Rescue at Coruscant III: Flight of the Heroes

[Sanis Prent]

RESCUE AT CORUSCANT


PART III
FLIGHT OF THE HEROES

It is a dark time the REBEL ALLIANCE and the JEDI ORDER.
Having fled from Cloud City and the might of the GALACTIC EMPIRE,
a Jedi Master named SERENA LARAN, crucial to the survival of galactic freedom,
has been taken prisoner by sinister dark agents known as the INQUISITORIUS.
Without Serena's leadership, hope may soon fade for victory.

Plotting a desperate mission to CORUSCANT, capital of the Empire,
a band of Jedi and Rebels, guided by the maverick Captain,
SANIS PRENT, prepare to take the fight to the Empire where they least expect it.

Facing odds stacked greatly against them,
the passengers of the freighter LAYLA prepare to descend to the city planet
in a gambit to restore hope to a galaxy without it.




I had a restless leg, and a bad case of cottonmouth. A shot of whiskey from my hip flask took care of the latter, but my knee kept bobbing along as the maelstrom of hyperspace continued to snake around us. A proximity alert beeped, and I flicked it off, reaching for the voxcomm control.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We're about a parsec out from Imperial sector. Weather on Imperial Center shows partly violent with a chance of Star Destroyers. If you haven't hit the refresher, you might want to do so now. Keep your lightsabers in the off position until the ship comes to a stop.

Once again, thank you for flying on Layla Express."

Cracking wise helped to keep my mood light. In reality, I was scared as hell. Maybe this whole stint in the Alliance was bad for my mental health. I was losing all sense of survival skills, and willingly about to dunk my ass into a scalding cauldron full of angry blasters, and worst of all, I wasn't even getting paid for it.

"Cirr, how's our decoy?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Finishing a bit of slapdash soldering with MARCUS's guidance, Cirr ducked out from under the console, snapping his utility goggles up to his forehead. His ears already told the story, perked and bobbing high.

"All done. We'rre now the Dug's Ugly Sisterr."

He made a face at it.

"That name sucks, Sanjis."

[Sanis Prent]

I gave a shrug at that. Cirr was right. Then again...

"I don't make the rules on stolen transponders, I just use 'em. That one sucks because I've already used the cooler-sounding ship names. You know, it's not cheap buying stolen ship ID's that convincing with a clean chit. If the name happens to be shit, that's the luck of the draw."

I gave a half laugh at the little bits of quasi-legal help I was bringing to the game.

"Some day, I hope our plucky do-gooder buddies thank a proper con like me. You know, with some good retirement bennies on Ryloth with an open bar tab set for life. Maybe they'll make me a Senator or something."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Upper Cargo Bay

"I'm sure it's a great ship, but I've seen cleaner Jawa trawlers in my brief Recon tours."

Anbira ran a finger across the bulkhead in the upper cargo deck. Eschewing the crowd above, he sat on a tied-down crate with a few of the other passengers.

The strike into the Imperial center was a three pronged movement. A diversion in an Imperial shuttlecraft took an alternate route in. The Layla led both the rescue party and a few operatives to ensure a clean getaway, so the passenger list was extensive and diverse. On a ship designed for a third of the passengers it now had, it was something of a bustle on the cramped freighter.

"I'd almost like our chances on this rust bucket, truth be told. Corellian freighters are a credit a barrel. Unless we do something stupid on the way in, we should be smooth sailing."

He winced.

"Getting out should be a bit more interesting."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon sat beside the Felucian hermit with his elbows on his knees, trying not to take up too much space in the close quarters of the Layla. He'd said little during the journey, choosing to quietly prepare himself for the challenge ahead. It seemed like a lifetime since he'd last undertook such a mission, and it had been with much less noble purposes at heart. But here he was with his brothers and sisters in the Force, about to rescue one of their own from the den of lions.

"I was preaching on Coruscant not too long ago," he said. "Getting in has never been the problem. Aside from Imperial Center, it's actually the least guarded planet per capita in the Core. You can't control a population that big with an army. Instead, the city becomes its own kind of prison."

Layla skipped a little on a knot of hyperspace turbulence, making Solomon reach for a support strut to keep from toppling into a neighbor. "Good news is, at the depth we're going, this hunk of junk will just blend in with the rest of the debris."

[Mara Tallen]

Upper Cargo Bay


"You should try a hired transport on Nar Shaddaa in a feline form sometime. That, honey, is dirty. It took hours to wash the stench out of my fur." Mara grinned at him over her shoulder, even as her fingers carefully wound some very colorful wire into a compact bundle. It took its place nestled beside the others in her sleek pack, tucked in amidst blocks of explosives without labels. No labels because she'd made most of them herself, and those she hadn't, she was testing for some of the scientists of the Alliance.

With the explosives and assorted blasting caps and wires and such packed neatly away, Mara turned to the only one of her silver cases she'd brought along. She opened the large case and absently tugged on her black bodysuit as she perused the weapons she'd brought.

"Getting out should be a bit more interesting."

At that she nodded - getting out, if they succeeded, would be the hairiest part of the mission.

[Corell Capstan]

Upper Cargo Bay

Correll caught a glimpse of the tangle of wires in Mara Tallen's luggage and sat further forward, trying to get a discreet look at what else was in that bag of tricks. With each shudder of hyperspace turbulence, the tightly-packed passengers of the Layla jostled one another. Though there were few places Capstan was more at home than on a Corellian freighter, the smirk that seemed to be permanently etched onto her lips had gone, replaced by a hard line whilst her hazel eyes flicked from face to face. Her elbows were propped against her knees, with the endless twitching of her feet the only outward sign of the anxious energy that was bouncing around inside of her.

[Jason Na'moda]

Upper Cargo Hold

Jason was sat on the floor opposite Mara, wearing the Mandalorian styled armour he'd scavenged from the corpse of a freelancer who had tried to kill him. The helmet that would conceal him from prying eyes and protect him was between his legs while he sorted out a slight wiring problem in the wrist mounted dart launchers. He'd done this sort of thing before, though admittedly it had been a lot less precipitous. This was the Imperial Capital. Death would surround them on all sides.
Jason had preferred to listen through the journey, since he didn't know the others all that well, although the odd smirk at a joke or a snippet of banter would cross his face here and there. He nodded to Soloman's words though. "Lets focus on one step at a time though. No need to freak out just yet." He checked the straps on his two sabers. He had supposed that it was worth bringing Ka's old one along either way since there was always the possibility that he'd lose his. He had his blaster pistols and had borrowed a E11 Blaster Rifle to start with. The other Jedi were perfectly competant with close combat scenarios, but this way he could make sure they could return fire.
"But yeah, lets hope that Sanis is as good as he's supposed to be." He'd already seen the guy fly and knew he was good, he just hoped he was good enough, and saying that - Jason knew that he himself couldn't do it. With a snubfighter maybe, but not a freighter, he wasn't that good a pilot with one just yet.

