last time, nodded to himself, then keyed his radio - he wasn't about to whisper, not when muting his helmet's external speakers and relying on his radio would render him virtually inaudible to any would-be eavesdroppers. "Change of plans. This facility's pattern is a little different than I'd expected - we won't be running into a security station if we continue he original plan, we'll run headlong into a heavily defended checkpoint. We're heading to a lab at the far end of this corridor, cutting through the floor, and dropping down into a storage facility beneath it, then heading south until we reach one of the outward security rooms. That should keep us off their radars for a little while - and out of the way of their repeating blasters."

 

[Neo Shark]

Cari was always glad to see troopers that didn’t drag their feet when reporting for a briefing. It spoke well of them, and meant less work for her. The Major was already conversing them when she finally reached them. Having already memorized their names and faces, she didn’t need the HUD from her helmet to tell her who was who.

Her helmet held in the crook of her left arm, the other rose in a salute, her expressionless face giving away nothing more than polite respect. She waited until the Major could turn to address her before speaking. “Sergeant Shade, reporting for duty Sir.”

She was expecting this next assignment to be a potential career changer. It wasn’t every day that you were pulled to work directly under a Major and a General. So the Major’s next words were an unpleasant reminder that not everything goes as you hope. Given the short notice, she had spent most of her time familiarizing herself with the people she would be working with. Their strengths and weaknesses, their history, and anything else that had been pertinent. To find a few of the soldiers already here, despite how early she was, had been a pleasant surprise, but now it had turned sour.

Nothing showed on her face, but she was suddenly less hopeful for the outcome of this mission. The only sign of her internal thoughts was a slight flattening of her ears. Rather than try to defend herself she merely responded with a simple, “Understood Sir.” She dismissed his last statement as simple bravado, and not worth worrying over.

Turning away, she found that the rest of the squad had arrived behind her, as well as the General himself. “Officer on deck,” she belted out, as well as bracing to attention and saluting the General. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the rest of the squad mimic her motion, and relaxing at the General’s casual return salute and nod.

She watched in silence as the General approached several of the troopers, addressing them familiarly, before finally starting their briefing. Care quickly tuned out the random noise of the hangar, her entire attention focused on the General’s words. She took mental notes of key points, committing important details to memory, and making sure the rest of the squad was also paying attention.

His last words seemed directed at her specifically, and she could see his point. She’d brought the DE7 along as more of a backup weapon, in the unlikely event the encountered a situation where such a weapon would be required. However, she didn’t see it being too likely, and had packed her pouches mostly full of ammo for her E75. The rest were filled with plenty of grenades and the usual odds and ends stuffed into the utility belts. Plus, she barely even noticed the thing on her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although not the first, or even second, out of the lift, she made sure she wasn’t the last. Her eyes swept the corridor as the rest of the squad flowed out of the lift. It wasn’t the perfection of a team that had run countless missions together, each person slotting into their position without having to be told, but it was close. Their training gave them a common shared experience. With time, they could become a well oiled machine.

Her brows tried to creep upwards behind her concealing helmet. They encountered no one until reaching the first intersection. Athin and Corric, one after the other, leaped for the suddenly appearing scientists. Both targets were taken out quickly and quietly.

Cari moved up with Ishale, covering the corridor with her blaster rifle. Her own thoughts echoed the woman’s words, and her eyes searched for hostiles as the rest of the squad formed around them.

For a base that was under attack, you would think that the non combat personnel would have evacuated to a safer location, instead of remaining in their office. I guess Line ARK doesn’t really care about their people, she thought to herself.

Her attention was returned to the present upon hearing the General’s voice over the coms. Without access to the map herself, she had no way of forming her own opinion, so had to take him at his word. Hopefully, everything went according to plan. She opened her mouth to order the squad to move out, but halted before she could utter a sound. The Major still had control of the squad, and would until they had secured the Security Station.

Her hand flexed on the barrel of her weapon. She didn't like having someone controlling what was supposed to be her squad, but she didn't have much choice in the matter.

 

[Ravensmark]

Rarda followed his troops down the corridor, and was amused to see how well the troopers were working together. Aldamar and Andara has swiftly and deftly dealt with the scientist like they had been working together for years. But that was the odd point only one scientist. No guards, no checkpoints, it was far to quite.

