RPlog:Ground Battle on Sullust

The rush and confusion, even if the Sullustans were prepared, of a great many figures rushing around the starport. AA guns are turned on and checked to make sure they are fully functional, troops are stationed around at various platforms, and lastly a Captain of the force placed to protect the spaceport is pacing back and forth on the largest cap-ship landing pad in the spaceport. His face is that of an angry Sullustan, but of that very serious. He doesn't say a word as he summons one of the men with a flick of the wrist. He then speaks quietly and the soldier moves on, looking a bit more sure of himself. The Captain then paces back towards one of the four-seater speeders and hops inside the back. "Gentlemen, this is a very serious day for us." he says, before waving a hand as the speeder scoots off so that the rest of the battlements can be checked quickly before the true invasion begins.

The final battle for Sullust was about to begin. Space had been pacified a month ago, and since then Imperial forces had been building up for the major attack on the volcanic planet. Thousands of Imperial troops had been deployed after having gone through extensive training in enviornments similiar to Sullust. A lot of the veterans in the ranks were fortunate to have experienced ground combat on Sullust several years ago, during the first battle there. Despite the hard training and leadership, many Imperial generals were still worried about the difficult enviornment and the will of the rebels down there. One thing was for certain, it was going to be a bloody battle. Hundreds of dropships descended through the atmosphere of Sullust, TIE Interceptors flying flanking positions around the dropships and troop escorts. First the Imperials had to gain control over the tower, and then proceed to take the starport and the major industrial areas on the planet intact, to allow for continued operations on the planet. Behind the troop escorts was the command vessel for the overall Imperial effort on the battle, a single Victory-class Star Destroyer, its shields up, but it did not appear to be ready to engage any rebels. It was purely a command vessel, used to coordinate all the various ground units in one cohesive force. It was here that the high ranking generals and commanders were, sitting over their tactical display screens and watching the battle unfold in real-time and ready to call in close-air support to help out the ground troops

In high orbit, ICC Dauntless hangs over the planet in silence. A bricklike shape detaches from her docking rack, glides out of the rack enclosure, and rotates as it descends towards the planet. "We have been tasked," explains TK-2501, holding onto the forward bulkhead as he addresses his squad of forty stormtroopers gathered in the dropship's bay, "with taking the beachhead at the spaceport. As you all know this will be both difficult and critical to the success of this arm of the invasion. We will use a standard J-17 fanning maneuver after the airstrike to clear the tarmac. Prepare yourselves to do your duty to the Empire." He settles his helmet onto his head, clasps the neckseal, and gives the Imperial salute. "Victor Imperium!" "VICTOR IMPERIUM!" shout the other troops in response, as one. "Scimitar Command, you may begin your bombardment," transmits TK-2501 as the dropship hammers through the atmosphere in a blazing fireball.

Among the troopers, on the brittle tone of their intra-squad communicators, 2503 wonders of the commander, "So, how many combat drops is this for you, boss?

A moment after the Captain zips off, the attack begins. The operator in the passenger's seat turns and informs the Captain. "Incoming, just pierced the atmosphere." he says. The Captain looks grim but shakes his head when asked if the retaliation shots should be fired. "Hold..." he says simply "Take aim." he adds almost pointedly, and immediately the guns aim themselves up at the sky, waiting tensely as the pinpoints hitting the atmosphere turn into streaks of light, with trails of condensation from the suddenly cooling gases. "Hold until we can hit them. Best to wait and guaruntee a hit than have them hit us as the guns are recharging." he explains to the rather puzzled communications operator. The AA guns, built to repel the smaller ships, are sprinkled throughout the landing pads, about 1 per 5 pads. A dozen heavy weapons surrounding the entire area, large enough to take out the dropships. "Eighteen," replies TK-2501, his voice crackling over the radios. "Not counting pacifications. You keep your head secured and your blaster set to short bursts, you'll be all right."

TK-2502 clicks a fresh magazine into her rifle. "Roger that, 2501. On your mark."

It was a lovely opera song that played from the music player on Danik's desk, in a stateroom that he took for his own personal use during the battle aboard the Victory-class Star Destroyer "HMS Selene." In addition to the music, he was sipping down some wine and looking out a viewport of the battle below. The room was very dim, some of the only light provided by the flash of artillery or other explosions. "The generals just want glory, nothing more. Captain Baedan gave a quick and decisive method for winning this battle, through air superiority and strategic bombardment alone. Would be saving a lot of lives.." Danik said, drinking down the first glass of wine as he talked to his guest, the former field marshal of Warlord Sekirol's army, Valtoor. "Let's see if General van Sen is up to snuff with this." Shooting past the dropships over the starport, the fighters of the 2nd Scimitar Bomber Command and the 121st Starfighter Wing dropped down towards the starport, and then the flak guns began to open fire, a heavy concentration of anti-air fire from the rebel positions. Almost immediately five scimitars went down in a blaze, two interceptors following the same fate. "Hold tight and clock your socks!" shouted Wing Commander Jim Raynor, the leader of the bomber units, explosions erupting his scimitar. "Bombs away!" With their nose pointed down, the scimitar pilots opened fire on several key points throughout the starport, notably the rebel pillboxes and anti-gun emplacements. This, however, was just the first attack run, and more were to follow. Imperial fighter losses were already mounting from the heavy anti-air fire, but they weren't about to leave the troopers to get slaughtered down there.