[Daria Nytherciria]

Upper Cargo Bay

The figure in black stood apart from the group, alone. Her tattered gray traveling cloak was left behind on the Whaladon, traded in for a close-fitting bodysuit and a hooded cowl, that was drawn down and gathered beneath the waves of red hair falling over her shoulders. She wore her lightsaber on her belt and a pensive expression on her face. Though was no fan of space-flight, it was the Force itself that held all of Daria Nytherciria's concentration and occupied her thoughts as she quested out with her senses, trying to peer with sightless eyes through the misty veil that clouded the future.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan didn't have a saber, much less know how to wield one effectively. He did have a DH-17 and a 434 "DeathHammer" heavy blaster pistol. Each rested in belt holsters. He sat beside Corell and across from Anbira and Solomon. He hadn't gone much further than introductions with anyone besides Daria.

"There's tougher flying in parts of Nar Shadda. Sanis will do fine." Morgan said. He has to. Morgan added as a thought.

He got up to check his handiwork, unfortunate name aside. Modding a transponder had been a welcome distraction from the rest of the mission preparation. He weaved his way from the cargo hold through the mess to the cockpit.

"Did the transponder stick?" He asked Sanis and his felliniod engineer. If it didn't, this would be a short trip.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Back in the Cockpit

Cirr's cheshire-like grin was tinted green with monitor glow as he tapped the screen for emphasis.

"All unjiverrsal trransponderr bands arre set. jIt'll take a shjip full of parranojid sljicerrs wjith a lot of frree tjime to crrack that one."

He tossed a bit of that good feeling back over his shoulder as Morgan peeked in for a look.

A beacon midway between Cirr's station and Sanis's pinged up. Everybody on deck knew what that one meant.

They'd arrived.

"Alrrjight, rrealspace jin thrree, two, one, contact."

The maelstrom quieted into starstreaks, rapidly shrinking to individual points of starlight as Layla decelerated into realspace in a flash, looping about to enter one of the dozens of main planetary entry lanes for Imperial Center. Ahead, Coruscant reflected back sun off of its unnatural surface. Between Layla and the planet lay a corona of capital ships, transports, freighters, stations, tankers, skyhooks, and just about any manner of space-capable ship possible. It was the busiest point in the galaxy.

"Well, we'rre herre!"

Why was he so giddy? Wasn't he supposed to be the pessimist here? There had to be something to be said on travelling in a ship full of Jedi Knights. Shouldn't that by some cosmic law make your ship the safest in the galaxy?

He hoped so.

[Lowrook]

Lowrook was in the back of the cargo hold, feeling like he was packed in like blasters in a crate. He was lucky that he was bigger than everyone else and could stretch out his arms to steady himself against the bulkheads. It also meant that others were constantly bumping into him. He thought about using the Force to steady the group, but knew that it was a bad idea. He needed his connection to the Force to be strong when the time came to battle.

Lowrook had changed his appearance, like several of the jedi. Instead of his Jedi Robes, he wore the guise of a bounty hunter. Bandoliers hung around Lowrook’s body and the parts of his body that were covered, were covered by Krayt Dragon Scales. His lightsaber, which the handle was a Rancor Tooth hung around his bandolier along with two more rancor’s teeth. His shaggy main was pulled back into a pony tail and a streak of silver ran from the edges of his mouth down his neck and onto his chest. He hefted an underslung rotary repeating blaster onto his arm and connected to the power pack that he wore on his back. While not the weapon of the Jedi, he could aim and fire it like most humans could fire a blaster.

Word came back that they were dropping out of hyperspace at Coruscant. If the falsified transponder code didn’t work, the Imperials would be rid of a vast majority of the Jedi left in the galaxy. If they were to perish now, the Jedi Order might never rise again. That thought renewed the determination in Lowrook that this mission had to be successful.

Even though Lowrook was a Master, he was still trying to find his way in this new galaxy where the order of everything was turned on its head.

He realized belatedly that they hadn’t been shot down yet.

[Navaria Tarkin]

Upper Cargo Bay

It was not the homecoming she had wished for. When Navaria, Lianna, was here last, a bittersweet reunion had occurred with mother and daughter. The memory was special and untainted, but such fondness had no place in the here and now. The status of her blood family always in a state of constant discord.

Her eyes drifted across the cargo bay to the woman standing alone, features currently veiled by the hood pulled on top of her head. The Jedi were her family. Her heart belong to the Force, to them, to her long last father, and to Daria.

She looked away and closed her eyes, head resting against a container as all thought left her mind in preparation. Dressed similar in a body suit, Navaria opted to not cover her features. The sheer surprise at the 'Empress'' sudden appearance would provide a momentary pause. It was why her hair was not hidden under a cowl, merely tied back to allow ease when battle commenced. Her lightsaber was waiting against her hip.

Eyes opened prior to leaving hyperspace and Navaria's face grew grim in concentration as she got to her feet. Proceeding to the cockpit, the Jedi Master poked her head inside between Sanis and Cirrsseeto. Eyes were focus ahead at the enormous amount of traffic that circled the planet. "What is our status?"

[Sanis Prent]

"That's a lot of damn Star Destroyers, Cirr."

They were hard to miss, really. You don't lose a mile-long battleship like you do a spare power converter. The familar dagger-hull ships hung lazily in orbit, none really coming or going. By visual count, I saw a dozen. That didn't count what I was sure I was missing on the dark side of the planet. The only thing comforting to you when you see that much cold grey death in front of you is to imagine you're too small and inconsequential for them to notice, which was incidentally our plan of attack.

It didn't take all that long for an incoming message to reach us. No doubt it was whoever was in charge of guiding all of these buckets to and from the planet. No fucking this up, because there was a big chance they probably had a star destroyer or two on speed dial.

"Corellian freighter, this is Imperial Sector Harbor Master 98742. Identify yourself, slow your approach to 75% and align onto the transmitted vector."

A series of waypoints were transmitted to the ship, and I plugged them in, noting bitterly that their suggested flight plan carried us very close to not just one, but two Star Destroyers.

I tapped the transmit key on the comm, and gave the closest thing to a non-chalant reply as I could.

"Harbor Master, this is Dug's Ugly Sister, on approach from Cato Neimoidia on business. Requesting landing clearance in Bindai district, uh, thank you."

I clicked off the comm in time for Cirr to mouth silently thank you?! with an incredulous look on his face, to which I simply shook my head tersely.

