Jegora was on his way back to the Jester barracks when the datapad Angel threw back at him after Thrawn's message started to beep. Jager looked at Jegora, shook his head and said, "1000 credits if you just ignore it."

Sighing heavily, Jegora flipped on the datapad and wondered what new horrors Angel had in mind for them so soon.

OOC:

Jester

Phase I Objective 1: Did You Remember the Bug Zappers?
Location:Victory-I Class Star Destroyer Dominion
Equipment:

• Standard Squad Loadout
• One (1) Personal Choice Weapon

Orders:The Dominion will play a secondary role behind the platforms in orbital defense. Jester will take a shuttle to the Dominion and take up position in the main hangar bay to repel boarders.
Opposition: Ten (10) Squads of Imperial Shocktroopers
Add'l Equip.: None
NPC Support:Five (5) Squads of Star Corps Troops (Marines)
Max Posts: 15
Additional Information:

• VSD Information
• VSD-I Dominion
• Shock Troopers

There were many things which Jager never spoke of. He had never told anyone that his middle name was Eustace, he had never told anyone that he once had the hots for a blood relative, he had never breathed a word about the first time he'd ever shot at a living person which resulted in him wetting himself. But those were in the past and for a while he figured that such a list would gather dust in the dark recesses of his mind, which is where it would have been condemned until recently.

It all started with a girl. A nice, well mannered sort with a good head atop her shoulders and a steady career in her wake. They first met through work, though at the time neither thought much of it, after all there were far more pressing tasks at hand then an inter-office romance. But as their association continued over the weeks things began to escalate. It was the end of his shift. The sergeant in charge of his detail had given the group the night off and he had decided to wet his whistle with some contraband.

Some may say partaking in such indulgences whilst on such a dangerous exercise was near on suicidal, but Jager thought of it more as playing to his character. After all who would they be more likely to suspect, the obsessively clean and sober type or the new guy who was only looking to relieve some stress with a strong drink.

It was then she arrived at his door. Why she was there he never got to hear, something work related most likely. At first she was as shocked as he was intoxicated, mildly, so he did what any well mannered gentlemen would have done, he made her an offer she couldn't refuse. A drink and someone to talk to.

As things went it became obvious that the two had a lot in common, then as the night went on things escalated considerably. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps they were both lonely whatever it was they still arrived at the same conclusion and, by proxy, the same bed.

The next morning, though the entire concept of day and night was skewed whilst in the depths of space, neither regretted what they had done. Though she seemed to shoulder a terrible guilt towards something, as if her moral compass had been sent into a free fall. When Jager pointed it out she went silent, collected her things and left. Later she apologized for it, citing an unrelated matter as the cause of her departure.

It was after all this that things began clicking into place, eventually the pieces formed to create a rather absurd scene. After all, what could be more absurd then an Intelligence officer defecting and leaving the Jester's at the mercy of her newly acquired comrades.

The scene played out like a bad case of Deja Vu. In their attempt to collect information a silent alarm was triggered, a silent alarm set by the person who had given them the passwords, Faith Moraal. The Jesters were no push-overs and they certainly weren't going down without a fight, and in the end either through shear chance or divine intervention they managed to escape the Chimera and return home.

Jager was conflicted. At first he was understandably angry, after all they had only just escaped a brush with death. Anger, however, was too strong a word, something more along the lines of hurt. Without trust the galaxy was a cold and merciless place. As time marched on he slowly began to see the reasoning behind it, she was conflict as well... she had told him about her family and it was clear that she blamed the Empire for their deaths and the pain she felt.

Revenge was a mixed blessing. For one it gave a person something to focus all their sorrow and pain on, after all hate was the driving force behind the galaxy. But at the same time it manipulated those who followed it, clouding their vision of the grander picture. Because once everything was said and done, all a person would have left was their sorrow and pain.

Yet still his conflict remained. He could have... no... he should have said something to Jegora. And in not doing so he nearly cost the lives of everyone in the squad, including himself. And of course, if he ever told the truth to anyone he would no doubt be branded a traitor.

In the end he came to a decision. Whilst the low hum of the lambda's engines beckoned the squad towards their uncertain fates he made a pledge, a pledge that he would never speak a word about what had transpired between Moraal and himself. He also pledged that he would be the one to end this. He would be the one to kill her, not out of anger but out of pity.

If she succeeded in destroying the Empire she would be condemned to live out the rest of her days with the guilt of what she had done, with only the cold memory of her departed loved ones to keep her company. Of course, if she failed and fell into the hands of the Vast Empire, then he shuddered to think what would become of her.

It would only be in the embrace of death were she would truly find peace, and it would be Jager alone who would deliver her into it.

-------

The Jesters sat in a communal silence for the trip. No one wanted to be there. After the Chimera most wanted to have a few weeks off, visit friends and relatives, read a book or simply lounge around an abode of their choosing. Instead they were sent head long into what would could only be classified as certain death in order to defend everything they held dear. With such high stakes riding on the outcome there would be only two was they would be returning home, either as victors or in body bags.

It was Stone, one of the greener members of the squad who broke the silence with a question that no one could seem to answer, "Why are we going to the Dominion?"

It seemed to make sense to everyone, but it was a sense that could only be achieved through a heavy amount of fatigue and stress, and the Jesters had both factors in spades. However it was the crew of the 'Dominion' who answered, A burst of radio chatter echoed through from the cockpit. The message was as troubling as it was simple,

"Multiple contacts incoming, starboard side, confirmed boarding vessels."

Their objective had suddenly become a lot clearer. Repel the boarders, defend the 'Dominion' and in turn defend the empire. Now with a vigor that only dangerous amounts of frustration and hate could induce, the Jesters seemed more ready and alert. Suddenly the once quiet shuttle burst into life as they began their last minute checks on their gear as the shuttle sped towards the 'Dominions' main docking bay. Hate truly was the driving force behind the universe.

Mai was more than familiar with the bitter taste of betrayal.  She had been sold as a slave by her starving family at the tender age of twelve summers. She had been consistently been promised and subsequently denied freedom by dozens of abusive masters during the course of her captivity. She had been sold out and betrayed more times than she could recall by supposed allies and friends during her stint as a smuggler and hand for hire. And now she had been deceived by a supposed comrade in arms within the stolid ranks of the Vast Empire.

Despite the obvious shock of the other members of Jester Squad, Mai couldn’t honestly say that she was surprised at the turn in events. She had learnt the hard way that the path to survival lay with complete and utter self-reliance. Whilst she had come to grudgingly respect the majority of her squad mates since her enlistment in the army, she had barely lowered the concrete walls subconsciously erected about her true self. It was a futile hope to believe in the integrity of another individual and the stint on the Chimaera had simply reinforced this simple fact. No-one could be trusted. Despite the ranting and raving of the drill Sergeants about ‘the necessity of cohesion to achieve victory’ it had all boiled down to the performance of single soldier.  Faith Moraal had thrown in her lot with the enemy. And now the entire VE was suffering as a direct result of her actions.

“Let’s kill these bastards.”

Jegora’s words were necessarily uplifting, but the fire behind the words was notably absent. The SL of Jester Squad was exhausted, emotionally and physically.  He stood straight and tall amongst the waiting VE troopers, a necessary pillar of strength in an otherwise relatively unprepared battle group.  An even greater toll would be extracted on the Platoon Sergeant over the course of the next few hours as Jester fought alongside the members of the Dominion to hold Thrawn at bay. It remained to be seen whether or not the usually stalwart Jegora would falter and finally fall.

“We’re too exposed.”

The marine to Mai’s right was obviously terrified, the slight waver in his voice as much of a giveaway as the stink of human sweat emanating from beneath his armpits. Mai bared her teeth beneath her helmet in disgust at the unpleasant scent. Jegora had carefully placed the few members of Jester throughout the larger group of marines in an attempt to bolster the tentative command structure of the Dominion’s defence team. Mai had been ordered to one of the front barricades alongside Jager and twenty of the marines. They would be the first in line when the boarding force finally broke through the blast doors and would most be forced to retreat when they were overrun.

“We won’t be able to hold here.” The marine spoke up again, oblivious to Mai’s disgust. He ducked down beneath the crudely constructed barricade as another explosion tore at the blast door only a few hundred meters away. The metal shrieked in protest at the brutal treatment but stubbornly held itself in place. Nonetheless Mai was sure the structure had been weakened. Thrawn’s forces were minutes away from gaining access.

“Shut it.” Jager addressed the frightened marine without removing his gaze from the failing blast doors.