TK-2520 does one last equipment check, inspecting his rifle and ensuring his helmet is properly seated. Then, he sits at attention, more stiffly than is strictly necessary. His only reaction to the chatter on the communicator is to flex his fingers slowly, and then grip his weapon a bit more tightly. TK-2503 is quiet, if rather occupied by compulsively checking his weapons, one by one, with the air of a priest telling his beads

The Sullustan Captain furrows his eyebrows down as he glances at the operator and scowls. "Very well. Concentrate on the dropships now." he says, pointing up from his speeder which is well-manned and manages to swoop out of the way of the bomb blasts. He reaches down and grabs his own personal carbine from the bottom of the speeder's floor and checks it. Then one of the others in the speeder gets up and mans a mounted carbine, checking it as well as they prepare for the second wave, having had most of the smaller guns and three of the larger guns knocked out already from the explosions.

Cold blue eyes surveyed the carnage below, his smile twisting his face in an unpleasant manner. Turning away from the sheet of transparisteel, Tyrus Valtoor turned to Danik Kreldin, his posture straightening as his hands met at the small of his back. "Indeed. General van Sen is a talented man - I'm sure his ability will win through, as it most often does." The smile on the man's creased face withered as a bright flash liluminated his face. "There goes another emplacement," he said quietly, taking a glass of fine Sallichean wine from the nearby table. "Captain Baeden would have been well to press the issue. I don't know why we are even down there, my friend," he said to the former high admiral of the Imperial Navy. Despite the fact that he had been aprpehended and was pending COMPNOR investigation, his skills as a strategist had earned him a spot watching the violence unfold far beneath their mammoth command ship. The opera played pleasurably to his ears, a soundtrack supplementing the muffled sounds of battle.

TK-2501 rewraps the grip and stock of his repeating blaster with electrical tape, listening to the reports of the bombers as they release their payloads. "The field is mowed, boys. Let's play ball."

In complete silence the dropships sear down out of the sky towards the spaceport, leaving hundred-mile rips of steam behind them as they break the sound barrier several times over. Plasma blasts burst around them as they come in, one of the dropships wobbling and then tumbling end over end as it disintegrates into molten shrapnel. Another is spun sideways by a vaporized wing, knocks into a third, and both of them go twirling off in a death spiral into the ground. But the others keep coming. Laser fire and sonic booms wash over the spaceport's defenses as the first of the dropships screech to a halt and descend rapidly on repulsor power, inertial dampers screaming. As soon as they touch the ground, the rear doors slam open and Stormtroopers begin pouring out, moving swiftly towards hard cover under the covering fire of their comrades.

TK-2501 leans around the corner of the dropship's bulk, firing bursts into and over the defenders. "Go go go! Take the first anti-air gun and secure it, then move to the next!"

TK-2502 seems to be TK-2501's wingman, and remains on the other trooper's course. She's providing cover fire more than anything else; probably not an expert in the technical stuff. A little clot of the greener troopers hangs back for a moment, before being summarily chivvied out by their sergeants - the comchannels are momentarily full of polyglot cursing, until they fall into proper order, leapfrogging towards the dubious cover of one of the wrecked dropships. 2503, with his usual manic and terrified courage, is out in front....and whatever god watches over fools and little children has his eye on the black and white figure, as he picks his way through smaller debris craters like someone playing hopscotch.

Little beknownst to the foolish pilots who landed on the platforms furthest to the edges, the Sullustans have already readied for the moment should the Empire actually get men on the ground. A series of explosions rock the ground and a moment later it is clear that six or seven of the outermost platforms have been rigged with explosives, the dropships that landed on them splitting apart and pieces of them flying through the air. It does minimal damage to the invading force, but it is designed with confusion in mind, and to force the Imperial forces to be funnelled through the few pathways out of the ring of wreckage, where the much smaller Republic forces have gathered. Gather up at the points!" the Captain shouts as the speeder lines up behind the forces, ready to start shooting.

The debris does an excellent job in creating a massive U-shape, the bowl facing the generators of the heavy guns, the key point for the Imperial troops. Should the remaining 9 heavy guns be taken offline, the starport would be defenseless, and completely in the hands of the Empire.