Then the General spoke and explained what was going on.

The group changed course and quickly found the lab.

Major Rarda was the last to enter the lab, and looked around to see if there were any access ways. Seeing no shafts or hatches, Rarda reached up grabbed a hold of one of the Shota's on the Generals back and pulled it free of its hard point. He strode towards the center of the lab. He ignited the blade, knelt down, and drove the blade into the floor. Sparks flew as he pulled the blade through the steel floor. He keep the blade at a sharp inner angle so when his hole was completed the metal would not fall to the floor below. Rarda made quick work of it cutting a one meter hole in the floor.

Rarda stood up. Closing down the miniature light saber and tossing it towards the General. "Sir! Catch!" With that said and the unfamiliar blade out of his hands he reached down and pulled the large sheet of metal out of the way. He peered down the hole, and found himself staring into what he presumed to be the shower facilities of a locker room. "Sir. Data was off a bit again. Not a storage room, but a locker room. We need to hit up a security checkpoint just to get the right maps of this place." Rarda pushed himself off the floor and pointed towards Aldamar. "Ok trooper, your up. Clear the room below and lets move."

Rarda turned towards Sergeant Shade. "Ok Sergeant all troop movements are yours now."

 

[Taz]

The commando was starting to lose confidence in the operation. The intel was lacking, from troop strength to map layout, nothing was making much sense. They were ill equipped to go spelunking into the unknown and the farther they went the more that became true. He was in little position to voice his opinion of the matter however. He decided the best approach was to just keep moving, as far as he was concerned now it was weapons free. If he was going to dye it would be fighting and standing over a pile of power cells.

Athin switched the E-19 to full auto and pulled a smoke grenade from his pouch. His helmet switched to thermal view as he tossed the grenade into the room below. Giving the smoke about 20 seconds to began filling the room before leaping down. The locker room was a mix of mist and smoke, a miasma that would be nearly impossible to see threw without the assistance of optics. The commando moved spun about the clear the opening before moving to a wall at the right of the opening in the ceiling. The room was clear but that made perfect sense with the fireworks going on the upper level it would be all hands to defensive positions.

"clear, move in", Athin spoke into the comlink as he moved toward the doorway at the edge of the way. Pieing the corner seeing no one in locker room attached to the showers. The trooper waited for the rest to drop down before he continued.

 

[Tristar]

Corric kept to himself as they traversed the eerie hallways, forming a half assed plan with every inch they gained. Enemy territory was enemy territory, and no amount of soldiers could beat off the home base advantage. If a firefight broke loose within the corridors, it would essentially be the most bloody bottleneck, ending with a major decisive victory for the mercenaries.

Luckily for all of them, not a single breathing unit appeared as they made their way to one of the empty rooms that adorned the hallways, a laboratory of sorts judging from all of the unidentifiable and weird looking instruments that Corric could only half guess what all of them do, and even then he could be wrong. For all he knew, they were just a very complex coffee making machine; he could use a cup of latte.

He stood at ease as the Major began to breach the floor with one of the General's lightsabers; he had to admit, the Chiss had balls. If it were his lightsabers, no one would touch them bar himself. The general did not voice any open complains however, and soon they had a 1 by 1 meter hole, tossing the hilt back to Sev who deftly caught it. Then their pointman went in after tossing in a smoke grenade. There was a short moment of silence until there came a muffled all clear. Huffing crossly to himself, he crouched down to the edge, switching on thermals and lowered his head down, to be greeted with an upside down view of the room, checking it for himself; you could never be too sure. Happy that he wouldn't get shot the first moment he dropped down into the room, he pulled himself back up, brought his pistols up and promptly dropped himself into the locker room with some scuffling as he struggled to not fall down from the sheer ungainliness of his heavy pack. It was 5 seconds before he could stand up halfway into a hunched position and brought his pistols to bear, taking in the full scene of the room.