As I awaited the Harbor Master's clearance, Layla cruised along the given waypoint. One of the Star Destroyers began to loom large in my cockpit windows. So, it came as a bit of a shock when Navaria Tarkin (you think a name like that makes me nervous in a place like this?) climbed up into the cockpit to ask for a status update. I flinched a bit, not expecting that.

"Status is officially buttocks-clenched, ma'am."

For emphasis, I gestured to aforementioned Star Destroyer.

"So far, we're not dead yet."

Again, looking for a release from the tension, I put on a casual, easy smile, looking to the Jedi as she no doubt had her mind on bigger things.

"You know, Navaria is it? You look damn familiar. Like we've met before in a past life, if I believed in that sort of thing."

What was I doing? Hitting on a Jedi Master as certain death surrounded us. I've done more craven things before, but probably not many.

With a shrug, I was eyes forward again.

No regrets.

[Jason Na'moda]

Jason felt the deceleration, as well as the malign radiation of the dark side from the planet. Being the Capital of a previously Sith Ruled state, it was saturated with the sense of evil. From Jason's perspective anyway. He stood up, cradling the helmet beneath one arm and stepped on a box to look out over the jedi amassed. He looked down at them and the thought occurred to him that many might die today. He frowned and put on his helmet, hearing the hiss as it pressurised and then the Heads up Display appearing. The systems in the helmet ran quick diagnostics which all came up green and along both sides were small icons of all the little gadgets he'd added to the armour. Flexing his hands, he checked his lightsabers were stored in the nondescript bantha leather pouch stored horizontally at the back of his belt.

Hopping down from his perch on the box, he stood next to Master Lowrook, glancing at his bounty hunter attire approvingly. "You seem to have taken on the part well Master, I approve of the blaster." The smile he wore didn't show outside the helmet but his semi-dry humour did. "Just as long as we live to use it." He glanced around at the jostling Jedi and realised that he didn't know what the immediate plan was as they reached planet side. That and an overbearing curiosity was driving him towards the cockpit. He waited for Lowrook to finish speaking and would answer before he began to push his way through to the main ship from the cargo hold. The door which hissed closed behind him or Lowrook if the Wookie followed him, and the noise of the hold muffled with it. Moving through the ship with confident steps, Jason found the cockpit immediately and, seeing the number of people seated around it or standing, was content to lean against the wall, removing his helmet now simply because it'd be more polite. "How're things going in here?" He spoke quietly in case Sanis needed to use the comms. He noticed Navaria quickly. That interested him, the twin sister of the Empress on a mission to rescue a high priority prisoner of the Empire. The family dinners were not going to be a happy affair after this, if they ever were. "What's the plan for when we land?" He asked Ms Tarkin since she wasn't working on whether they were all going to live through the lines of star destroyers. She was beautiful, stunning in fact, he couldn't help but notice, but also she had a look in her eye that suggested to him that any attempt at seduction, or things of that nature would be wasted.

[Lowrook]

Lowrook depressed the trigger and spun the barrel, but didn't engage the power pack. He looked over at Jason with mock surprise.

"What, this old thing? I use it to shoot some sort of woodland vermin in some rut in the ground? That is the correct way of phrasing it right? And just in case it misses, I have this."

Popping open another case, he produced another Merr-Sonn Rotary Underarm Carbine. He plugged it in and hefted both of them spinning their barrels with a whine from the engines.

"Wookie Droideka."

As soon as the Layla landed, Lowrook would join Team 2, who was in charge of rescuing Serena. While most carry lightsabers, the ability to lay down Force Targeted whithering firepower was an asset. It also made him look less like a Jedi Master than a Hutt regurgitating green slime.

He was ready.

[Naomi Lang]

In the Layla one person amongst the group was far removed from the camaraderie. Naomi Lang, former Inquisitorial Agent. No class or designation with that, just plain Agent, people who were in some sort of limbo between enlisted ranks and being a full Inquisitor. Carte blanche on almost anything the Inquisition could think of.

And now she was stuck of a piece of dren rust bucket with more Jedi than she had known existed on some karked up suicide mission to Coruscant to spring some Jedi bitch from the Inquisition….who’d tried paying off her pension check with a nice, polite bullet between the eyes.

Yeah, go towards the people that try to kill you. That’s smart.

The Alliance hadn’t even let her take her gear along.

At least Maren had given her the option of taking a side-arm. And promptly refused when Naomi asked for a disruptor. So here she was stuck with a pea-shooter blaster.

“Hey furball!”

Naomi looked at the wookie from her seat on some tucked-away bench playing around with the toy of a gun Maren gave her.

“You have a decent slugthrower in that kit? Semi-auto would be nice. I promise not to shoot anyone.”

[Lowrook]

“Hey furball! You have a decent slugthrower in that kit? Semi-auto would be nice. I promise not to shoot anyone.”
Lowrook look down at the smaller woman. He smiled, bearing his teeth. "Well then what is the use of having a blaster if you are not going to shoot someone?"

He wuffed a laugh at his own joke. It had been awhile since he joked. He could feel the turmoil in her as dark side met light side... it was the same thing that Lowrook felt. He nodded to the box where he had pulled out both of his Merr-Sonn Underslung Rotary Carbines. In the bottom, along with 5 power packs was a N'Gant Zarvel 9118 Heavy Carbine with a wooden stock (Boba Fett's gun). "You had use that. My fingers are a little big for it."

[Jason Na'moda]

Jason laughed at the Wookie's sense of humour, it was good to lighten up the atmosphere, otherwise people would choke on their own sense of duty. Jason was going to follow Lowrook into the shuttle in order to rescue the captive master, simply because he added a new skill set to the team. Being able to remain at altitude could be useful in providing an eye in the sky.

[Abarai Loki]

Beside Corell stood Loki, his arms folded and eyes trained on an unoccupied section of floor in the middle of the room. While others revised mission strategies and cracked jokes, he remained as silent as he had been for the entire duration of the journey, and instead ruminated upon the exorbitant amount of time he'd recently spent hanging around in cargo bays. Including today. Inwardly, he was aching for action, and made no effort to disguise his disinterest in his comrades' conversations and their contemptuous small talk.

In his mind there was no doubt. Every detail was committed to memory; he knew his role and the roles of his teammates, and he was also fully briefed on missions elsewhere in the Imperial Center. His confidence was unshakable, as was his belief in the Jedi. It was refreshing to sense in Corell an uncharacteristic sobriety, the kind that would sculpt her into a disciplined Jedi Knight. A thought occured to him and he found himself wondering if there was anything else he could do, some nugget of wisdom he could impart, to better prepare his apprentice for the challenge ahead, but he quickly cast it aside. He would be with there. She was safe.