Cadet Wilhelm Krieger is thrown to the deck the moment he steps out from the crater he ducked into upon being thrown out of his rack to the sound of explosions. The ground around him seems to convulse as explosions surround the platform. He scrambles after his A280 Blaster Rifle which was sent flying out of his hands, checks the safety and setting, and is ready for war. Although only newly commissioned, Wilhelm has seen the elephant before. He races to his feet, barking at the enlisted Marines around him, who are just as shocked as he was by the explosions, to follow him to the fighting lines. Leapfrogging from pile of debris to pile of debris, Krieger soon finds himself hunkered down not far from one of the port's nine defense guns, searching for a target.

The first bombing run was met with minimal success, but enough to get the dropships landed and their complement deployed. The anti-air fire was still very heavy, downing several more bombers; one such careened wildly off course following a direct hit and crashed right by a rebel pillbox. Despite the losses in the air, Jimmy Raynor was confident his bombers will get through. Only one more salvo before they break off and deploy to another arena on the field of battle, and the Imperials already on the starport should be well enough on their own. But reserve units were always close-by, resting aboard the "HIMS Selene," ready to deploy in the assistance of the Imperials on the starport. The bomber formation, flanked by their escorts, pull around and dive once again for the final bombing run. However, things run awry following the detonation of key explosives planted by the rebels. Smoke rising from the fire blinds many bombers, and they are forced to fly to a higher altitude. As a result their fire was going to be less accurate, and with the Imperials already on the ground, firing the bombs would most likely not be a good idea, too worried about friendly fire. The command came in from the "HMS Selene" to pull the bombers out and re-deploy them to another arena.

The "HIMS Selene," however, is already advancing over the starport, its massive, dagger shape casting a shadow over the field of battle. It was observing the battle, its generals and commanders inside gathering information and passing it along to the various troop commanders on the ground. The stateroom of Admiral Kreldin, however, was a different scenario. It was almost a completely different world, opera, wine, cigars. It was a show, more or less. "Oh, Captain Baeden did push it. Alas, the generals would not allow it, and my hands were tied. YOu should know why, being a former one yourself," Danik said, looking over at Valtoor. "Glory. That's what they all care about."

Smirking, the marshal turned his steady gaze to Kreldin. "And I suppose a man such as yourself - famed pilot, officer, admiral, swoop racer - wouldn't know about the quest for glory, would he?" Tyrus said casually, and for a moment, he held the gaze of the Corellian man. The tension broke as the former rogue field marshal took another sip from his glass of wine, clasping a hand on Danik's shoulder. "You know I admire you, Danik. That is the only reason I did not take poison when Sekirol's regime was falling apart around me." He shook his head, his eyes returning to regard the battle below. Curious, he thought, war - so brutal, and yet, so elegant. Almost a ballet of wits and ability. "As for myself. Yes, a little glory would not hurt, here and there." Smiling warmly, he let go of the man's shoulder, letting the music fill his mind as he observed the violence. Setting down his now-empty glass, he straightened his posture.

The heavy guns no longer have bomber targets, and they are unable to assist in the ground war, so they turn the surface-to-air ranged beams on and begin firing wide, spreading laser shots up into the fleeing bombers and even out into space, the powerful generators working hard to keep the extremely slow blasts coming steadily and all the way up into space. The ground battle for the Sullustans is very different, however. The smaller warriors are largely able to scale their way up on the wreckage from the explosions and begin setting snipers into place to shoot at the storm troopers from the bowl of the U. Meanwhile the infantry units are positioned on either sides of the opening, the speeder with the Captain in it nearby. As the Imperial troopers begin tearing out of the debris, the gunfire suddenly is set off, including from the speeder's mounted carbine, and even the Captain levels his weapon and fires over the shoulders of his men. "FIRE!" he shouts, though it's too late for such orders to be needed anyways.

TK-2501 holds up a hand, gestures to his men giving cover, and then ducks and sprints for concealment as the forward troops who have reached cover bring up their guns and offer suppressing fire. One of the troops at his side stumbles and clatters to the ground, helmet blown off by a sniper, and TK-2501 brings up his heavy blaster and sprays a burst back in the direction of the shot. A Sullustan sniper tumbles from his high perch with a piercing, curiously familiar scream. "Come back, Legion Command, I did not copy that!" TK-2501 snaps as he dives into the cover of a smashed anti-aircraft turbolaser.

"...and destroy the power generators located in the engineering sublevel B to simultaneously disable all starport defenses. Facility plans will be transmitted from Intel upon your confirmation." hisses his radio.

"Roger that, Legion," replies TK-2501. "I confirm. Begin transmission."