“We’ll die as soon as they open,” The marine’s voice reached a desperate pitch, its tone breaking the concentration of the other members of the group and causing them to shuffle in disquiet in their positions.

“Enough!” Mai latched on to the marine’s shoulder with an audible snarl, heaving the larger man back and away from the barricade. The soldier flew back from the relative safety of the barricade and into the open ground between the next. Such was the force of Mai’s throw that he lost his footing and crumpled to the metallic floor with an audible cry of shock. The entire battle group regarded him for a moment before the disgraced marine scrambled quickly to his feet and scurried back into line next to Mai. He was breathing heavily, his fear replaced by anger. A much more useful emotion for a soldier that was about to fight for his very life.

Another explosion abruptly shook the floor beneath Mai’s feet, followed quickly by a series of smaller blasts obviously aimed at weakened points in the blast doors structure. The metal shrieked again in its death throes, peeling back like paper under the force of the detonation before casting itself outward from the shattered frame. Superheated chunks of metal flew through the air to land heavily amongst the waiting lines of the VE forces. Mai ducked down with the others behind cover as grenades cascaded through the opening in the blast doors in perfectly timed arcs towards their position. The resulting explosions rebounded harmlessly off the prepared barricades without a single fatality.

Screams sounded as the first wave of the invading soldiers flooded in after their grenades, dazzling in the gleaming armor of Stormtroopers. There was something truly chilling about being fired upon by an image usually associated with familiarity and safety. Mai roared back along with the other Jester members and marines as they rose to their feet to stop the tide. Her finger pulled back on the trigger of her rifle...and the fight was truly begun.

The hardest thing for a soldier to learn isn't how to shoot, or how to kill, or even how to watch friends die and keep on fighting. No, the hardest thing about soldiering isn't the actual soldiering, it's the long waits in between the bouts of soldiering. Patience, along with the ability to remain loose and focused in the presence of the enemy, was perhaps the greatest and most useful skill a soldier of any caliber could possess. Even the greenest private could overcome the most experienced noncom if he had the willpower and the patience to out-think and overcome his enemy.

Patience was something Jegora had learned early on in his soldiering career, even before he joined the Stormtrooper Corps. After all, he had been in the Navy before transferring to the Corps, and nine-tenths of a pilot's life is waiting for deployment. He had quickly learned to deal with the anxiety caused by the endless waiting, and it had been a simple matter to relate those experiences to combat on the ground once he had joined the Corps. So it was that Jegora was able to keep his calm as the Shocktroopers charged the barricades. He was able to pick his targets at will and let loose control bursts of fire with his A280, bursts that almost always made contract with something white and shiny. Not every shot Jegora made resulted in a kill, but every shot he made resulted in pain for the enemy, and that was good enough for now.

Some of the Marines, however, weren't emulating Jegora's example. They were sticking their E-11s over the barricades at random, letting loose ineffective and erratic bursts of fire that didn't even manage to come close to the enemy, creating holes in the wall of fire the Vast Empire troops were using to keep Thrawn's troops at bay. The Remnant Shocktroopers, experienced in battle and well trained in the arts of war, noticed this immediately and used it to their advantage. They advanced through the gaps in the suppressive fire, and all Jegora could do was watch them come. There was so much ground to cover that if he switched his focus to the advancing troops, the troops he was keeping pinned down would be able to advance in the same manner.

So he did the only thing he could do: he kept firing. He kept his head down, he kept putting enemy body parts between the tritanium holographic sights of his A280, and he kept pulling the trigger.

The battle drug on. More and more Shocktroopers poured into the hangar, and Jegora knew that the Vast Empire forces were close to breaking. The Marines were skilled, and the Jesters were one of the best combat units in the galaxy, but the Remnant Shocktroopers were simply too numerous and too strong to beat back. They came in an endless wave, wielding standard E-11s along with heavier weapons. Once Jegora saw a barricade several meters away get struck by a cone of flame. The Marines taking shelter behind the barricade managed to hit the deck and avoid most of the inferno, but it was demoralizing all the same...at least, it was until Jager opened up on the Shocktrooper wielding the flamethrower with his Tyrant chain gun. Jegora watched the spectacle with a grim smile on his face; an eye for an eye, he thought to himself as the Shocktrooper was literally torn apart by the hail of fire. An eye for an eye, with interest.

Still, such victories were few and far between. The Shocktroopers were taking casualties, but so were the Marines. So far none of the Jesters had been seriously injured, but Jegora figured it was only a matter of time. The Shocktroopers were advancing slowly now, but they were still advancing. They lead the way with huge blastshields that required two men to move, but offered protection for three more. Using these tactics the Shocktroopers were able to advance with the cover necessary not to get slaughtered, and they even managed to get a few shots off in the process. Truly, though, it wasn't the Shocktrooper's blaster fire that was the main issue. The main issue was that the Remnant forces were advancing slowly but surely, and soon enough they would be at the first barricade. When that happened they would be able to overwhelm any of the Marines or Jesters caught on the barricade with sheer numbers.

Jegora knew that he had to pull the front line back, but he wanted to wait as along as possible. If the VE forces pulled back too early, they would waste perfectly good opportunities to thin the enemy ranks and would just provide cover for the enemy Shocktroopers earlier than necessary. After all, the barricades worked both ways, and they weren't picky about who hid behind them.

After a few more minutes though, Jegora couldn't wait any longer. Thrawn's forces were now only mere meters from the barricade, and they were getting more and more aggressive the closer and closer they got. He had no options left. Keying his throat mic, Jegora spoke over the channel that the Jesters and Marines had agreed to share.

"Everyone, back to the second arc. I repeat, pull back to the second barricade line."

With that he followed his own orders. Slinging his A280 over his shoulder, he pulled out his scatter pistol, using the smaller weapon to lay down a wider spread of fire. He was less accurate, but it was more effective at keeping the enemy troopers behind their shields. Once he was relatively certain (well, as certain as he could be) that he wasn't going to get shot, Jegora pushed away from his barricade and back pedaled as fast as he could to the second line of barricades. He wasn't alone. Every single Marine and Jester trooper that had been on the front lines with him followed suit.

Upon seeing the retreat the Shocktroopers surged forward, utilizing the barricades that the defending forces had just vacated. Jegora slid behind the second layer of barricades, and found himself next to two Marines in shiny white armor. Glancing around, he noted that most if not all of the Vast Empire soldiers had made the retreat successfully. He also located several of the Jesters, although they all looked the same in their shiny black Storm Commando armor.

Jegora switched channels on his comlink, then keyed his throat mic again. This time he spoke directly to Gio, who was the Jesters' resident combat engineer.

"Gio, do it. Do it now."

There was a muffled thump and a slight pause. "Right. Hold on a sec," Gio said, and Jegora gritted his teeth, waiting. Patience was all well and good, but the faster Gio acted the better off the Jesters and their Marine counterparts would be.

It turned out he needn't have worried. Gio acted out his part mere seconds later, blowing the charges the Vast Empire forces had used to boobytrap the barricade, and seconds after that the screams of wounded Shocktroopers began to echo throughout the hangar. At first Jegora hoped that the charges had taken out most of the enemy troopers, but it wasn't so. The shrapnel charges they had set (the Jesters' dare not use anything deadlier) injured or killed those standing right on top of them, but the Shocktrooper's heavy armor protected those on the peripheries of the blasts from anything beyond bruising. As the smoke cleared, Jegora could see that only one in five of the Shocktroopers had even been seriously wounded, and only a handful had been killed.

The odds were grim, but Jegora was confident. They had fought through the worse of the battle, and things couldn't really get worse. All the Jesters had to do was keeping fighting the way they had been, had to keep supporting their Marine allies, and Jegora was sure that they would be victorious.

Then he saw the enemy reinforcement pouring into the hangar. Just like that the enemy forces were doubled, and the Vast Empire soldiers were outnumbered three to one.

Mentally, Jegora slapped himself. Things couldn't get any worse, indeed.

A general alert was called over the Dominion's communication systems. Boarding craft had begun entering across the breadth of the hull. Such a tactic was expected but not so soon in the battle, leaving the Jesters and their marine counterparts with precious little time to devise a new strategy before they would be surrounded. If they broke away from the defense of the hanger, where it was clear the bulk of the attack had been designated, then anything they did after would simply delay the inevitable. But holding the line was just as futile. The 'Dominion' was lost.