So far, it was approximately 6 meters in width and nearing 10 in length, a pretty sizeable locker room with 4 rows of lockers, giving them a urban maze feeling to it; there was nothing flashy, simple grey walls with grey metal lockers. There was a row of benches in between each 2 locker-walls with nothing on them; neat and orderly, Corric had to admire. The lighting was horrible, due to the fact that the Major literally sliced off the main light out of the ceiling; what was left were the locker lights, casting long shadows from their figures. As Aldamar took the right of the room, Corric hunkered down on the opposite side, where the exit was, since the private had the shower rooms covered. Satisfied with his defensive cover, he tight beamed a small radio transmission to their furry Sergeant, who now had op control of the Fireteam, whom Corric would bet had been itching for since they arrived.

"Up next, room's clear. Keep them orderly though, one at a time; not much room to maneuver without making too much noise. Any heavy gear goes first, I'll catch it but notify us."

 

[Jiang Winters]

Sev snatched his saber out of the air and returned it to its slot. He'd hardly expected Rarda to simply take the weapon and use it to breach - then again, he'd intended to cut through the floor himself, and the diminutive shoto was hardly dear to him. He snapped its armored housing shut without a word and took a peek down into the still-glowing hole that'd been sliced through the deck. Rarda merely confirmed what he could see. The map was off. Continuously off. They wouldn't be able to rely on it until they'd taken an up-to-date copy from the security station.

Their point man tossed smoke and dove on in, and was followed shortly by Corric. Sev checked their rear, and at the same time checked in on the progress in the main hangar via the battlenet. No casualties on the Imperial side thus far. As they'd predicted, the Ark troopers didn't have any useful anti-vehicle weapons and so weren't able to stop the AT-TE from utterly mauling the area surrounding the cargo lift. The legged machine had gone on an absolute rampage and, thus far, had proven unstoppable.

Satisfied that the main push was making good progress, Sev killed his connection to the battlenet and checked their rear. It was as clear as it'd been when they entered the lab, and would likely be clear for the next little while. The staff seemed to have pulled back. If he had to guess, they'd be on the lower levels, with only a few researchers running about.

The general waited 'till the entire squad was in before he followed – he took a moment to seal the lab entrance, then jumped down into the smoke-flooded locker room to join the gang.

Two things immediately went wrong. First, smoke from the grenade had billowed out of the locker room and into the hall outside. A fire alarm screeched to life, while a host of automated sprinklers came on-line and doused everything top to bottom. The security stations were alerted to the 'fire' on the second sublevel and promptly dispatched a squad armed with fire extinguishers in addition to their blaster rifles. It wouldn't be long until that element ran headlong into the stormtroopers.

Second, and perhaps more immediately worrying for Sev, was the floor's structual integrity. Or, rather, its lack thereof. The steel plating and the framework beneath it caved under Sev's weight, which was apparently considerable given the sudden shriek of metal as the floor simply opened up.

He went right through and, in the process, lost his ACP gun. The room into which he was falling was best described as an abyss – its walls and floors were obscured in darkness, which extended far and wide. It was a vast room, and that was rather frightening given that gravity was rather insistent on pulling him headlong towards the bottom. Sev scrabbled for his DC-11S, ripped it free of his back, and fired the cable attachment straight up. The piton embedded itself in some element of the ceiling sturdy enough to hold his weight, for the line went taut.

“Oh, no,” he muttered; he'd fired the line at an angle, and so he was now swinging forwards dangerously fast. A quick thought switched his helmet's vision mode to low-light amplification just in time to see the wall. “Oh, shit!”

He hit with a thunk loud enough that the troopers in the locker room likely heard. The DC-11S' stock creaked, but, miraculously, held fast. He wasn't so sure about the piton, though, and hurriedly played out enough line to start lowering himself – at the same time, he used the magnetic clamps in his boots to cling to the metallic black wall. The general glanced up – the hole in the ceiling had suddenly covered itself over with a shimmering red forcefield.

It dawned on him that the facility had been constructed with thin floors and ceilings to save space – it relied on structural integrity fields to keep its strength. If power was fluctuating in the facility, it'd explain the sudden weakness in the floor... And the sudden reappearance of that force field.

Sev's feet touched solid ground. He cut the cable and turned himself around; the room was tall enough to stand two AT-AT's one atop the other, and it was plenty wide and long, too. The floor was covered in duracrete chips, expended blaster cartridges, and a mess of broken and toppled duracrete blocks and barricades. A training hall – a massive one.