All the stormtroopers recieve the familiar triple-beep of an incoming HUD update, and then their suit computers begin to rapidly throw up a golden wireframe over their vision, depicting the interior of the facility, its chambers and rooms and winding corridors, and glowing at the bottom, their target, the power generators. Arrows flow outwards over this diagram, softly pulsing to show the Stormtroopers the way.

"Men, we have received our directive update. Squads one through three, hold your positions and prepare a defense. Squads four, five and six, reform on me." He looks over his shoulder. "TK-2503, you have your detonator? Blow an opening down to the sublevel for us." TK-2501 switches his ST-II to autofire, points it down and away from his face, and drills a molten hole into the deck of the spaceport for a blasting charge to be inserted.

"I copy, TK-2501," responds 2503, after only an instant's hesitation, one he'll be hasty to blame on instrument error later, should her survive. "Using detonator as ordered." He scampers back through the storm of fire to where his leader is, counts down using his raised fingers, and then there's the announcement ,"Fire in the hole!" as the charges erupts in an incandescent flash.

Stormtroopers dive for cover. A deep rumble and a blaze of incandescent, radioactive fire shoots up in a pillar from the blasting zone, and when it clears, a hole forty feet across is blasted in the deck, revealing the sublevel chambers below. "Squads with me, move in before it cools! Squads on defense, don't let anyone follow us!" He hooks his monoline to the semi-molten edge of the deck and rappels down into the hole, hitting the floor of the sublevel in a crouch with a clacking of composite armor.

Keeping her lanky body behind one of the multitude of earthworks recently thrown up into place, Snarl shifts her position now and then rather than allow her position to be easily discovered. The Sullustan general's glance is noted, however, and the Horansi's unblinking golden eyes meet his for a moment before she merely nods.

Speaking into her headset again, Snarl says, "I want a few of you marksmen to enter the building and set up good sniping points. Take a few of the Sullustans with you if they're willing. Should the power be knocked out, they will still be able to target. If the Imperials break through our defense somehow, you know what to do." That said, she waves a paw at a moderate-sized contingent and indicates that they should also move to interfere with the Walkers. As the Sullustan General pulls his blaster and begins firing, the Horansi unleashes her A280 on the Imperials to begin with, picking off the clearest targets she can find.

Legionnaire Savage ignores the pompous ramblings of the self proclaimed Duke, knowing full well the incompetant Officer knows nothing of the situation. His own Platoon chugs along steadily, ducking into doorways and moving from cover to cover, still not recieving any aimed fire as of yet as the factory looms up into view. He calls a halt, ordering his Platoon to consolidate along the sides of the street. On cue, the Troopers from one side sprint to the other, one after another, as if still in the training grounds. His platoon now on the same page per se, The Legionnaire kicks in the nearest door, shoving his way into the building. One after another his Platoon files in behind, kicking in doors as they clear the building, moving towards the Factory using the houses and shops as cover. Eventually the Troopers come to the final building before the Factory. "Alpha team take the second floor, Bravo take ground floor, Light'em up" He orders crisply, the Stormtroopers taking positions at the windows, poking lethal ST-II blasters and grenade launchers out the windows, opening up a hail of lethal blasterfire at the Republic troops foolishly deployed in the open courtyard. Direct covering fire laid, The looming Royal Guardsman leads the remaining teams across the short gap between the building and the gate of the Factory. Shaped charges are afixed to the wall, the Troopers spreading out to blast holes in the wall, giving them better access than funneling through one gate. The Legionnaire carefully peers through one smoking hole, gauging the contents of the Courtyard, the sounds of Grenades whirling into the courtyard and withering blasterfire echoing in the background amid the sounds of Stormtroopers giving reports and target information over the internal communication nets.

It only takes Cadet Krieger a moment to get a general awareness of his position and the battlefield. Outnumbered? Outgunned? Outstanding. His time at Officer Candidate School would surely pay off here. He wrestles the nearest newly minted PFC to cover. "Where is your commanding officer?" %r "Dead, sir!", the enlisted man replies. "You're the first officer I've seen since he bought the farm!" %r Well, perhaps OCS would be paying off more than he expected tonight. "Allright you jarheads, square yourselves away, and follow me!" Krieger rushes around the debris with his newly inherited platoon, pausing momentarily to allow them to lay down fire on the advancing stormtroopers. They are headed to the very tip of the U, to the center of the fight.

From the ground the advance doubtlessly looks terrifying, but only a bird's eye view can truly give an idea of how horrific the display truly is. And this is all the more true in places with little to no support, such as the attack on the industial complex, with very little armor support given. Perhaps the overwhelming logistical issue that the attack entails is to blame, or perhaps an all out armored offensive had been judged as too risky by the Generals, given the peculiar nature of the.