An argument had broken out between the lieutenant in command of the marine contingent and the Jester's squad leader. Jegora's plan opted that they made an organized retreat to the bridge and from there ready for their last stand. The lieutenant's plan involved splitting the men up and securing key area's of the ship, delaying the capture of the Dominion for as long as possible whilst key members of the crew escaped. Such an argument was absurd not to mention inconvenient at such a crucial point in the defense, both plans had their merits but both ended in a similar fashion. The loss of the Dominion and their death.

The boarders had ceased their advance for the moment, they knew the score and if taking the Dominion meant waiting until their enemy had been encircled, then so be it. The fire fight had died down considerably as well, but both sides continued to trade shots. Jager, Mai, Kip and Reek along with a handful of marines made sure no ground was conceded. Abalar stayed back treating the wounded as best she could with what little supplies she had handy, though in most cases it was a simple painkiller or adrenaline stimulant to create a quick fix to any aliments. Jager couldn't help but smirk as he watched the private attempt to administer a stimulant to the squads resident Cathar, a low hiss and a broad swipe sending a clear enough message to the budding doctor.

It was in this light-hearted moment that a crackle rang out from the ships communications system, cutting short any further announcement's from the bridge.

"Men and Women of the Vast Empire" The voice announced in a stotic yet assertive fashion.

"Dammit, they've sliced into the comm-system's" Kip announced as the message continued,

"There is no reason to continue this pointless defense, lay down your arms and surrender. Your job is over, your leader's have been crushed and soon your planet will be conquered. Why bother throwing your life away to a lost cause. Surrender now and no harm will come to you."

Both Jegora and the lieutenant ceased their bickering, along with both the marine contingent and the other Jesters. It was clearly lies, surely they hadn't already lost the fight. There was no way of telling for sure though and regardless of whether or not any of those present believed the announcement it still cast splinters of doubt. The messages continued, each time it spoke of a losing fight and called for their immediate surrender, to which all they could do was sit quietly and pretend not to listen. Soon it began streaming through the squads private comm channel.

"Balls to this shit!" Jager spat in frustration as he tore the transmitter from his gear and crushed it under his heel, an act that several of the Jesters and their marine counterparts mimicked. "Attention pussies of Thrawn, why don't you shut your hole and come out from behind that cover. We surrender!" Jager cried as he loaded another box-mag into his tyrant. As expected he got no answer and the message of defeat continued to play.

Then just as suddenly as the message had begun, it ceased.

"Finally" Kip muttered aloud.

The ships comm-system crackled into life for the second time, but this time the message was a welcome change of pace.

"This is Captian Kara Elith of the Victory-class Star Destroyer Dominion with a message to both the crew of the vessel and its distinguished guests. This fight is far from over. All personnel still able to fight are to make their way towards the bridge or secure their current location and hold out. If they want this ship so badly, then we'll make sure they pay for every inch of it. Commodore Elith out."

Her message was defiant and pulled no punches, outright quashing all speculation as to where this fight was headed. For better or for worse they and the other five thousand or so crew of the destroyer were to race to the bridge and repel the boarders.

They would, as Elith had stated, make them pay for every inch.

The clatter of boots on the plasti-steel floor plating filled the corridors around what the crew referred to as 'Officer boulevard', though officially it was officer's living quarters. The captain's call to hold the line had reinvigorated the beleaguered crew of the dominion. Lieutenant Oralie had the grim task of organizing the defense of the deck after his commanding officer was killed by a ruptured power conduit in the mess hall. Never before had he seen so much death.

Out of the original, hundred strong contingent of marines and reassigned personal. Only fifty three remained. The boarders struck like a typhoon as they poured from their boarding craft but his men suppressed and annihilated them, one ship at a time.

With an unsteady hand, Oralie retrieved a cigarette from his stainless steel case. It had been a gift from his parents, given to him the day he graduated from the academy. The moment immortalized in a photo that was plastered inside the case. It had been the happiest day of his life and by the looks of the proud smiles on his parents face's, there's too. It was a stark reminder of what was at stake. The men and women under his command had undergone similar rituals at one point or another. Some gazed longing at photo's, mumbled personal letters  to themselves or, in some cases, embraced a fellow crew member. Oralie knew he should put a stop to such behavior but at a time like this there was no point. Only a cold hearted bastard would someone a last moment of happiness before death.

A rattled engineer lept over the hastily constructed barricade of tables, chairs and other assorted items of furniture. His overalls were stained with sweat and he'd clearly left his breath on another deck. After a moment of recuperation the man stood to attention and gave Oralie a salute,

"Sir, its not looking good"

The one statement that Oralie or any of those within earshot wanted to hear. Fearing a decline in the his mens already dismally low moral, Oralie ushered the man into a room and shut the door behind him.

"Hanger bays been lost, according to reports and they are boarding all over the ship." he stammered. Oralie cursed,

"Tell me something I don't know. Whats the situation like in the mess or the crew quarters? Are we holding them back?" The engineer took a deep breath before shaking his head. The mans eye's fixed on the floor plating in front of him.

"Which means they will be coming here next..." Oralie stated aloud, rubbing his temples. A part of him still wanted to believe that the marines assigned to the sections in front of his would turn things around, perhaps even start making ground back. But the more he tried to convince himself of such an outcome, the more ludicrous it seemed. Officer's boulevard was the last line before system control and the bridge, and they still needed more time to prepare for their defense.

Taking a moment to compose himself he cast one last thought to those who had perished and those who would if they failed here today, before stepping out into the corridor. The defense was centered around a large square in the center of the quarters, smaller corridors sprung off the left and right where the majority of the rooms were located with the senior officers occupying the corridor that connected them to system control. A tense silence fell over the heavily fortified square as Oralie appeared from one of the corridors. The gaze of every man and women under his command was affixed firmly on his once neat and kept uniform.

"I wont lie to you, the news is grim." he began, folding his arms behind his back. "The brave men and women in the forward sections have given their lives so that we may better prepare ourselves. They made sure that ever inch given was paid for with our enemies blood... but they have been overwhelmed." He paused for a brief moment, being the bearer of bad news was never a strong point for him. "Now it is our turn. I know many of you wonder why we haven't abandon the ship. I will tell you why. Because that's not what we do. When things get hard, we stand our ground... no matter the odds. I trust you all will remember this when the time comes." again he paused, making sure he made eye contact with as many of his men as possible. "Now, as the Captain said, Lets make them pay for every inch"

There where no cheers, no cause for celebration after what could best be described as a eulogy. The Lieutenants speech had speech had confirmed all their worst fears, many would fall if not all. There was no where to run or hide, no section of the ship was safe. So with that in mind the fifty three men, women and marines took up positions throughout the officers quarters and readied their weapons on the large bulk head doors at the opposite end of the corridor.

With a hiss a plasma torch fired up on the other side of the door, its flame melting through the several inch thick plating. Within a matter of minutes the torch had all but cut through the door, leaving defenders to watch on with baited breath.

Then they parted.

----

Twenty minutes.

For twenty minutes the defenders held their positions, focusing all their fire towards the door. For twenty minutes they held onto the hope that perhaps the enemies advance would be halted there. But they had underestimated the shock troopers tenacity and determination. During the opening salvo a third of the defenders were cut down, prompting the others to take better cover. As time pressed on more and more fell. Then by the sixteenth minute they had been widdled down to a third of their original strength. The remaining seventeen huddled behind the last line of barricades, determined to hold their position.

As the twenty minute mark was struck, the quarters went dark.

Oralie and his men had no flares, no torches. But still they fired towards the breached door. It was a young marine named Samson who was the first to cease fire, the sound of his lifeless body crumpling to the ground was sickeningly audible, even over the weapons fire. Next a trio of engineer's to his right fell silent. No weapons fire, nothing.

Panic had begun to set in amongst the remaining defenders. A pair of marines that had been adjacent to Oralie got to their feet and began to fall back towards the corridors that led to the system control center. They had managed to achieve a handful of paces before the lights flickered back to life, revealing the reason behind the unexplained deaths.

They wore jet black armor, trimmed with gold. Which was the only thing that distinguished them from a regular storm trooper. Oralie let fly a dozen shots towards the two that had managed to flank his position and halted the two marines beforehand. Both shots found their mark, much to his surprise.

The end was near. A half dozen men remained.

It was then that he saw it. Clad it what looked to be robes, it towered a foot above the regular troopers that scurried down the long corridor, yet whilst they stuck to the walls it didn't. Instead it proceeded to storm towards the final set of barricades as if it wasn't aware of the surrounding danger.