He keyed his comms, thought better of it, and instead flashed a status to Shade and Rarda; a green blip by his name in the squad feed. It was an 'OK' status – no injuries, all good, proceeding.

Sev took a moment to double-check his kit; once satisfied that he'd only lost his ACP gun and his pouch of capacitor cells for it, he headed out. He'd find an exit and work his way up towards the squad – they'd likely have the worst of it, though, thanks to that fire alarm summoning buckets of attention right to their position.

 

[Tristar]

Dangling with one hand grasping the thin cable, Corric looked around with a very sunken heart; how the hell was he going to get down from there? When he called in for his sergeant to drop in the heavy luggage, the good general was not what he had in mind, and when the floor literally consumed the stormtrooper, he had the unfortunate luck of being a victim of proximity and fell into the hole. Unlike the elder, the stormtrooper did not have anything of the likes of a grappling hook, so as he fell down the deep chasm the Anaxxian gave up on life.

That was, until a taut cable shot upwards near Corric, who instantly grabbed the rope.

Which left him in his current position, his pistols having lost in the consuming chaos but having snatched the trooper's ACP for some miraculous grace; hey, at least he got his wish. Granted, it came with a cost of being dangled nearly 200 meters off the floor. Feeling the jerking of the cable, he loosened his grip and slid down the entire length of the rope and dropping onto his feet behind the white-armoured soldier. A little shaken from the current events, he took in the view of the room that they were in, and had to whistle (which probably notified Sev of his position, having being silent during the entire duration of the fall, too scared to even give out a terrified yelp.) and nodded sagely as though it was what he had expected all along.

Which actually wasn't. It only added to the mystery of why they were here. That's it. If you were expecting more, beat it; Corric was just a soldier and took orders when he felt that it would work. So far, there was nothing too unusual down in the site. No creeping crawling slime monsters, and no cannibalistic creatures that they had to fend off with. That in mind, he checked the massive gun and rattled it; it had a full magazine of 8 shots, but that was it. No other ammunition except for his pistols, Corric was left in a very unfortunate situation indeed.

Handing Sev a sarcastic salute, the recruit immediately dropped into his combat stance and kept the ACP scatter gun at the ready; first thing he needed to find would be another K9 pistol, or failing that another blaster that would accept his magazines. Or failing even that, a goddamn blaster rifle and a dead body with its ammunition stripped off. He wasn't above the level of literally killing another human or alien being for a goddamn loaded weapon and spare ammunition.

He'd killed 2 Navy Personnel, what else did he need more?

"Hell General, when I told Sarge to drop in the heavy gear, I didn't think it'd be you. Or even that you'd be this bloody heavy. What now though?"

 

[Jiang Winters]

Sev was more than a little surprised to discover he was not alone in the dark.

Corric was with him. Captain Butterfingers himself. The jolly bomber, friendly fragger, the blue-on-blue wunderkid.

He chuckled and slowly shook his head. Corric, at this point in his military career, really had nothing to lose and everything to gain. And he was plenty brave! (If, perhaps, a tinge crazy.) "It's the doughnuts in the officer's lounge that made me this way. Don't ever eat the officers doughnuts, Corric. Very fattening." Were it not for his helmet, Corric would've spotted a mile-wide grin dominating the General's features. The other soldier had somehow wound up with his ACP array gun, which was fine by him. Sev unclipped the bandoleer of spare power 'cartridges' for the array gun and held it up for Corric to see before tossing it to him.

"We'll get out of this hall and regroup with the gang near the lifts. We're down with the labs now, though, so stick close and - for the love of all that is good and holy, Corric - don't touch anything."

The Stormtrooper officer unfolded the stock on his DC-11S, at which point it finally gave up the ghost and sapped right off the weapon. Sturdy as it was, it simply wasn't designed to handle his immense weight. He discarded the broken stock and resigned himself to using the weapon as a heavy pistol. He made for the far end of the hall, where he could just barely make out a faint glowing outline around the door - even with night vision kit it was still almost invisible, oddly enough. He shut off his helmet's night vision as he reached the door and turned on his helmet torches. He crouched and briefly examined the door, fidgeted with the control panel for a moment, then drew the lightsaber resting on his left hip.