In place of his black robes and the elegant haori, he wore a smart sand-coloured shirt with a pair of brown cargo pants, a fully-loaded utility belt, a black ammo vest burdened with stuffed pockets, and a pair of regulation field boots. It was a far cry from his usual look and yet, as uncomfortable as he felt, Loki had wasted a shameful length of time choosing his attire. And now he resembled a privilaged suburban teenager who had just discovered scrak music and sought to rebel against his overbearing parents with a spot of heavy arson. A soft tremor rumbled through the bones of the ship as it broke Coruscant's atmosphere, and the congregation stirred.

It was the day of days, for him, and for the rest of the Jedi. When all of their efforts; the secrecy, the training, the years spent in hiding; when it would all culminate in one singular moment of resistance: a proud declaration that they were back, and they were unstoppable.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Sanjis..."

Cirr pointed to the Star Destroyer they were passing directly in front of. The Aurebesh emblazoned on the hull at the command tower clearly displayed the ship's name:

Decimator

What kind of bad joke was this? There wasn't a bit of tell-tale marking on the ship to distinguish them (Cirr had gone over the ship with a fresh coat of paint before the mission), but it still gave him the creeps to be passing this close to the very same Destroyer that had almost done them all in a few months prior.

As Cirr got flutters in his stomach from seeing their old enemy, the comms came alive again.

"Dug's Ugly Sister, under the Deep Core Commerce Act, you are required to submit a cargo manifest for landing clearance."

Wordlessly, Cirr loaded the forged documents, hitting the transmission key to beam them to the harbor master. Another few seconds passed, as they crossed Decimator command tower nearly close enough to see inside the bridge.

"Sanjis, just keep steady, alrrjight."

The felinoid's ears dipped down as a worried expression grew on his face.

[Sanis Prent]

"Glad you told me otherwise, Cirr. Was just thinking about putting two cheeks on the glass and getting in a hit & run."

Everybody's eyes were on the Destroyer as we passed. I eventually turned away. Honestly, if they were gonna get us, it was gonna happen in a hurry, and no worrying about the bogeyman immediately starboard was gonna fix that.

I decided to make small talk.

"What's on the fake manifest, anyway?"

Cirr, still worried, took part in the escapism.

"Fjish candy."

I suddenly remembered the two crates of those disgusting little Cizerack junk foods that we actually did have on board for some reason.

"Well, at least if they try to board us, we'll have a supply of deadly weapons."

At last, the comms came in again.

"Harbor master to Dug's Ugly Sister. Manifest received. Enjoy your stay on Coruscant. Long Live the Empress and the Empire."

Feeling a bit of euphoria wash over me, I flashed a confident smirk back Navaria's way as I tapped the comm.

"Ditto on that, Harbor Master."

Now clear of Decimator, we headed toward the atmosphere in earnest. I punched the voxcomm to speak to the whole ship.

"Alright ladies and gents, looks like we're in. Team Two, form up and head to deck two and board the Black Cat. I'll be there in a minute to take you to your insertion point.

Team Three, you'll be staying aboard Layla, and Lieutenant Raurrssatta here will get you to your waypoint. Any questions?"

The traffic lanes appeared below as we hit high atmosphere, and as the ship shuddered a little, I waited for my passengers to get their bearings.

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi got up and holstered the pistol at her hip. She took a look into the crate and cringed a bit at the weapon. It wasn't that the 9118 wasn't a bad gun, it just wasn't a style she liked.

The damn things made a good amount of noise and were finicky when it came to certain enviroments. And Lang definitely was not happy about bringing energy weapons against the Inquisition. While definitely not as advanced, her time with Project Nightmare had gotten her used to projectile weapons.

She kicked up the weapon to her hands and a few seconds flat had the thing barrel stripped apart. The ex-Imperial flipped out a knife she'd pilfered from an alliance solder before she'd been shipped off to the jedi and began tinkering in the guts of the weapon.

One thing with N'Gant-Zarvel guns, they weren't too hard to modify and tweak if you knew what you were doing. Probably could cannibalize some parts off of some other stuff around here.

"Alright ladies and gents, looks like we're in. Team Two, form up and head to deck two and board the Black Cat. I'll be there in a minute to take you to your insertion point.

Naomi had to shake here head at the Sanis guy. He was smarmy bastard and annoying as hell. She kinda liked the guy.

"Yay! Dive into a vornskr lair with no intel, a suicidal plan, and a bunch of amatuers that don't have any idea what they're dealing with. Anyone want to take bets on who gets killed first."

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan returned from the cockpit, satisfied his handiwork would hold.
He raised an eyebrow at Naomi's comment. One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly.

"Just because you don't have information doesn't mean we don't. We're not stupid, just crazy. There's so much that can go wrong with this plan the universe is going to give up and it'll work anyway." He said and finished with a big grin. If life over the past 2 years had taught him anything, it was that the plan would work. Why not?

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira dismounted from his crate, knowing that was his cue to head upstairs to the shuttle. Before he did that, he sought out a friend, giving Loki a tap on his shoulder.

"Good luck down there, friend. I look forward to hearing of your success."

He extended his hand to his younger dueling partner, just before heading up the ladder to two deck.

[Abarai Loki]

"Today, Anbira Hicchoru, there will be no deferred victories."

He accepted the handshake and tried his best to reciprocate the vigor in Anbira's grip, despite his blatant discomfort with the gesture. It crossed his mind to share the common Jedi equivalent of good luck when a thought occured to him, he regarded the ex-serviceman, and simply said:

"Good hunting."

[Drin Kizael]

Drin Kizael sat in the farthest corner of the converted cargo bay where he could find room. For the time being, his only task was to keep his big furry frame out of the way.

"Team Three, you'll be staying aboard Layla, and Lieutenant Raurrssatta here will get you to your waypoint. Any questions?"

As the majority of the Jedi rose and prepared to disembark, Kizael caught the fleeting sense of frustration and pushed it into a little compartment in his mind and locked it. He did not like staying out of the main assault, but tactically speaking, he was of more use in the third team, covering their escape.

The big felinoid scooted off the crate he had been sitting on and leaned back on his haunches, testing the flexibility of his armor. Like the others, he discarded the contemporary robes for more practical combat gear. Unlike some others, it was an easy transition for him, falling back into the role of a Trianii Ranger.

He wore swoop goggles atop his head and a large green scarf over his neck. Light armor plating covered his broad shoulders, forearms, and legs, strapped over a padded, urban-gray jumpsuit. With the DL-50 sidearm and a DH-17 rifle strapped across his back, he looked every bit the Rebel soldier.

When the space around him was clear, he rose and drew a sturdy metal rod from his belt. He hit a stud and the weapon telescoped in his hand. He turned the staff through a simple maneuver, testing the weight of the phrik alloy weapon, then thumbed another switch which triggered a low hum from the vibrostaff.