A marine, Patterson, rose from his position behind a collage of tables and a cabinet and rushed the beast. Like a fly, he was swatted down by the cloth-clad monster, its focus not shifting for a second. A feeling of dread took hold of Oralie. Patterson was a large man, much large then he, and this monster had bested him in a single blow.

It had gotten with a few meters of Oralie's position before he opened fire. The creature bucked and jerked as each bolt struck him, his robes fizzled and hissed as they were singed by each successful strike. At a half dozen paces, Oralie panicked.

His screams and wails echoed through the corridors of the ship was Thrawns beast eviscerated him.

-----

The Jester's made good time as they progressed through the ship. Resistance from the boarders was minimal, no doubt many had formed up and pressed on. Apart they were weak and easily bested, together they were a force to be reckoned with that swept through the ships halls like a plague that left no survivors in its wake.

It was as they reached the mess hall at the beginning of the crew quarters that a horrid wailing was broadcast across the squad channel. Jager was spared the brunt of it, having thrown his comm-link away in the hanger, but those who decided to keep theirs weren't so lucky.

"Groovy..." Jager muttered aloud, his weapon scanning the hall in front of them. The scream put them on edge, more so then what they where before.

"Who do you think that was, one of ours?" Ab queried, shuddering slightly.

"Doesn't matter. Probably another head game." Jegora reassured, "Luth, get us moving. Everyone check your corners. If they're gonna ambush us, it'll be around here"

A quick tap on the shoulder from the Jester trailing him sent Jager on his way. Ahead of them lay the mess hall, then the crew quarters. They were still a long way from the bridge, but better safe then sorry.

As the Jesters made their way through mutilated corpses, moving ever forward towards the systems control, Jegora began to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't anything particular, really, just a feeling, the sense that something was subtly but most definitely wrong. As the Jesters and their marine allies moved through the corridors of the Dominion], Jegora didn't voice his discontent, opting to keep his misgivings to himself. From the way his fellow troopers were acting, however, he didn't half to. Most of the soldiers in Jegora's party, whether they be marines or stormtroopers, were experienced enough that they had developed finely tuned instincts of their own. They could feel, just as Jegora could, that things weren't quite as they appeared.

Hoisting his rifle, Jegora double checked his power and tibanna gas levels. The gnawing in the pit of his stomach was only getting worse, and he wanted to make sure that he met whatever was out there with a fully loaded blaster.

The Vast Empire forces continued on their way towards system control. At every intersection Jegora expected an ambush. He was constantly wary, ever on edge, and his trigger finger was itchy. His instincts were telling him that something was out there, something that was definitely not friendly, but so far no such enemy had yet shown itself. Eventually Jegora and his squad mates arrived at a sealed blast door marked "System Control" in Galactic Basic, and still the party responsible for the carnage they had witnessed earlier had yet to be seen.

As the Jesters and the marines took up guard positions around the blast door, Jegora motioned to Kiption, directing him to work on getting the blast door open. The veteran slicer did just that, and wasted no time in examining the door's control panel.

After only a few seconds, Kiption grunted and said, "Interesting."

Jegora's patience was running thin. "What's interesting?" he demanded, not liking their exposed position. The sooner the Vast Empire troopers could get inside the system control room, the better.

"It's sealed. From the inside," Kiption answered.

Jegora blinked behind his helmet, that simple statement taking a few seconds to register with his fatigued mind. "From the inside? As in, there's someone in there?"

"There is, or at least there was. I dunno whether or not there's another exit," the slicer said. To that, Jegora had no response. He hadn't figured on finding any survivors.

Never one for subtlety, Jager took matters into his own hands. He approached the blast door, raised an armored fist, and banged on the door three times.

As Jager waited, the side of his helmet pressed up against the blast door, Jegora and the rest of the Vast Empire troopers were silent, waiting. After a long moment, Jegora had almost given up hope when the control panel next to the blast door erupted in noise, so suddenly and so loudly that ever single one of the Jesters and marines jumped reflexively. Jager, who was still pressed up against the blast door and was only centimeters away from the control panel, jumped so severely that he quite literally fell over.

Jegora couldn't help but grin behind his helmet at his assistant squad leader's antics. His attention, however, was soon captured by the voice issuing from the control panel.

"This is Marine Contingent 203, Bravo Platoon. Identify yourself."

Jager looked from Kiption to Jegora and back to Kiption. "Why didn't you tell me the control panel had communication capabilities?" he asked the slicer.

Kiption just shrugged. "Your way was more entertaining."

Jegora ignored the bantering, pushing his way forward towards the control panel. When he reached it he depressed the biggest button, hoping it was the right one, and spoke in the panel's general direction.

"This is Platoon Sergeant Jegora Fal, Jester Squad, Storm Platoon, Vast Empire Stormtrooper Corps. Open up, boys. We're friendlies."

Rows of identical, monolithic heat sink towers ran the length and breadth of the first floor dedicated to system control, all spread out from the center where a large central sink was positioned. Quarters were tight, the towers where wide enough for a person to hide behind and spaced evenly enough for a slim person to move in between them with ease. The only problem being that the Jester's and their marine entourage were anything but slim. But the lack of space wasn't their only concern.

Each tower, or group of towers, was allocated to a particular system of the ship. Some systems ran hotter then others. Which boiled down an alternation between a tower that was almost as cold as the below zero room temperature and a tower that was likely to burn the skin off ones hand if touched. The lighting was poor at best, whether on purpose or not none could really say, limiting the Jester's vision to a few feet in front of them. The towers were all adorned with a myriad of lights but all had a strip that ran along the middle which indicated temperature. Red for bad, green for good, as a sign on the wall adjacent to the door denoted.

"I don't like this" Jager announced in a hushed voice, "I don't like this at all..." There was simply nothing to like about it. Close quarter combat with a group of highly trained hostile forces accompanied by some sort of big, mean creature wasn't his idea of a good time.

"Like it or not, we've gotta clear it." Jegora rebutted before delegating assignments to his subordinates. For the most part he seemed focus and ready, but the scowl on his face showed he too wasn't looking forward to what lay head "Jager, take Ab and a few marines and clear the right. Mai, Gio. You're with me. Kip and the rest of you, hold the door." Everyone acknowledged the plan in one way or another before breaking apart and beginning their sweeps.

The room was vast. The first floor came in at just under five hundred meters, with the floors above becoming smaller again. Which was still five hundred meters a maze of possible ambush points or booby traps and the big and mean something that accompanied the boarders. From what he had seen thus far, Jager had a fairly rough idea of what it was or at least what I could be. The exotic blade marks, the shear in-human brutality of its attacks. Special forces move quickly and automatic weapons, they don't eviscerate their foes for no reason other then a display of ones might.

If memory served him right then he and a few of the others had faced off with the beasts kin before, none had tasted victory but a few came close. They shrugged off small caliber bullets and low-grade blaster weaponry, moved like a fierce wind and relayed heavily on its speed to close the gap, rendering firearms useless. The Jester's had only managed to best the ones prior through shear numbers and luck, both of which were now hampered by the tight confines of the maze of towers.

If such a beast was indeed stalking this maze then things were going to get ugly.

Jager stuck to the rear so he could maintain a good line of sight with those around him. The Tyrant's... Misty's large caliber munitions and rate of wire were more of a curse then a blessing in their new environment. At least where he was standing, so he traded with one of the three marines who he'd allocated to the front, drawing his revolver as the chain-guns replacement.

A hand signal began the sweep, each marine taking their time as they scanned the area around them and cleared in between the towers as well. The ground was a mess of power conduits and cables that crisscrossed between the towers. It was all too apparent that the engineers assigned to this section of the ship didn't have a firefight in mind when they designed it.

With each step the temperature seemed to drop another degree. He could feel his fingers almost freezing in place around the revolver grip. It was the kind of cold that seeped right down into the core of a person, radiating out to their extremities and causing their teeth to involuntarily chatter. the things I'd would do for a quick five minute smoke break...' he mused to himself, almost tripping on a coupling in the process before he snapped back into focus.

The marines in front kept their eye's peeled and their weapons at the ready, scanning their field of fire for any signs of movement. Jager felt confident with these men in front, regardless of what their past performance's had demonstrated. The same could not be said for the two marines assigned to cover his rear... because they had simply vanished.

Quickly he hissed at the marines to stop them in their tracks before signaling them to take a direction and cover it. To think that the two trailers had simply lagged behind was absurd, not unlikely, but none the less improbably. He had no way of contacting them, between the interference offered up by the towers and the fact that he had crushed his comm back in the hanger during a rousing transmission by the boarding forces concerning their imminent defeat, it would have been an exercise in futility. Backtracking too would have offered up more of the same. If they had missed the assailants in the initial sweep then chances where they would be missed on the second try. He had to press on. Sooner or later their assailants would strike again, he would just have to catch them then.