Regardless of whatever the true explanation is, the weight of being in charge of a lone walker for an entire area comes down hard upon Perem's shoulders. Even after the shooting starts, it takes him a moment to register the threat; even safely within the armored confines of AT1236, the threat to the four-man group is very real, and to the men outside that's all the more true, but such things are hardly considered acceptable concerns by established Imperial doctrine.

Still, the recovery doesn't take anywhere near as long as it might. "Designate.. Zero-Decimal-One-Nine, full barrage", the Lieutenant states matter of factly as training takes over, punching in the appropriate commands to feed specific target data over to both gunners. And as the walker opens fire, at least now the Imperial attack would have support, if not the air support that would make this operation go so much more smoothly.

Aboard the HIMS Selene, Gen. Morrison Van Sen stands in the tactical control deck watching the invasion progress on the massive TacCOM holocom display. A cigar dangles between his teeth as he watches the different units move along the surface. Some find heavy resistance others not. "How are casualties at this point?" he asks one of his staff flunkies. "Sir, initial estimate is at projected levels." Van Sen nods and then looks to the Storm Trooper taccom display. "Have 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 500 Brigade ready to follow the 3d Battalion in. Once we get the word from the field commander, have 3d's transports head to the LZ."

The gunfire continues around the opening of the U, the furthest point from the generators, and finally the snipers pick up on the fellows trying to use the back-door hatches to get around the debris. Immediately one of them radios commander and almost as immediately as it happens, a small squad of Sullustans slip over the debris and run down towards the opening, a specialist teams that quickly takes out two dozen of the men out before they knew what hit them. They tear full throttle on their little legs towards the opening that was blown open, now in a race to catch up with the Imperial forces that forced their way under.

Krieger halts suddenly, causing the platoon's Gunnery Sergeant to nearly run right over him. Wilhelm is a Combat Engineer, and he knows that sound well. That wasn't artillery, and that wasn't a defense cannon. The rumble is almost second nature to him. He takes a risk and leans over the rubble pile and scans the battlefield with his field glasses. Sure enough, there it is. The developing dust cloud tells him all he needs to know. %r "Those damned Impies are blowing their way around us! Gunny, run over to that AA Gun. Tell their crew to wheel that thing up onto the top of the perimiter of the debris line, so that their piece is on an angle to fire on that platoon of Storm Troopers and can cover us!" He grabs the Gunnery Sergeant by the arm and pulls him over to the top, pointing to the Storm Troopers surrounding the newly blasted hole, their white, shined armor making them quite an artilleryman's target here on the dark mining world of Sullust. %r"Aye aye, sir! Haas, Kremmel, on me!" The three enlisted men make their way to the nearest New Republic gun crew, and Cadet Krieger lies in wait.

"Oh, *bleep*" comments 2503, even as he sets up his own grappling hook to abseil down into the hole. "Man, we just ticked off all the rebels. Lookit that, sir?" He's paused, crouched, lifting one gauntleted hand to indicate the Rebel artillery slowly cyling its barrel down to aim at the squad. "They're starting to aim the big guns...."

The members of the 500 Brigade's 3rd Battalion sit quietly in their landing craft. Sweat trickles down the faces of many of the greener troops as they circle in space waiting for word from high command to enter the fray. "Commander, make sure each man has their thermal charges. Once we sit down I want the engineers sealing every damned hole they come accross, except those marked on the maps. We'll make those little rats dig to fight us." a CO says in landing craft 989D. "Roger that sir." In the Taccom, Gen. Van Sen watches and waits patienty. "Send the transports down to pick up what's left of Alpha Company 3/11."

The "HIMS Selene" was now passing over the industrial sector of Sullust. It was a rather wonderful scene, really, watching the lone destroyer float over the battlefield in all its glory, its guns silent as the commanders inside strategized, coordinated and watched the battle progressed across Sullust on their screens. Its reserve fighter units were ready to deploy at any time if the need for close-air support arose, but so far they had not been called in. Danik watched as his viewport was filled with the scene of the industrial area, explosions erupting down below and the lives of many ended. Now a new song had come up on his music player, this time opera from Chandrila, which happened to be a personal favorite of Kreldin. He was an old fashion guy, after all. "Me? Glory hog? Nah.. I mean, at least I don't try to be one," Danik said, taking another sip of his wine. "So what's your assestment of the situation, field marshal, in your professional opinion?" he asked, grinning as his eyes diverted to the a display screen that showed an enhanced vision of the battle taking place on the ground. "They have a lot of willpower, I'll give them that..." Danik noted, letting it trail off as he watched the rebel resistance continue.

TK-2501, on Sublevel A, pauses as Stormtroopers fan out through the tunnels towards the turbolifts to the next sublevel, blasting their way through technicians and spaceport employees as they go. "Squad two, deploy canister launchers. Make your targets 2503's marks."