"It's busted, but I'll fix it."

The shimmering blue blade ignited; Sev carved a rough but serviceable hole in the thin metal door in a matter of moments and returned the weapon to his hip. "Fixed."

He kicked in the still-standing hunk of metal; light flooded into the training hall as he stepped out and into the wide corridor running alongside it. There, standing with his toes less than an inch from the lump of scrap metal that'd fallen to the deck, was a wiry human scientist with curly black hair and dark skin. "...Well, you lot are certainly the biggest girl scouts I've ever seen. I'll take a box of thin mints and a set of handcuffs, please," he remarked in a surprisingly nonchalant tone, as he dropped his clipboard and extended his hands, wrists locked together.

Sev nearly shot him anyways, but at the last moment noticed a red patch on the left shoulder of the fellow's labcoat. "Don't have handcuffs, but I do have mint-flavored stunblasts available. If you'd take a seat as so not to injure yourself when you fall, sir." The scientist sat himself down by the wall without protest; Sev blasted him twice with the DC-11S's stun feature. He twitched, then slumped over and was still.

He flicked his rifle back to burst fire and moved right past the unconscious scientist. "The layout down here is fairly similar... Keep an eye out for anything labeled as a server room. There might also be cloning facilities, and there'll be a couple operating theatres and machine shops for making up cybernetics. We're interested in all of that, but servers first. It'll be easier for them to wipe data than destroy the labs here, so that's gotta be our priority."

 

[Slamdingo]

There were three conventional methods for entering a room or a building first taught to any Trooper in training. While each was effective, they were only the foundation of more advanced methods taught later, and each was plagued by simple problems that could spiral quickly out of control.

The very first method was - coming through the door. Blasting it open, kicking it open, or even being measurably civil and just using the handle were all ways that a Trooper could get through a doorway into a room. However the problem with these miraculous portals of modern architecture was the infamously (and appropriately) titled "fatal funnel" where a single stumble or hesitation in step could get a whole squad fragged.

The second was blasting your way through the wall. With enough explosives, any Trooper had at least enough rudimentary training to blast a breach-point in through a wall. Of course the problems came from shrapnel filling the room if sensitive equipment or hostages were an issue within, plus the nature of blowing open a wall left no doubt just where you were planning to enter the room from for those inside waiting for you.

The third was climbing in through a window. Awkward, clumsy, and usually best reserved for clandestine movements: it was a fatal funnel even worse than that of any door ever.

So since the conventional methods were so patently dangerous, Troopers had developed more - unconventional ways of entering rooms.

For example, the roof.

Ishale was rather surprised to see the General not say a single word of protest as the Major drew one of the senior officer's sabers to start cutting through floor of the room they were in. After that she was even m ore surprised when she didn't hear any calls of alarm or blaster fire coming back up through the hole from whoever was down below. Their point-man popped smoke and went down first. Jabber followed down after him. With two Troopers already down there and not screaming about enemy contact, the demolitions expert determined it was safe enough for her to go down. Her repeater was passed down to whoever was down there waiting to take it and only a few moments after it came the gunner herself to land with a light roll to get out of the way of the others still coming down.

"Thanks, Jabber. Surprised to see ya' didn't manage to kill a shiny with it yet, yeah?" She grinned under her helmet at the comms specialist as she retrieved her weapon and moved to get prone watching the entrance with her weapon.

"Moved to" was the operative part of that action, however. Ishale didn't get the chance as the last person in their group, the General, came through the hole, and not more than three feet behind Ishale the ground ripped open. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see not only the General but also Corric get consume by the newly opened hole. At that point the young woman was acting more on instinct than thought as she dropped her weapon and dove for the hole with one out-stretched arm. She had no illusions of catching the General, or of his needing somebody to catch him considering what he was, but Corric . . .

. . .

There was no near-miss. There was no grazing his hand with her fingers. No "so close".

Only empty air and darkness met her hand as Ishale stared down into the darkness.

"CORRIC!" Ishale yelled down into the opening, "CORR-. . ." Her words choked out at the end, with only a strangled gasp of surprise and pain.