With two down the group altered their formation. A marine covered every direction, whilst Jager stood in the middle with Ab behind him making sure the marine facing away didn't stumble on anything. This, again, slowing their progress significantly. He pondered how Jegora was faring, the lack of weapons fire indicated good but at the same time also spoke of the worst. The stars help them if Jegora's team had gone down without firing a single shot...

Jager's team had just passed another tower when they struck again. The marine covering the left, Le-may,if Jager's memory served him correctly, simply vanished as they crossed the breadth of a tower. It took a moment for it to register as the action happened so quickly but by the time it clicked it was far too late.

The marine covering his front, the one with whom he had entrusted Misty, shouted something and let off a burst from the Tyrant. Rounds pinged and punctured a tower sending pillar of steam forth with a 'hiss' as it ruptured. Following the volley he pressed forwards, through the steam, the weapon still firing in a three shot pattern. The remaining two marines and Abalar closed ranks again and awaited another attack. The sharp, successive cracks from Misty were silenced abruptly. From across the maze he could hear a heavy exchange of blaster fire, Jeg had made contact as well. Confidence told him that Jegora was faring far better then he was... logic stated that it wasn't the case.

"Cme' on, ya' fucks" one of the marines blurted out at the darkness, his words echoing on the cold steel. The maze's reply was a blaster bolt, flung from behind a tower two rows back. The marine gave a gargle as he crumpled to the floor, his weapon chattering down beside him.

Jager continued the conversation with successive blasts from his revolver. The .50cal man stopper rounds splintered off the side of the monoliths frame, all failing to score a hit. Both Abalar and the remaining marine fired bursts at any sign of movement. Their desperation was palpable, their efforts appreciated but sadly all of it was in vein. Their assailants where innumerable, moving like deadly specters between the seven foot high headstones.

Ab was the next to take a hit. A bolt skimmed her shoulder, sending her to the ground with a muffled cry. Jager fired off his remaining before dragging the young private well behind one of the towers by the back of her collar. Now only a single marine and himself remained. His aggressors knew the odds as well and upped their assault.

At first he was hard to make out. A dark silhouette darting in between the towers, the indication lights giving a slight glare to the figures army as he passed them. Jager snarled dropped the empty casings from his weapon before hastily replacing as many as he could. The figures charge speed up, ceasing to seek shelter behind the towers as he entered the final few steps before finally he lunged.

The revolver kicked twice, both shots finding their target but failing to stop him in mid-air. With a crashing of armor the two connected and fell to the floor. The instigator of the charge very dead. The attack had taken the wind out of the Sergeant, momentarily pinning him to the floor whilst he grappled with the corpse. Another figure clad in dark armor loomed above him, shooting the panicked marine in the back before turning his weapon towards Jager.

A collection of shots caught the trooper in the chest. He, like his comrade, collapse to the floor.

"We're... even now" Private Stone puffed as she let her arm dropped limply to the ground beside her. She was wrong, after a save like that he at least owed the girl a drink.

With a heave he freed himself from under the body and helped the private up. Her wound was superficial at best, the armor taking the brunt of the bolt. Nothing a bacta patch and a week couldn't fix. He could still hear the the exchange between Jegora's group. Fal was a big boy, he could do without their support... at least that's what he hoped. There was still a climate to correct after all.

Unlike her superior, Abalar had kept her comm-link intact, and after several attempts managed to get a static-laden response from the squads slicer. It didn't take long for Kiption and his two marine escort to reach their position and press on towards the turbo lift at the opposite end of the room.

"So... Sergeant Fal?" Abalar queried as they stepped aboard the lift.

"He'll live." Jager replied stoically.

The second floor was considerably different from the first. Instead of the maze of heatsink towers that everyone was expecting, they found but one. The largest tower, located directly in the center of the first floor, extended up through to the second and possibly third. And apart from the odd clump of cable and occasional diagnostic terminal the second floor was barren. The third floor lay above on walkways suspended to the ceiling. The main access terminals scattered along it's railings, accessible by a flight of stairs that, like a vine, winded up the central heat sink tower. Without hesitation they advanced towards it.

The room was far better lit then the previous, a ring of lights illuminated the central tower and lined the walls and overhead walkways. But even with generous configuration their most dangerous foe still remained unseen until they were but a stones throw from the base of the stairs.

Five nine, steely blue skin, clad in robes with an exotically deadly looking sword in one hand. Big, blue and mean... They had just found Sigmunds beast.

"Oh dear.." Kip mumbled as he raised his weapon and braced for a charge from the creature, his marine escort and the recovering private doing the same. Jager smirked and took a step forward.

"My, my, my... aren't we a pretty lil' killing machine." he declared sarcastically. The Noghri's stance shifted subtly as he readied for any surprises the troopers had up their sleeve.

"Luth..." Kip hissed anxiously, confused by the Sergeants intentions. Jager subtly motioned for the others to roll with it, getting kip to that console was the primary objective. It was why they didn't go back for Jegora, it would be why they would let Jager attempt to handle the Noghri...

"I put to much stock in the abilities of the Nova." the creature retorted spitefully, pacing to match his opponents moves.

"Ohh, they were fine. We're just better." Jager shot back, throwing his hands out, punctuating the statement, "You know, if I beat you that'll make it a three... or was it four? I lost count" The Noghri grew silent, its pace ceased.

"Yeah, it was four. I got confused between the curb stomp, the knife to the skull, the revolver and the grenade." If there was one thing Jager did well above all else, it was lie. At most he was responsible for one Noghri, but even then it was still a team effort. The Noghri he faced now didn't know that. "You know, for unstoppable killing machines you guys seem to die alot..."

His opponent tensed, its fist clenched tightly around the hilt of its elaborate blade. By now Jager had walked a good dozen or so paces away from his squad mates, he just hoped they were bright enough to get a move on when the time was right, and that time was coming quite soon.

"You know, your skull would go great next to the other three on my mantel. Hell, I'll have the complete set in no time at this ra-"

A low, guttural howl signaled the beginning of the Noghri's attack. A low, mumbled curse signaled Jager's defense. A wave from Kip and his entourage as they bolted towards the stairs signaled that the plan was underway.

The artificial twitch fiber in his right hand allowed Jager the opportunity to draw his revolver and empty the six chambers towards the charging opponent. Only two of the hollow-point man stoppers connected with the beast, though whether or not they had any effect was a mystery. But for all advantage his augmented hand gave him in a fire fight, it did little to help him dodge the charge.

Winded, the sergeant slid along the floor before coming to a halt against a power conduit. The Noghri advanced, its blade twirling in its palm. A breath was all that separated his torso and the blade as he managed to roll to the side and dodge the downwards thrust. The creature growled in frustration and attempted the maneuver again and again. On the third attempt Jager drew his backup pistol, an M4 semiautomatic, and frantically emptied the magazine into the creatures chest, screaming obscenities as he did so. Its robes singed as it was bucked around by each successive hit. But after the clip was expended it still stood, its fury only now magnified tenfold by the futile attempt from its prey.

It was beginning to dawn on Jager that this was a really poorly thought out plan.

The exotic blade was held high above the creatures head, the killing blow was imminent. A ping emminated from the turbo lift across the room.

The roar of Misty filled the air. Round after merciless round flayed the Noghri's robes and passed through its mass as it howled and gargled, bucking and jolting backwards before it eventually collapsed to the floor.

A bloodied Jegora appeared overhead, a smoking Tyrant clenched in one arm. "Saved your ass..." he observed in a Stoic, nonsense tone, "found you're gun..." He added, dropping the weapon next to his subordinate.

"Thanks dad." Jager replied, thankful for the mans punctuality. Getting to his feet, he caught a glimpse of Mai and Gio over by the Noghri. The Cathar prying the blade from its grip and plunging it through the beasts almost liquefied chest.

"Done" Kip hollered from the overhead walkway.

"Good." Jeg responded, "On you're feet, we're going to the bridge."

OOC:

2601 words... dammit, Zerg post hooo!