Several Stormtroopers from the surface squads break off and settle down behind the cover of wreckage, their HUDs interfacing and duplicating what 2503 sees. They quickly unlimber their secondary weapons, prop them on the ground like mortars, and fire.

Long distance to Enb'Zik and Maethor: Danik figures we can hold the explosive planting off for a bit, and work towards getting there.
 * poomp, poomp, poomp* Hissing canisters arc through the air leaving smokey tails like comets, and clatter to the ground around the defensive guns the rebel troops have taken. *BWAM* A second passes before the canisters burst, lethal orange gas billowing out of them in a baleful cloud.

The battle begins to rage, growing louder and louder, somewhat beyond the threshold of comfort for Sullustan ears. Reaching up with his right hand very briefly, Unnh adjusts a control that filters out excessive background noise, and while he does, his eyes fall on Savage's approaching group of Stormtroopers. "dzhat wub" he directs, "fwzah kezd nhzang tlk akkkhaal oownga itchu Dzhy mann kezd mann"

Gritting his teeth the General takes aim and begins shooting at the closest troopers from Maethor's batallion. To one Stormtrooper's immediate left, a wall explodes into stone fragments as a shot misses by less than a quarter of a meter. Unnh is already on to the next target, his blaster warming with the exertion of discharge after discharge.

Voices are one factor that the officer's earpieces do not filter out, and among those are the sounds of his comrades dying. Nearby, several Sullustans have already fallen, and the living step over bodies as they fight. (speaking in Sullustese)

The former officer snorted derisively, his cold eyes observing the carnage beneath them. As the opera built in intensity, falsetto and baritone weaving a story of love and betrayal, Tyrus let it swirl through his mind, a symphonic soundtrack to the forge of battle. As the muffled sounds of explosions and gunfire reached their ears, his smile deepened, and he turned to the former Imperial admiral. "In my opinion, we shouldn't be down there. We should have destroyed their will from space - broken their morale before any soldier of the Empire set his feet on his forsaken world," he said, shaking his head sorrowfully. As an orderly refilled his glass, he took it in one hand, sipping distractedly. "It's a pity so many men have to die."

"'Hooah!", the Marines chant as the gun gets into place and can open up on the Storm Troopers. "Covering fire!", Krieger screams, and the Marines line up around the gun crew, sending sheets of blaster rifle fire down onto the Stormtroopers. "Prepare to go over the top! Squad leaders, get your men ready!" The Gunny slams down onto the deck next to Krieger, gripping his rifle. "We'll drive 'em back into space for you, sir. There won't be a single one of those bowl helmeted drones left alive on Sullust by the time the Marines are through with them." Wilhelm simply nods, knowing just as well as the Gunny that his platoon could be chewed up just as easily if that gun crew doesn't do their job. "Over the top!", he screams. With that, yelling and with adrenaline pumping through their veins under the cover of the AA piece. The hissing sound of gas makes his heart beat even harder. But stopping his platoon now would leave them exposed to whatever it was hissing out of those canisters. He only hoped the gun crew could either avoid it or don protective gear in time. Marines fall when cover is sparse during the advance, but it is better than hanging back with the gas.

A large explosion erupts near the Sullustan troops as the speeder holding the Captain is hit and runs into a wall, but the Captain is fast and knows what he's doing, diving out to save himself just in time. He immediately picks up a slugthrower shotgun and checks it before firing at a nearby Imperial trooper, taking the guy's head clean off before pumping it. "Thank god whoever owned this thing had it loaded." he says after the near call. The Captain then checks around himself to see if anything specific needs to be done before turning and charging over towards the fray.

"Oh, for pity's sake," complains 2503, even as he crouches to return fire on the wave of Rebel Marines charging towards them ."They never do know when to give up, do they?" "Watch 'em run like womprats," jeers one of his compatriots, before leaping down into the hole. "Like womprats right towards us - give 'em credit for courage, at least, " shoots back 2503, even as he's knocked back by a glancing round - chestplate scored, but no real damage to the human within it. A moment of confusion, before he wonders, "How's it going down there?"

TK-2618 spins backwards, caught in the neck by a blaster bolt from Krieger's advancing men. TK-2591, beside him, calls through his radio, "Canisters deployed, sir! But they're coming on hard!" He picks off a charging marine with his blaster and takes a hit in the shoulder for his troubles. "Request order update, sir!"

TK-2501, below, kicks open a door and blasts a Sullustan, then ducks back around the frame as the other commandos return fire. "First squad, prepare detonators and charge!" orders TK-2501. "Second squad, cover first squad. TK-2503, paint first squad for an airstrike. Call the airstrike immediately if the first squad fails to stop the advance!"