When the shield came back online, the very one that had flickered out and caused the General and the team's comms expert to fall through the floor, Ishale's arm had still been outstretched down the opening from her desperate attempt to catch Corric. Even if Ishale had known about the shield or the possibility of it, her reaction wasn't quicker than the speed of light. The good news was that the cut was clean with the wound already cauterized the moment it happened. The bad news was that it was two thirds of her left arm taken off. It seemed even her Trooper's armor hadn't been able to protect her from the shield.

Her remaining arm was starting to shake and unable to support her weight. With that happening all Ishale could do was fall to that side, rolling on her back as her right (and only, now) hand shakily reached out to touch the stump that Ishale was staring at in horror.

"I - I - I'm h-hit." Laying splayed out on the floor, otherwise unmoving, that was all she could manage over closed channels with the rest of the team, "I'm - hit bad. S-somebody h-h-help. Please." At this point she was grinding her teeth and it was getting harder and harder to see with tears welling up in her eyes.

It was a small mercy as the slowly building pain began to fade. Her suit's auto-injectors detected the situation and were doing their job admirably.

 

[Tristar]

The recruit snatched the bandoleer cleanly out of the air, and with a few rudimentary adjustments had it strapped around his torso diagonally firmly; he pumped his weapon once, and heard the audible clack of a round entering the chamber. The trooper afforded a small smile for himself despite his pretty damn sh*tty position. The general had a good sense of humor even in the darkest of situation (In this case literally) and who was Corric to deny the man a good jolly laugh? No one at all. It was a little intriguing for the trooper however, for he swore he heard someone call out his name when he dropped down with the doughnut man.

Illusion? Not the most improbable of situations, but it can happen. Patting his weapon, Andara caught sight of his superior walking over the other end of the hall, and was on the verge of following him when something hard struck his helmet, loud enough that the general would've heard it by then. Getting off of his knees, the grumbling soldier looked upwards, and saw nothing but the bright red that marked the shielding that failed to stop their fall. Snorting, Corric looked down and saw a finger. Which wouldn't be strange, were it not for the fact that one of his hands were feeling the back of his head and the other planted firmly against the ground to support him. His eyes looked forward, dreading the impending news.

An arm.

And it bore the stark white colors of the stormtrooper corp; the fingers twitched as he stared at it, and he nearly lost his stomach at the sight of the limb. It was starting to come back to him, the voice who called him out. The arm that lay in front of him. Snapping his head forward to catch the sight of the general slinking through a recently cut doorway, Corric quickly sent a transmission to the breaching trooper.

"Sir; we've got a downed trooper topside. Arm's missing. Going to find out who it is, stay close."

Not waiting for an affirmative, the radioman got to his feet and looked upwards; the shielding most probably had some sort of EW countermeasures on it. Not too bad of a problem for him. Dropping his hard case, he knelt down and snapped open the tactical cover that hid the buttons and his means of communicating with his communications rig. Dialling up the frequency and boosting range and power of his signal alone, he punched through the shielding and managed to make contact with the rest of the group, though if anyone heard his transmission, his voice would be mixed in with an abundance of white noise. Grunting at a work well done for the current moment, he spoke.

"This is Jabber; The Papa Bear is fine I repeat, Papa Bear is kicking. But we've got a question here, Top Hat: Which one of you lost a chip on their block? Cause I've got a big chunk down here with me, and it's creeping me out. Flash once with your IFF transponder, we'll get that loud and clear."

Corric nearly took his finger off his radio before applying more pressure on it and continuing his message.

"Oh, and Top Hat? Jabber and Papa Bear may be gone for awhile, so don't fret. We'll meet up at secondary rendezvous. Think vertically. Over and out."

When he finished his message, Andara had to double time it to the general and practically leapt through the hole in the wall, and nearly tumbling against the opposite wall. Recovering hastily, the trooper snapped back and aimed his shotgun at hip-level, keeping the other end of the hallway clear. There was a body, slumped over against the wall. Breathing. Not so good, but the general must've thought it a wise choice. Snorting, he swung back to the back of the general and tapped his shoulder once to confirm that their 6 was clear.

Now all they could do was push on, and Corric loved pushing.