After the consistent chaos since boarding the Dominion, the trip to the bridge was uneventful.  Jester and the remaining marines filtered through the battered doorway to the bridge with their rifles held at ready only to come face to face with crew members hurriedly retaking their places to assess the overall damage to the ship. Enemy bodies were strewn in a growing pile at one side of the room as uninjured technicians moved them away from the consoles. It seemed the mostly unseasoned bridge crew had put up one hell of a fight, holding off Thrawn’s forces until Jester and the others had effectively routed the assaulting group from the rear. Jegora waved Jester squad down and stood forward as a slim woman emerged from the bustling of bodies to address them. She was clad in an officer’s uniform, though her peak cap had been replaced with a bloodied bandage that covered the expanse of her forehead and right eye.

“Glad to see you got through.” Captain Kara Elith caught Jegora’s hand in a solid handshake, “It was looking pretty grim for a moment there.”

“How’s the ship?” Jegora tilted his head at the frenzied display at the Captain’s back, “Are you planning to rejoin the battle?”

“Of course,” Elith’s smile was predatory, “We’re not down and out just yet. The damage to the structure is relatively superficial, we should get her limping enough to catch up with the battle.”

“Got any medics up here?” Jager spoke up, “We ran into a marine regiment near the officer’s quarters and they’re pretty banged up.”

Elith’s smile vanished, “Perhaps one or two. They’ve got their hands full at the moment. Those...things... that came in with the troops took a heavy toll. I emptied an entire round into the chest of one of them and it still took my eye.”

“Noghri,” Jegora supplied, “They don’t go down easily.”

Elith grabbed at a passing Ensign, “Find Karnic. Tell them to leave whatever he’s doing and get over here,” She turned back to Jegora, “Don’t suppose you can hang around and escort the doc and his crew? I’m afraid we won’t be able to flush the remnants of the Thrawn filth free for a few hours.”

“We can help you there,” The marine Lieutenant interjected from where he had moved to the fore of the group. He offered Jegora a stiff salute, “Honor serving with you and yours. Best of luck.”

Jegora nodded as the Lieutenant and his remaining marines moved away to meet up with the medics, leaving only the members of Jester. He seemed to consider a moment before speaking again, “Any news from Tadath? Any orders?”

Elith frowned, “No. Our communications are still down. I’ve got my men on it but they’ll be another few minutes at least. Reports are sketchy but it seems as though the planetary shields are down. Visual scans confirm that Thrawns fleet have moved up to deploy ground forces.”

The entirety of Jester squad absorbed the horrifying news in silence. If the shields had come down it meant that their adopted homeworld was under attack. Everything was at risk. Not only the barracks and training grounds which were effectively home, but the hundreds of cities, their population and the friends and allies they had left planetside. Kiption was the first to clear his throat and speak,

“We need to go and help.”

“Agreed,” Mai growled, forsaking her resolve to stay quiet at the prospect of another battle, “They’ll be severely undermanned.”

“I understand that, but we can’t move without orders,” Jegora turned away from Elith to address his squad, many of whom were now shifting uneasily, “We hold until we get word.”

“Every second we hold people are dying,” Abalar said quietly, the softness of her words not quite disguising their intensity.

“I know that,” The first indication of Jegora’s frustration emerged as he balled his gloved hands into fists, “But Angel and the others know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t have been completely unprepared for this development. There will be objectives and targets set. Have faith enough in our comrades that they’ll do their job.”

“You’ll be back in the fight soon,” Elith had remained silent whilst Jester dealt with the news, but now interjected herself smoothly back into the conversation, “May I suggest you snatch some rest whilst I check on communications?” The Captain arched her uncovered eyebrow at Jegora before spinning on her heel and moving back into the throng of people scurrying about the bridge.

Jager pulled his helmet free, “Sounds like a damm good idea to me. Take a seat people.”

The members of Jester hesitated, torn between their desire to act and their duty to obey. Finally Mai huffed in obvious boredom before slinging her rifle over her back and stalking over to a nearby empty chair. Reek followed, before Kiption and Abalar relented and followed suit. Gio remained with the two squad leaders, his intense gaze focusing on Jegora as he made to follow the Captain,

“You need to rest Jeg. Let Elith handle things for a moment.”

Jegora paused, glancing briefly at Jager to see whether or not he would contradict the suggestion that he was fatigued. Jager remained stoically quiet, pulling a cigarette free and dangling it from his lower lip. Jegora frowned at his second in command before replying,

“I’m fine. But Gio, I need you to make sure we can scavenge enough supplies if we need to leave here in a hurry.”

Giovanni watched Jegora as he stormed away before flicking a questioning glance at Jager.

“He’s much better at giving orders than he is at receiving them,” Jager offered with a shrug. He took a long drag of his cigarette and then wandered casually over to the rest of Jester to leave Gio alone in the immense doorway.

Gio briefly considered going after Jegora before realizing that he no longer had any grounds to do so. He was a trooper, plain and simple. If Jeg wanted to keep on until his feet dropped out from under him there was nothing he could do or say to sway him. Biting back an exasperated sigh, Gio pried his grip from the trigger of his rifle for the first time in what seemed like aeons. He then ducked his head and set out resolutely to find some sort of Navy quartermaster.

"You got a smoke?"

"Uhh, excuse m-"

"Cigarette," The Sergeant reiterated, miming the action "Do you have one?"

"No, no sorry. I don't smoke." The private replied coyly as she gave a look to her gear. He knew she wasn't one to enjoy the habit, but what harm was there in asking. Smoking was apart of his pre, during and post battle ritual. Many ask why he does it, citing that they would kill him eventually, but he'd always wave them off and enjoy the soothing flavor, making sure to revel in the noxious fumes that filled his lungs and escaped through his nostrils. No matter how much planning went into a fight, no matter how careful or well prepared a person was, all it took was a lucky shot or some bad timing and they would be going home in a plastic bag, so what point was there in denying himself such a luxury when the reaper was always within arms length?

The weapons facility was fairly stock-standard. Two perimeter fences. one chain link, the other considerably higher and constructed of dura-crete. By the looks of things the bulk of the facility was underground. The surface layout resembled something of an airfield, a few large storage hangers, a half dozen landing pads and designated zones, some concrete here and there leading between some rather bland looking buildings and a large concrete bunker that housed the main entrance to the area's below.

Their advance towards the facility had so far been uneventful, though that was subject to change without warning. No sense in leaving ones home ground to face an attacker.

"Sergeant" his counterpart, Private Fyre Stone or 'Abalar' as she was more commonly refered to, chimed in. He'd never got the whole 'Abalar' thing, he also never fully understood why everyone simple accepted it. So, being the trend bucking renegade that he liked other's to think he was, he simply called her 'Private' or much to her frustration 'Stone' or for a bit of a laugh 'Banshee'.

"Stone," He replied back over the helmet Comm.

"What are we doing here again? I don't see how this has anything to do with... well anything."

"Come on" he shot back, "Can't ya' see? It's got everything to do with everything." There was no need to mess with her, but he did it anyway, "Besides, its not your place to question. It's merely to follow  the orders of an overly sadistic, girly-man"

"Angel?" She queried, reminding him that she hadn't yet witnessed the true depths of the mans sadistic tendencies. Though her glimpse aboard the Astarte should have been enough.

"I call him Uncle Jikk, but yeah, Angel works too."

"But surely he of all people knows we could be put to use on Tadath. I mean, what happens if they are all wiped out?" she asked, though he couldn't tell if it was rhetorical or not.

"Then we become the last of the vast empire." he retorted in a deadpan. A statement that was merely a coin toss away from being a fact. After all, if they succeeded here and returned to Tadath only to find that Thrawn had turned the entire planet into glass, then all of this would have been in vain. "You'd do best not to think about it..." he added, "Focus on the now, you'd be surprised how easy things are when you do."

With that the channel fell silent as they continued to watch their area whilst the others prepared to breach the perimeter. She was a nice kid, she knew her job and didn't complain much, which were all fine traits for a trooper to have. Sometimes he wondered if he was too hard on her, it wasn't like she deserved the nickname or him trying to get a rise out of her. But he was never one to doubt his methods and motives, if a part of him said 'do it' then who was he to second guess.

"So you're saying you've never planned for the future?" she questioned, her voice given an unwieldy metallic tone courtesy of the comm-system.

"Hey, the bigger the plan the more things that could and probably will go wrong. So if you don't have a plan then what could possibly happen?" he replied brazenly.

"But that would mean you went and fought that Noghri on a whim, right? And from what I saw if Jegora hadn't arrived it would have killed you."

"Yeah... didn't quite work out the way I wanted it to. Though, I gotta admit, Jegora has a knack for doing shit like that." he answered with a short snicker as he reminisced about the event.