Legionnaire Savage rests his back against the protective concrete wall, grinning broadly beneath his red helmet. The Stormtroopers fumble in their packs for tear gas and smoke grenades, pulling the pins and hurling them through the ragged openings in the wall. Time slows for the young men, each gripping their Carbines with determination as the gas fizzles and flows from the canisters, filling the courtyard with a dusty haze, anyone not wearing a rebreather beginning to feel as if they can't breathe, their eyes watering and stinging. The Stormtroopers are unaffected, their helmets automatically clicking over to Infra-red mode, casting their world into an electronic reddish green haze. Silently they plunge through the gaps, thundering into the smokey atmosphere as they take up positions as best they can, leveling their laser-guided carbines at the enemy and opening fire.

Gen. Van Sen was getting impatient now. There comes a time in every battle where a commander must make a decision that goes against the plan. "Open a com to Navy Command," he orders. Looking to the large screen to his right, he says, "Admiral Stone, I need a couple of your gunships to support the landing of the follow on force. The first wave appears to be bogging down. We've got to get that landing zone opened up." He looks to the Taccom and says, "Major Cyphrus, inform your men that they're going into a hot LZ." Maj. Cyphrus confirms, "Roger that sir. Captain Lucius, your AT-STs will be landing hot."

The special ops group tears into the few remaining troops topside above the smoking hole, and immediately they go into action. The first few check the hole and fire into it randomly before hopping down into it as well, the first five of six simply being taken apart by the rear Imperial forces before one gets a foothold and begins returning fire down the underground hallway, and quickly the rest of the small team drops down behind him, ready to charge after the Imperials.

A pall of smoke rises high over the spaceport. Several dropships, which were damaged too badly to dust off after the drop, stand or lie around the smoldering, bomb-scorched tarmac. Three of the anti-aircraft turbolasers have been captured and destroyed by Stormtroopers, the others still active and nominally under Rebel control. Deadly gas has been deployed and is drifting over the battlefield, billowing out from the vicinity of two of the turbolasers. Near the captured guns, a forty-foot hole blown in the tarmac reveals the sublevel below, and stormtroopers continue to drop down into the underground and move through the tunnels towards the power generators. Meanwhile, Sullustan commandos are moving to intercept them, and Rebel marines are making a charge to take the insertion point.

Krieger raises a fist, and the the platoon of Marines instinctively stops and finds cover. It was instinctive for a reason. Endless drill and repitition, and a few helpful words from a Drill Instructor would do that to a person. What it created was a lethal fighting force. He was in the moment now. The terrain was ripe. The enemy wasn't advancing anymore, he was. He had the initiative, and it was time to use it. No, he wouldn't overwhelm the enemy yet, but he was sure to disrupt them. He was sure nothing would help them once he had the numbers he need it. "Squad leaders, displace! Scatter into the enemy's rear using the debris and give 'em hell!" They undoubtedly knew what that meant. The clanking sound of Marines fixing their vibroblades to their rifles in anticipation of close quarters combat always sent a chill down his spine, and did so to even more of an extent here on the battlefield. Quietly and under cover, the Marines disperse into squads to police up small bands of enemies. They will be clearing trenches today. Krieger, his First Sergeant, and his runner remain in the general center of what is no longer a formation. "Globe to Eagle, we are entering the enemy's perimeter now. Request reserve units be deployed immediately, or we will only be effective as a harassing force. Over."

TK-2501 stands well back from the door as troopers and Sullustans trade blasts through it. "TK-2503, call the airstrike on your own position to exterminate the rebel marine advance and lead your squad into the underground at best possible speed. We are proceeding to the generators. You will cover our rear in case any of the rebels on the surface survive the airstrike."

What Snarl might miss with her own eyes, she is quickly appraised of through her headset. The Horansi nods with a slight frown as someone inside the complex makes a report. Opening the channel, the Major growls, "They are entering via the more distance places of business. The snipers are engaging them, but if Squad Mepfer will please provide back up. Use grenades if you must, but only in desparation. Sniping is best inside." In response to her command, a group of NR Marines quickly duck inside and then dispurse to various locations within the complex. The Imperials inside are likely to be finding it a bit hot in there about now. From the outside, the sound of breaking glass is faintly audible over concussions and the whine of blasters as shots from within both hit and miss their targets.

Meanwhile, Snarl herself refocuses on the battle in the courtyard area. So far the Rebels have kept the vast majority of the Imperials out of the buildings, and those that have gotten inside probably have their hands full. As canisters fall onto the courtyard and release some sort of gas, Snarl actually laughs and shakes her head. The atmosphere of Sullust is poisonous. Anyone not wearing environmental gear and an air filter would already have dropped dead by now. All the gas does is perhaps create hazy clouds of smoke here and there which provide cover for both sides to utilize. Wearing an unholy grin, the Horansi takes a few specifically aimmed shots at the Imperial troopers unlucky enough to be caught tossing the smoke bombs and then her weapon shifts down to target the Troopers charging into the courtyard.