Several padawans back at the Wheel had offered their lightsabres for the mission. As incomplete as he felt without one, he felt it would do more harm than good to storm the heart of the Empire wielding an unfamiliar blade. For his part of the mission, he wasn't sure how much melee combat there would be anyway.

And he had a nagging feeling that the padawans would need their lightsabres. That locked compartment in his mind started to rattle, stirred again by the sense that this rescue mission was part of something far bigger than it appeared. He quieted his mind again, bringing his focus back to the moment at hand.

Kizael collapsed the staff and sheathed it as the last of his fellow Jedi filed out. Navaria paused as she passed in the hall outside the cargo hold. He held her eyes for a moment and nodded slowly, channeling what portion of his will and his strength he could offer through the simple gesture.

He remained silent, but sent a thought before she turned to go. "May the Force be with you, kozhi."

[Daria Nytherciria]

On her way to following Anbira up the ladder to deck two, Daria paused by Morgan. She brushed fingertips against the crook of his arm and smiled, recalling the first time they had met (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=15161), back on Arkania. He had a remarkable knack for seeing sense, even in the nonsensical, and his practical approach would surely be a boon to those working with him. “We'll see you again soon.”

As she turned away, Daria felt Navaria returning to rejoin the group. Long strides carried her towards the Jedi Master, though she glanced at Drin Kizael along the way, offering the Trianii a nod. Without any further farewells, she braced her boot against the first rung of the ladder that would lead them to the Black Cat shuttle and began to climb up after Navaria.

[Mara Tallen]

Fingers tapped across her lower lip as she lost herself in thought, alone amidst the sea of of Jedi as they split apart according to their missions. Mara tucked a few grenades in amidst the coils of wire before closing it carefully and pulling the straps of the backpack snug around her shoulders. It was surprisingly compact for the sheer amount of explosives it carried, looking no larger than any normal bag would.

Her thoughts tried to stray back to Bothawui and the day her life had gone straight to hell, but she pulled it back from the brink time and again. Now was not the time to dwell on the fact that her career had been completely derailed because she'd been stupid enough to fall in love and naive enough to posess a modicum of hope that it might work. But no...there was no room in Dorn Force for her, and she'd been blindsided in the meeting with the General. Not a single one of them had spoken in favor of her staying. Not even John.

Worse perhaps was the knowledge that because of the mess she couldn't even go back to her old regiment and her old command. Apparently the pride of the 6th didn't extend to welcoming Dorn's reject back into the fold. So here Mara was, on a mission to help pluck a Jedi out of the Empire's claws, amidst a host of Jedi who's names she didn't even know.

Mara did the only thing she could and stuffed the pain in a box and buried it deep at the back of her mind. There would be time afterwards to deal with it, but right now her expertise and experience was needed. She swiftly tucked a pair of Mandalorian iron knives into her boots, while a pair of heavily modified verpine shatter blasters found their way into the holsters strapped to her thighs. Around her waist, the multi-pocketed utility belt no soldier ever went without. A specially designed earpiece tucked into her right ear, and finally a special braided metal wire came to rest around her neck. Made of a number of alloys and elements that were unknown to her, it was the only thing she carried that would not 'disappear' when she shifted into her feline form. A tell-tale sign that it was her if she was incapacitated and could not communicate to the rest of the team.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr watched as Sanis vacated his seat, his ears twitching to betray his concern.

"Be safe down therre, Sanjis."

It suddenly hit him that, if something bad happened, this might be the last time they saw each other.

[Sanis Prent]

I gave a lopsided grin to my best friend, bracing on the ladder leading down to deck two.

"Don't get any more dings in the hull than you've got to, you big gundark."

Descending down the ladder, I gave a mock salute.

"And worry about your own ass, Cirr. Me, I'm gonna live forever!"

Inwardly, I reciprocated everything. Cirr knew I did too.

"Good luck, buddy."

Saying goodbyes, I slid down the rest of the way to two deck. The bulkhead door leading to the shuttle bay was already open, and I could see the last throngs of Jedi Knights crammed aboard. Opting for the side hatch insead of the rear payload compartment, I eased into the cockpit, firing up the controls.

"We got everybody we need? Alright, here we go."

The hatches sealed, and I released the clamps on the strut support, allowing the shuttle to move on its own independent energy once I fired it up.

"We're green for launch Cirr, pop the bay doors."

The monolithic dark surface ahead peeled back in a blinding sliver of light, gradually revealing the broad daylight Coruscant skyline. Easing up on repulsors, I retracted the skids, and pushed out into Layla's thrust wash, giving a gentle push as I eased the shuttle's own engines into gear, sending us on a salient skylane that would carry us to Coruscant's underbelly (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=21206).

[Morgan Evanar]

Postin from mah phone. Willl fix formatting an speeling latar.
Layla bounced ever so slightly as her load was lightend. They were going to be hitting the tractor beam station from swoops and speeders. Part of Morgan was overjoyed, part was calm, and part was troubled. In his grey jacket he had a pair of wide view goggles and what looked like a thick balacavla. Bugs stung at 250 km/h.

He had some concerns. There were a few first time riders in the group. The timetable was tight to start with. Drin might know what to do with Mara's magic bag if something happened, but it would be a good idea if he knew too.

"So Mara, what's in the bag of tricks?"

[Corell Capstan]

Corell got to her feet, swaying as the Layla lurched with it's shuttles departure. She looked around at those who were left in the cargo bay. Without the likes of Lowrook and Anbira Hicchoru to fill out the room, it suddenly felt very empty. The blonde paced over to her master. “Would'a thought you'd want to go with them,” she said, with a nod off towards the ladder that had taken Navaria and the others out of sight. “Takin' the fight to the Inquisitors.”

[Abarai Loki]

"Today, my fight is elsewhere," he said, lifting his gaze, "Choosing our battles is a luxury we are rarely afforded, Corell. It is something you may want to take into future consideration, given your jump-first-look-later approach to... everything."

Then his expression hardened, and he folded his arms, inspecting his apprentice from head to toe; she had dressed appropriately for the mission, and looked well-equipped, but her posture was a frightful mess. Inwardly, he fought off the desire to start prodding and poking her into some sort of respectable shape. But in their time together, Loki had learnt a few things about being a mentor; sometimes, what a student needed to hear, and what the teacher believed, were two completely different things.

"Remember, this is not about taking the fight to the Inquisitors, or anyone else for that matter. We have a mission to complete, that is all."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Sjit tjight, guys...we'rre on ourr descent!"

Layla began a lazy loop down to a floating landing pad. The big ship's running lamps kicked on automatically on landing approach, as the repulsors cushioned their landing to give the struts time to ease down for a soft touchdown. A pro on the Corellian ship's systems, Cirr worked the cooldown checklist as quickly as possible, then bounded up to slide down the ladder well to deck three.