"I honestly didn't think you where that stupid, or are you just suicidal?... no offense intended, Sergeant." The girls response shocked him slightly. Not because of what she had said, it was because after all this time she had held him in a higher regard then what he'd originally thought. In truth, he never really planned for anything. Planning meant having time to second guess himself, whereas if he made things up on the fly then coping with them after the fact was alot easier.

"Well, guess you learn a little everyday." he smirked, wishing he'd not smoked his last remaining cigarettes on the flight over.

"Breaching the wall on three" a voice whispered over the global-comm channel. Both Jager and Abalar braced themselves for the detonation, along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Go!"

Where there once was a wall, now there was not. The explosion sent chunks of dura-crete flying into the compound and produced a thick cloud of dust that drifted across the facility on a south-westerly breeze. The stormtrooper squads where the first through the breech, a mighty call of 'Forward!' ringing through everyone's helmets as the regulars entered the wall of dust and debris.

Bolts whizzed by, chipping the wall or going wide of their intended targets at first. The cloud acting as a rudimentary form of cover for those who entered first, but once clear the stray shots became less frequent. Their objective was vague, bordering between 'decommission' and 'vaporize' and judging by 'Two-Fist's' brief briefing, he wasn't quite sure how anything was going to come about.

But that was the beauty of not having a set plan. Short of them dying, there wasn't much that could go wrong.

The attack on the bioweapons facility went smoothly for the space of a few seconds before the defenders of the facility seemed to master their initial shock at the severity of the assault and begin their defense in earnest. The heavy weapons squad that had managed to so effectively breach the perimeter walls now found themselves without a degree of cover in the killing zone between the fence and the first of the secure buildings making up the compound. The supporting regulars from the other stormtrooper squad were wedged in behind them, unable to offer any substantial aid to their comrades without risking shooting allies in the back of the head. The general VE comm. channel was alright with incessant chatter; screams of warning and confused queries as the heavy weapons squad began to take heavy losses. It wasn’t until Krill, the veteran Captain in charge of the assault screamed for silence that his orders could be interpreted. He quickly sent both squads forward, risking further deaths as trade for ground covered on their target. A quick query revealed that the supporting special forces squad were engaged in a firefight of their own a few clicks back having encountered local defense forces reacting to the atmosphere breach of the VE shuttle. Finally, he turned to his only other option, Jester Squad.

“Jester we're pinned.” Krill sounded as though he was talking through gritted teeth, a likely occurrence given his current position behind a battered hovercar situated in the visitor's carpark, “They've got men on the roof. If we push forward again we'll be easy targets.”

Mai recognized that the Captain was leaving a lot unsaid. It was very likely that the defenders of the facility had already mobilized spare defensive forces and were currently sending them about to intercept the occupied VE group from behind. Such a maneuver would be a death blow to the VE forces and effectively end the assault almost as soon as it had begun. Jegora was quick to answer,

“On it. Hold your ground.”

There was a notable change in the pitch of frequency in Mai's ear as Jegora flicked over to the squad channel, “Split up. Get access to the roof and take down those snipers. Keep to your quadrants and we should ensure that we take out most of them. Move it people, every second you waste another one of ours dies.”

Mai needed little encouragement. She flicked a sidelong glance at Kiption only to see that the Sergeant had already come to his feet and was sprinting towards the nearest double story building. She grinned beneath her helmet in feral anticipation and bounded after him, ignoring the blaster bolts which pinged about her position as a few of Thrawn's men drew their attention away from the main fight to focus on the newest threat to their resistance. She made it to the relative cover at the side of the building just as Kiption set to work on the door lock, pulling out a portable device that he hooked onto the console and began madly typing into. Mai ignored him, completely uninterested in the inner workings of confusing electronic devices. A rudimentary knowledge had served her well thus far in her life and she wasn't particularly keen to study circuit boards in order to gain mastery. Instead she chose to step slightly away from the wall in order to give herself a clear view to the edge of the roof. Raising her rifle she looked down the sights just as a helmeted head popped over the edge to track her process. Mai's shot took the trooper squarely in the faceplate of his helmet, burning a hole through the armor and sending the enemy soldier plummeting to the ground in a heap a few meters away from her position.

“Mai!” Kiption gestured at her just as the door emitted a gentle beep, sliding back to allow access to the interior of the building.

“Lead the way,” She growled, striding up the steps until she was directly on Kiption's heels. The Sergeant moved fluidly through the doorway and into a long steel gray hallway. Both Jester members kept their rifles at ready as they moved past several doorways towards a staircase at the far end of the corridor.

“Trooper quarters,” Kiption murmured as they passed the last door before the stairs. The entrance was slightly ajar to reveal a standard double cot, refresher and small armory cabinet, the typical decor of a soldiers room throughout the universe. Mai grimaced as she realized the implications of the discovery,

“This most likely means that a large majority of soldiers will be on this particular roof, doesn't it?”

“Chances are high,” Kiption didn't miss a beat as he moved up the first flight of steps onto the next, “Never really did master the whole luck thing.”

“Neither,” Mai responded, picking up on the first distant rumblings of booted feet above them, “Sounds as though they know we're here.”

Kiption didn't reply, but then again, he didn't need too. Things were about to get ugly and there was nothing else to say. Mai clenched her fists tighter about the grip of her rifle and kept in step with Kip as the two emerged onto the second level and started down a corridor identical to the one they had just left. The door at the far end of this hallway was smaller than the entryway with a yellow sign attached to its face signifying an emergency entryway to the roof. They were only a few meters away from the door when it abruptly burst open to reveal a group of stormtroopers coming down to meet them.

Mai and Kiption opened fire at exactly the same time, drilling into the first two enemy soldiers in sight. The troopers buckled back in their death throes, landing into the path of their comrades as they sought to get out of the confined space of the stairway. Mai took full advantage of their predicament, loosening a grenade from her belt and casting the metallic device neatly into the heaving pile of dead and alive bodies. She moved back behind a nearby bulkhead, Kiption squeezing in next to her as the grenade exploded with a decisive 'whump,' littering the stairwell with body parts and a fine film of blood as the group disappeared completely.

“Ladies first?” Kiption moved out from the bulkhead and looked pointedly at the stairwell.

Mai pulled another grenade free and charged up the stairs towards the roof without a moment's hesitation, Kip a mere half-step behind her. They emerged onto a wide rooftop perfect in terms of defense, complete with ridged sides to provide cover for the stormtroopers firing down into the yard. Mai's brain recoiled at the sight of the dozen or so troopers which spun around to greet them, but years of training ensured that she didn't freeze up despite the poor odds. Her hand came up on its own accord to release her second grenade. Kiption cast one of his own at her side before the two Jester members cast themselves sidewards and away from the storm of enemy blaster fire which honed in on the patch of ground they had recently occupied. Mai landed heavily behind  a raised air vent, pulling her legs and arms in to provide the smallest target possible. Both grenades went off without a hitch, the two explosions muffled by the roar of the battle beneath them.

Mai risked a look about the vent and almost got her head blown off. Five soldiers were still standing despite their destructive entrance, two of them seemingly focused on killing her in particular. She allowed her body to slam down on the concrete floor to prevent herself from being decapitated, letting off a single shot which caught one of the offending soldiers in the leg. The enemy trooper howled in pain, doubling over and coming precariously close to the edge of the roof as he did so. He pinwheeled his arms as he realized his danger, trying desperately to regain his balance and his footing. Mai rolled back behind the protective cover of the vent and popped out the other side to fire again and catch the falling trooper with another well timed shot, this one to his stomach. The soldier catapulted backwards and out of sight with a gurgled scream. The remaining soldier fired wildly at her, his shots coming dangerously close to hitting home. Mai resisted the urge to panic and respond in a similar fashion, instead allowing herself a few seconds in which to aim and cut down Thrawn's lackey in a hail of blaster bolts.

On the other side of the roof Kiption had disposed of two of the soldiers by blaster fire and had charged the remaining trooper. Both men had lost their rifles in the contest and were grappling with their hands, each seeking to gain an advantage on the other. Mai rolled to her feet and ran forwards, driving her booted foot up neatly between the enemy soldiers legs and directly into his groin. Despite the protective armor encasing the sensitive area, Kiption's opponent cried out in obvious pain and lowered his guard enough for Kip to slide his combat dagger home beneath his helmet. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his hands clasped over his throat in a futile attempt to stop the blood flowing free of his throat.

Mai regarded the dying stormtrooper with mild interest before keying her throat mic, “Jeg, it's Mai. Our quadrant is clear.”