"Follow me down. Got a ljittle prresent forr each of you."

With a knowing wink, Cirr slid the rest of the way down to four deck, and began working the catches on a pair of large cargo containers in the lower hold. The doors to each box fell forward with a thud, allowing Cirr to muscle the contents of each box outside: a half dozen Ikas-Adno 22-B Nightfalcon speeder bikes.

"Fjigurred jit best that we kept the jissue of sourrcjing ourr bjikes jin house."

Cirr wiped away any of the packing filler that clung to the bikes, giving each seat a loving pat-down.

"Just...uh...don't ask how we got 'em, heh-heh."

With a bit of a sheepish grin, the felinoid mechanic stepped aside to punch the main gangplank controls, lowering the ramp to the deck.

"jI put us down about sjix kjilometerrs frrom yourr objectjive. Can't get much closerr, rreally. The rrest of the way overr jis prretty dense, and the last kjilometerr jis jinsjide an jImperrjial corrdon."

He crossed his arms as he leaned against a bulkhead, addressing his passengers.

"Past that, jI fjigurre you'd betterr put a heavy foot down and get rready to do a lot of shootjing."

[Drin Kizael]

Kizael knelt back down on his spot on the deck as Mara went over the contents of her ordinance bag. A gentle sigh slipped as the Jedi gathered his energy for the coming battle. He looked at his weapons and armor with a fleeting air of disapproval.

These were strange times indeed, he thought to himself as he checked the safety and energy feed on his rifle one last time. He raised the weapon up straight from the floor, resting it against his head and closing his eyes.

"So uncivilized," he heard a familiar voice ring in his head. The trianii's ears perked up reflexively and he looked up. Idly he wondered if Anbira Hicchoru was still on board, but his team's shuttle had launched several minutes ago. The Jedi shook his head chuckled softly despite himself.

The felinoid braced himself, but relaxed at the surprisingly soft landing, and followed everyone else down to the lower deck at Cirr's prompting. He smiled broadly as the Cizerack first mate unveiled the speeder bikes. They were impressive machines, much nicer than anything the Rebels would have likely supplied them.

"Good work, Cirrsseeto."

...

"Past that, jI fjigurre you'd betterr put a heavy foot down and get rready to do a lot of shootjing."

"I take it there is no point in a stealth approach. Hence the focus on speed."

[Mara Tallen]

"So Mara, what's in the bag of tricks?"Turning to find the source of the voice, she found herself eye to eye with one of the Jedi, a man in possession of a pair of vividly bright eyes. She paused a moment, before answering, and tried to remember what she'd heard one of the others call him. "Just about everything a girl could need to blow the entire tractor beam to smithereens, Morgan..." Mara paused briefly to open the pack and point a few things out, her smile wicked. "...let's see...cryoban grenades, proton grenades, these three packs are basic plastic explosive, and this blue one is a new blend of chemicals the Alliance scientists came up with. The rest is det tape, wiring, timers, caps, and a remote detonator. All else fails, flip the delay switch on one of the proton grenades, close up the bag, and toss or leave the whole thing. It'll take out the tractor beam and then some."

She'd have continued, but the Layla was landing, and there was no more time. The pack strapped snugly to her back, she checked her weapons and followed the grinning felinoid down to the lower deck.

Mara laughed and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek at the sight of the shiny new speederbikes. "Cirr, darlin', I don't care where they came from...just tell me I can keep this gorgeous thing when we're done..." She climbed onto one of them and made a few minor adjustments before she pulled up a slip of fabric from the back of her neck. It neatly covered her coiled auburn curls and remained in place as she tugged a pair of thick goggles onto her head and climbed back off to get the 'bike down the ramp.

"A heavy foot and shooting is my specialty. Might even rip a few Imperial throats out to make it a party."

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan whistled softly.
"Nice." He said appreciatively. He was expecting something with less new speeder smell. He looked over the bike furthest from anyone else. It was the military spec model, complete with blasters and flat gray paint. He'd seen a few on Nar Shadda, and nearly stole one from near the Imperial Garrison there. They weren't as fast, nor did they fly as high as the newer Shadowhawks used by the Imperial Scouts, but they handled about the same, and they bested the older 74-Z. For the six klicks they needed to cover, they probably would kiss top speed if they were lucky.

"I always wanted one of these when I was a kid." He straddled the speeder, and flicked some packing foam away. He'd read the operations and service manual several times before bed.

"The power switch should be right..." Morgan reached down, just before the handle bars, and flicked the largest switch cover up. "...here." He pushed the thumb-in-armor friendly button down, and the speeder burbled to life. The smallish display indicated a full charge of both fuel and tibanna. No speed indicator. He pulled gently up on the handlebars. The repulsors whined harder harder to compensate for the Jedi's and the bike's mass. The nose rose up a little first, and the rest of the bike edged up. He feathered the foot throttle, and the bike inched forwards. He pulled the right hand brake, and the bike stopped. He pulled the left and the airbrakes flared out.

"Everyone know how to fly these things?" He asked. It was more of a sanity check. Corell, Drin and Mara he was fairly certain of. Loki, he just didn't know if he'd been on one. They'd all had pictures of the facility they were supposed to disable, and a rough overview of it's defenses. Some Imperial Army regulars and technicians. The gate they'd be able to jump over with the bikes. The cordon wasn't as well reviewed.

[Corell Capstan]

“My da owns a swoop-works.. used to love tooling around with his vintage Starhawk 2b,” Corell answered Morgan's question with a grin, as she saddled up the Nightfalcon. Having inherited her old man's love for and skill with repulsorcraft, she was practically at home behind the Nightfalcon's controls. A glance at Loki, however, told Corell that the young Jedi Knight wasn't exactly in familiar territory. Her grin widened, as she reached a hand back to pat the swoop's flank.

“There's room for two on here.”

[Abarai Loki]

"I will ride with Corell," he announced quietly, "To... provide cover in our approach."

Her offer provided him with an opportunity, and as it was easier to deal such delicate matters quickly, he mounted the bike without ceremony. It would not do, he reminded himself, to consider the means used to obtain their chosen method of transport, and despite this, he still somehow felt a little... dirty. The swoop hummed to life beneath him and that his feet were no longer touching the ground was a sudden cause for concern. The boarding ramp lowered with a hiss and a clunk, spilling garish light into the cargo hold, and a deep breath washed over them. Loki glanced over his shoulder to find Cirrsseeto standing guard over the last lonely swoop.

"Cirrsseeto Raurrssatta, may the-" he paused, and considered his friend, "I will see you soon."

[Drin Kizael]

Kizael flashed a smirk as he tossed a leg over the speeder bike. "Yes, I've been on a swoop or two in my day. This is a bit lighter, but the mechanics are the same."

He went about checking for the location of key controls and gently testing guidance and throttle systems. It took a moment to adjust the foot pedal position for his long legs. He looked instinctively for the mass-lift compensator, and raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise when he felt the repulsorlift engine automatically adjust for his weight. "Nice," he commented with appreciation.

The Jedi tapped the navigation console and watched the screen zero in on the mission coordinates. They didn't dare slice the bikes into the planet's GPS network, so the map had an algorithm that estimated the trip's passage through the city.

He cast a final glance around the team to make sure they were ready as he pulled the oversize bandanna over his jowls and lowered his goggles. He paused a second to take in a cleansing breath, reaching out through the Force to insure that the immediate launch point was clear. Then with a light tap of the throttle, he flew down the ramp and out into the heart of Imperial Center.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr smiled at Loki's moment of empathy, and gave a little two-fingered salute from his vantage by the bulkhead.

"May the forrce be wjith you, Lokji."

He glanced at the whole group as they throttled the speeder bikes, turning the lower cargo hold into a loud echo chamber of powerful engines. It effectively drowned out all conversation. Even still, Cirr spoke to the assembled Rebels and Jedi with a bit of wistful awareness that it might be the last time he would see some of them.

"May the forrce be wjith you all."

Pulling out of the way and climbing halfway up on one of the storage crates, he cleared the lane to let the rest of the speeders pass.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan pulled on his speeder kit, and let the goggles snap against his eye sockets with a thunk. He looked appropriate for a swoop bike gang member.
"Last one to the target's a Bantha's Momma!" Morgan whooped, and fed power to his Nightfalcon with abandon. Things were going to get very interesting at that cordon.

Interesting probably meant messy. They were all banking on the fact that the Imperials were figuring no swoop gang would be dumb enough to charge right at them.

[Mara Tallen]

She would have laughed for the sheer joy of speeding along on a swoop-bike, but it wasn't really the best of moments to do so. After the mission was completed successfully, then it would be an appropriate time to cut loose a little.

Now, she had work to do...and gods knew, she loved what she did.

Mara blazed along beside Morgan, gaze narrowed behind her goggles as her fingers curled tightly over the handles. The slender knuckles and joints of her fingers were a pale white as she allowed her beast to ascend, only a fraction of it...allowing it to further enhance her senses and improve her reflexes. She'd need the edge and instincts her feline half offered if this was going to work.

As they whipped around the last bend in their proscribed path, the generator came into view, the several story structure surrounded by the visible security measures they'd expected. The last kilometer lay before them, a straight shot past the company of troopers and the guardpost that marked the cordon.

Almost upon them, Mara freed one hand and slapped it on the console to kill her ignition. The resulting snap and near loss of control catapulted her forward in an almost picturesque arc. She shifted in mid air, the sleek black bodysuit rippling and expanding as her human form was lost beneath that of her feline self.

Deep auburn fur seemed to flood upward from her skin to encompass her new shape, the heavy musculature and bone structure of a Felacatian. Though she lacked the heavy spikes that normally adorned her species' brows and backs, she did possess their thick, elongated upper canines and vicious claws. Mara landed on a stunned trooper and flattened him before she pivoted on her hind legs and lept to a second, claws ripping into the unprotected joints of his armor and the tender flesh beneath.

[Corell Capstan]

Having waggled her goggles into place, Corell revved the swoop's engines and sent the bike lurching out of the Layla's hangar. For an instant, she felt Loki clinging onto her – but as she eased the throttle and he, most likely, realised what he had gone, his hands fell away.

Mara and Morgan lead the way in their miniature convoy. Corell kept the controls steady though her eyes wandered more than once to their surroundings, as she caught sight of hints of movement across the landscape. Coruscant was a world of contrasts, with grandeur and dereliction often occupying the same square parsec of land. Though she'd spent a chunk of her childhood on the so-called Jewel of the Core, Corell couldn't see anything that made her sick for the past. This wasn't the world she remembered.

Their path curved and as they angled close to the dirty walls of another high-rise, an unmistakable structure came into view: the generator. The collective snarl of their engines suddenly grew louder, foregoing any semblance of stealth as they came into full view of the security forces on duty. They were barely within range of the guard-post when Corell felt her whole body clench, as Mara Tallen was hurled out of her seat – but the panic was short lived, as the Rebel trooper quite literally twisted in mid-air and collided with an unfortunate Stormtrooper in the form of a huge feral cat.

Whatever Loki had planned, Corell had a feeling it wouldn't be quite so dramatic. She pushed the swoop hard towards the guards, who were already reeling as much in shock as from the bloody swathe Tallen was cutting through them, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, Corell shouted over the howl of the wind rushing by.

“You got any theatrics like that stuffed up you robe-sleeves, master?”

[Abarai Loki]

"Don't stop. Remember your objective. We will rendezvous at the generator."

Using Corell for support, Loki climbed out of his seat and kicked off the back of the swoop, a smart backwards flip, and through the assault of rushing wind he had the foresight to use his lightsaber to deflect a brave blaster bolt back to one of the guards. It was all done on instinct, but as he rose from his knee, with the familiar hum of the Jedi weapon in his hand, he realised the gravity of his actions. They were revealed at last and there was no going back.

He positioned himself between a band of troopers and the marauding Mara, and after the briefest moment of hesitation, they raised their carbines. A volley of blaster fire was launched his way, it was scattered by a flurry of blue light, again, and again. This standoff was absolutely pointless. He barked over his shoulder to the hulking feline beast, hoping it was capable of basic comprehension.

"When you've quite finished acting the fool," he paused, and pulled one of the armed guards through the air towards him. A sharp hiss and a shriek, he was speared by the lightsaber and served thereafter as a shield against the renewed attacks of his comrades. His body shuddered from the impact while Loki closed the distance between himself and the transformed Rebel operative. Then, with an unnatural low rumble, the limp body was catapulted between battle lines, and fell, burying a pair of stunned troopers beneath it.

"We have a mission to do. Get on your swoop!"

[Drin Kizael]

Kizael winced at the sight of Mara -- the one with all the explosives -- leading the speeder pack on point. He felt his mouth wanting to curl into a snarl as the Felacatian -- still bearing the satchel full of explosives -- leaped headlong into a sea of Stormtroopers.

In moments like this he wondered if Trianii were blessed to be the only truly evolved felinoid species in the universe. It made him almost miss working with clones.

Although going through the guards was the only viable option (simply trying to fly over them across 1km of open ground would be suicidal) he thought the plan was for the rest of the team to distract and lay down cover fire first. If he learned anything in war, though, it was that battle plans were organic.

Following up on Loki's unintended distraction, the Jedi angled the swoop down, gathering up energy through the Force as he descended a few hundred meters past Loki's position. He unleashed a kinetic wave into the guards as he twisted the bike barely a meter over the line of enemy helmets.