There was a moment's silence before Jegora answered, “Good, Jager and Alabar just checked in and they were the last.” There was a brief pop of static as Jegora hailed Krill, “All clear Captain.”

“Much appreciated Jester.” Krill answered, “We'll storm the armory and flush out the rest of the barracks if you want to go ahead and find some answers.”

“Rendezvous at my position Jester,” Jegora addressed his squad again, “Let's hunt down some scientists and find out exactly what it is that they do here.”

Clearing a building was an art form and no matter how many a trooper cleared during his career, each one was faced with a renewed sense of dread. What it boiled down to was math. A standard five by five room had any number of angles that an attacker could strike from. Add to that the presence of furniture, general room construction and other countless obstacles and what it gave you was one of the fastest ways to be sent home in a plastic bag. Legions of individuals and organisations through history had spent untold amounts of time and resources in devising the best and safest way to go about clearing and securing a hostile ridden structure.

Flash grenades where a prime example of such innovation. A grenade, similar to a standard fragmentation variant, would be thrown into a room before hand, delivering a blinding flash and a piercing screech that would both temporarily deafen and blind the rooms occupants. Thus allowing the breachers a safer method of entry. Of course there were still of circumstances left unaccounted for. A flash grenade more often then not sent its victims into a panic, causing them to blindly fire their weapons around the room in the hope that it would save them. These weapons would often be trained towards the door and other possible entry points, thus nullifying any advantage the device gave to those entering.


Throughout his time Jager had heard many methods and strategies for dealing with such a problem. Some where elaborate, others were more trouble then they where worth. The best one though was told to him by a semi-intoxicated, self-proclaimed urban warfare specialist in a bar back on Tadath.

"Question you gotta' ask yourself is, how badly do you want this building... If the answer is 'I could do without it' then find the biggest, deadliest piece of over-priced military hardware in your vicinity, point it towards the troublesome dwelling and Hey-presto. Jobs done." A plan with the least number of variables would always succeed over its more complex counterparts.

They had no real time to mess around with clearing each room by hand. Sooner or later the combat engineers would breech the bunker door making clearing the houses little more then a distraction for the specialist teams.

"Alright boys and girls" Jager announced in an overly jovial manner to the small cohort of Jester's and rank and file whom Jegora had commandeered from their over watch duty at the bunker door, "Empire wants us to do a little spring cleaning, primarily on the abodes that line the eastern wall. Cheap and nasty is the name of the game, as I can't imagine the higher ups claiming this place for a holiday home"

His squad leader, Jegora, stood a dozen or so paces to his eight o'clock, discussing with both Kip and Gio about the probably use and layout of each of the targeted structures. There was little to no indication as to whether any of the builds in fact housed hostile elements, which didn't mean that they didn't either. It was just a matter of finding the ones that did. After several minutes of discussion between the three, Jager's briefing drew to a close making way for Jegora to allocate the first strike.

A two story, pre-fabricated building was first in line for securing. A few darkly tinted windows lined the outside but apart from that it was an overbearingly bland structure. Already the element of surprise was lost, unless the buildings occupants were both deaf and blind to the chaos that had earlier ensued the outside. With that element gone casualties were inevitable. In total they numbered ten. There where the Jester's, the usual collection of violent psychopaths, alcoholic's, five foot tall felines and the handful of 'normal' troopers that dotted their ranks. Plus three regulars that originated from one of the rank and file squads that had been assigned to the assault, the other being assigned to babysit the engineer's whilst they did their job.

Weapons fire cracked across the compound, the other special forces team clearing hadn't wasted a moment in getting underway.

Their plan was simple, one team would set up around the front door whilst another team would enter from the rear, flush out any resistance who would then be slaughtered horribly by the first team. Jager led the second team on the rear door, along with Gio and what appeared to be some sort of lizard man. Though Jager played him off as an illusion of some sort, brought on mostly by extreme fatigue and the gradual lose of his sanity. That and after coming to turns with a giant cat, anything else was greeted with a beleaguered 'and?' response.

Without a word they stacked up, two aside. The element of surprise had been lost but that didn't mean the enemy knew exactly where they where... they just knew they were coming. Gio was a veteran, or at least that was what Jegora claimed, and knew the score. With the tip of his knife he lifted the faceplate off of the doors access panel and readied to open on a three count. Jager rolled his neck and took a firmer grip on the handle of the semi-automatic shotgun he had liberated off a corpse. Misty, his faithful tryant, was too much gun for such an action. Gio gave one last nod to Jager and his rank and file trailer before the silent countdown began,

On three the door gave a 'hiss' and shifted aside, the timer on Gio's grenade gave an affirming 'beep' as it clanked onto the plasti-steel flooring of the prefab building. Barely coherent cries of 'take cover' and 'grenade' permeated the rooms as its occupants scuttled. With a concussive 'bang' the grenade detonated, the shock wave shaking the structure's foundation, shattering windows and igniting anything inflammable in its immediate radius. The first team let off a barrage of fire on a pair of troopers who decided to make a run for it. Jager gave a heavy nod and entered first, his shotgun raised.

The blast had burnt out the lighting. With a flicker the rail-mounted tactile light flickered to life, cutting a solid beam through the dust and debris stirred up in the explosion. In total the blast had killed four people. Two troopers and, judging by their clothing, two clerical staff. It had also wounded a half dozen more, mostly clerical staff with the exception of a lucky trooper who's attempts at retrieving an irreparably damaged side arm where short lived as Jager deaded him with a blast from his shotgun.

The two teams threw any of the survivors outside to be processed before readying for the secondary phase of the plan.

Second floors were considerably more difficult. There were less entry points, the layout was often less opened plan then their first floor counterparts and the dull thud of footsteps on plasti-steel gave anyone waiting in ambush the edge.

Luckily the Jester's plan didn't involve them climbing to the second floor. Instead opting for something far easier.

The VC-1 flamethrower was designed almost perfectly for their situation. What it lacked in user-friendlyness it more then made up for in its contents. Contents that would stick and burn on any surface for a varying period of time, producing thick, noxious fumes in the process. Jager had the hindsight of requisitioning one from the heavy weapons team before hand, leaving it in the hands of the first team whilst he cleared the ground floor. Now with any threat from the ground floor eliminated, all the Jester's had to do was start a fire and wait for the Thrawn-ists to either die or flee from the encroaching inferno.

Like a dragon, the VC-1 sent forth a stream of fiery propellant through a small window atop the second floor. Within seconds a fire had broken out marked by a thick cloud of noxious, black smoke that bellowed from it.

They always had an interesting smell to them, flamethrowers, a smell that burnt the nostrils and watered eyes but yet was oddly rewarding in a strange way, feeding into the inner pyromaniac inside everyone.

This act was repeated on as many windows as he could find and within a few short minutes, cough and cries could be heard as the second floor occupants attempted to escape the blaze. Today they were taking prisoners. There was no telling what knowledge anyone at this facility had and whether it was of use to the empire or not wasn't for them to decide. In saying, they weren't there to secure prisoners, only to seize on the opportunity if it arouse. There was a war on. These men were under the command of the same force that was attacking Tadath, homeworld to many of the rank and file as well as the specialist squads. And if a member of one of these units happened to kill an unarmed member of the facilities staff or vent their anger on such an individual, there was little chance of it tarnishing that troopers file.

Corporal Hendly, one of the rank and file attached to the Jester's team, was one such trooper who opted to vent his frustration. The first of the second floors occupants burst out of the door, spluttering and watery eyed as he doused at imaginary flames on his person. The Corporal floored the man kicked that landed in the dead center of his chest before placing a shot into his temple without batting an eyelid. His fellow troopers cringed or looked away, but said nothing.

In any other instance he might have been reprimanded, perhaps even relieved of his duties. Not today... today was about revenge, a counter attack against an aggressor. No one was pulling any punches, no ground was going to be given, there would be no mercy. Jager had never experienced a war-time environment, or at least one of this caliber. They had usually been the aggressor, their victims rebel fighters or resistance factions. Now they were up against a well trained, well armed military force. One akin to their own. They wore the same armor, used the same weapons, who knows... perhaps in a different time they might have fought side by side.

But that wasn't the case today.

"Buildings clear" Gio announced over the squad-link as the blaze on the second floor took a deeper hold, slowly turning the building into a slag covered funeral pyre.

"Good." Jegora replied, "Three more to go"

Three more to go. Every building clearance was unique. This one had been a push-over... something told him that they wouldn't be so lucky next time around.