Near a dozen white armored figures sailed backwards in a flailing mass of limbs just as he came to a fishtail stop perpendicular with the road, then raced off behind a small structure an instant before a hail storm of green crashed down on the spot.

Kizael rolled off the speeder bike onto the one-story building, rifle poised to fire at the end of the motion. He squeezed off two shots, dropping two Stormtroopers from their perches on each of the distant guard towers as easily as if aiming a sniper rifle.

With a quick scan of the battlefield, he waved Morgan onward, and returned to laying down suppressing cover fire.

[Corell Capstan]

Corell twisted sharply to get one last look at Loki as he was, at least in her minds eye, frozen for an instant in mid-air, his clothes billowing and the wind buffeting him on all sides – and then he was gone, plummeting what must have been no less than thirty feet and landing with remarkable feline grace. Her last glimpse of him was Loki tearing a trooper towards him and skewering the man on his saber – and then it straining to see over her shoulder wasn't a possibility any-more. Over the wind, she heard another of the engines growing distant as Kizael lagged behind.

There was only the two of them now, her and Morgan. Corell felt a stray blaster bolt sizzle through the air near her left flank and weaved away, daring to throw a quick glance over her shoulder to see where Evanar was.

[Mara Tallen]

Note to self, never accept another mission assignment with Jedi involved...

Mara dipped her head to acknowledge that she'd heard Loki and did as he asked. She was a soldier first, and orders were to be obeyed. Someone, though, would be getting an earful when they got back to the Wheel.

Great bounding leaps took her back to her waiting swoop, where she landed in the seat in her human form once more. The engine roared back to life as she flipped the ignition switch, a fact for which she was infinitely grateful. The last time she'd pulled this little maneuver, her bike hadn't restarted and she'd had to complete the mission on Tattooine on foot. Or paw, as it were.

Her eyes still glowed amber as she checked Drin's position and then glanced at Loki one more time before she shook her head and cussed under her breath in Mando'a. She revved the engine on the 'bike and drove it forward to the young Jedi's position and fishtailed it to knock over another trooper. As soon as Loki lept on on behind her, she punched it forward and put the pedal to the metal as the saying went, to catch up with Corell and Morgan.

[Morgan Evanar]

A siren tore the air apart. If the base didn't know they were there, they did now. An E-Web emplacement opened up. Normally faced outward, the two troopers had repositioned the weapon. The gunner cut the path in front of himself and Corell with blaster fire. Morgan evaded and slid left, away from the offending tower, closer to Corell. He cut throttle, and nosed up and to the right. Blaster bolts sailed between the two bikes. The gunner hoped to splash the pair in one salvo.

Morgan feathered the air brake and returned fire. The first shot went wide into the guard tower's base, but the second and third found home. The gunner was killed instantly. Part of their gambled had paid off. There were only two layers to the cordon. Only the outer had sizable walls. The inner was more of a formality with guard towers. Corell thumbed the blaster trigger. Bolts cut across the last guarded checkpoint between them and the entrance to the tractor beam emitters.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Back at Layla...

From Cirr's perch on the bridge, he got a limited command of the landing pad they were on, but could see little in the distance. Fortunately, from this point on, he was all electronic. He kept an earbud in one ear listening to the comm chatter from the speeders, while he kept what Imperial bands he could jack into rotating on the speaker. It didn't take too long from the first acknowledgment of an attack to pop up in Imperial chatter, though this was drowned out by a terrorist attack at a power relay. Cirr smiled, knowing Team One's diversion was at least turning plenty of heads.

"Good job, guys. Whateverr you'rre dojing, jit's got the jImperrjials falljing all overr themselves to rrespond to. Blow that towerr and get back herre soon!"

[Drin Kizael]

Alone outside the compound, Kizael paused another ten-count to make sure that the last of the outer defenses remained silent. The Jedi slowly lowered his rifle in one hand, rising to his feet and turning around.

He narrowed his eyes reflexively. Though they were unable to focus on the half dozen or so specks flying in tight formation still five kilometers away, his mind completed an adequate mental image from the collection of auras that reflected back to him through the Force. Four hover sleds flew in a diamond slot surrounding a troop transport with at least two swoops on point.

Kizael glanced behind him. The rest of the team was in, but not yet through the remaining security to plant the charges. He felt the passing urge to reach for a lightsabre that wasn't there, and instead changed power packs and thumbed the blaster rifle to full repeat.

The Jedi returned his focus on the incoming air speeders, now less than three klicks out already. He took a deep breath, leaving his rifle lowered in his right hand, and raising his left as if physically reaching to grab one of the specks growing in the sky.

He widened his stance and bowed his head, focusing tightly on his danger sense, which started pounding an alarm in his head immediately. He quickly shunted the sensation to a remote corner of his awareness from where he stretched a single, taut mental thread.

Then he sought out a single mind in the cloud of enemies.

The sensation started with the kind of battlefield hesitation that the Imperial recognized, but was trained to suppress. The expected, but unnaturally sharp spike in adrenaline that the feeling caused surged into a very unexpected memory of the reprimand he received three weeks earlier from his CO. A sense of self doubt crept through that, consumed with the rush of nervousness that he felt the day he met an ex girlfriend he hadn't thought about in years. Since she left him.

Two kilometers away, the gunner in the cockpit of the Imperial VAAT/e transport whirled in sudden confusion as the pilot started hyperventilating. "Zavrin what's wrong?" he yelled over the com.

Zavrin responded by widening his eyes even further. A storm of emotions battled for dominance behind his panicked eyes. He stared at the image of the enraged, hulking felinoid crouching on the bow of the craft tearing through the viewport with it's bare claws.

Kizael muffled the screaming alarm in his mind, holding his ground as he watched the large transport in the center of the formation veer off, cut horizontal against the formation, clip two hoversleds in its path, and tumble down a majestic heap of fire and tortured metal.

The Jedi Guardian poised the rifle in both hands, fired a burst that was far more for show than lethal effect at this range, and launched into a graceful front flip a quarter second before a score of green pylons decimated the roof where he stood.

The trianii arced down from the momentum of his kinetically enhanced leap right on one of the speeder bikes flying point, his powerful legs wrapped around the pilot in a scissor hold. He grabbed the bike's frame with his free hand, snapping into a flip that catapulted the rider into an approaching hoversled.

He landed in a crouch, rifle extended high to his side to avoid impact with the fall, peering up through his goggles at the squadron of Stormtroopers climbing out of the wreckage of the transport.

Somewhere in his rapid flow of thoughts, a feeling of hope that the others were almost done surfaced for an instant. Just as quickly, he whipped around and unloaded a stream of red darts through the speederbike and pilot bearing down on him.