"Adjust to Zero-Decimal-One-Three", Perem orders after the AT-AT has taken a series of additional steps, raising his voice to keep his instructions clear and concise amid the sound of heavy blaster fire arcing out in a brilliant rain towards enemy positions. And though a part of him knows that coming any closer than one hundred meters is quite a risky proposition even for a titan of AT1236's calibre, the armor commander says nothing to the driver for the moment, instead setting up a communique to the powers that be.

"Selene, this is Three-Six, requesting immediate fire support missions by any means available. Encountering moderate to heavy resistance", Perem barks. He'd already seen much too many Imperials dead for anything to make sense anymore, but that hardly meant that the infantry had to suffer as a result. Even Perem could see that one factory is hardly worth this many lives. "We can rebuild it..", he whispers, awaiting a response, "We have the technology."

The call for assistance from the stormtroopers and by van Sen was received by the Navy, and it wasn't long before the reserve units that were stationed aboard the "HIMS Selene" were quickly deployed, two squadrons of TIE Interceptors. Since the Selene was no longer directly above the starport, the fighters took a litle longer to reach the starport. The two squadrons were old designs, Mark I interceptors, and thus were far more vulnerable to anti-air flak than the previous air attack. Nevertheless, the interceptors swooped in, diving for the ground and opening fire with their fire-linked laser cannons on the rebel troops below. They probably weren't going to kill many troops, but the point was to scatter them and sow confusion, and relieve pressure off the stormtroopers already down there. But the attack was not done without casaulties, either

"Oh, boy," mutters 2503. Using his helmet HUD, he transmits the co-ordinates to the force in the air above, "Sir, yes, sir. ......I think that's not gonna be muchof an option. They just pulped the Interceptors." Even as he speaks, he's waving his men into the ground, first squad retreating back, firing as they move. "Everyone, down the rat hole. Time to pretend we're ferrets," With that, he slips down his own line, into the farkness below.

The Stormtrooper commander jerks a thumb towards the door. "TK-2630, your detonator."

One of the troopers detaches his thermal detonator and slings it into the room where the Sullustans have prepared their defense. "Fire in the hole!" The troopers spin back from the door, holding down their helmets as a solid wall of radioactive fire blazes out of the door.

"Advance and clear!" orders TK-2501, and fourth squad clatters into the steaming room, running over smoking Sullustan skeletons into the corridor beyond in pursuit of those few commandos who escaped the blast. "Legion Command and IGF Liason, we have broken the defenses in the sublevel," TK-2501 reports to his leaders. "The generator will be down shortly. You may begin your landing."

The Sullustans are used to chaos on their volcano planet, and even their military forces react with pizzazz to the random shots from the interceptors. The groups spread out significantly around the bottle-nose of the giant U, and make it even harder for the Imperial troops coming out of it to hit any of the lightly armed Sullustans. The Captain is in the middle of the fray, leveling his shotgun at one after another trooper as they emerge. "Damnit, they just keep coming!" he shouts as he rolls down and around a piece of one of the exploded dropships to toss his empty shotgun away and pick up a blaster pistol.

Meanwhile, the Sullustan special ops charge in all the harder, whittled down to a mere 15 men against 30, but their special training kicks into high gear and they take some mean shots at the 2500 Imperial squad.

The dozen four man squads move quickly through the debris, aiming at breaking up the Stormtrooper's cohesion and to make the Imperial landing zone itself the battlefield. With the Marines entrenched in the enemies perimeter and harassing squads of Stormtroopers from the flank using cover, Krieger would think them stupid to call in air strikes on their own positions--but, to his astonishment, they came. He didn't know how bad the damage would be, but he was sure that the Imperials would suffer worse. He knew what friendly fire could do to morale. As the TIEs strafe, Krieger's runner is cleanly vaporized right before his own eyes from a lucky hit by an Imperial pilot. One minute the man was there, the next, he was gone and the area around him steaming with heat. Nothing he could do for him now. He checks once more on the situation of his reinforcements. For now, he would have to be content with keeping the Imperials in check.

"Force," Morrison mutters as he sees the Navy Air support shot to pieces. "I'm not sending a Battalion into that meat grinder without some damned fire support." He curses and looks at the Taccom as the STs on the surface continue to getting picked off one by one. He slams a fist into the counter top by his control panel and says, "Someone get on the horn and find out how 3/11 is doing inside the planet. We've got to have those guns down before ...." TK-2501's call comes right in time. Relief washes over the large Kallan General. "Send a confirmation to the IGF liason and give the go-signal for the landing." Immediately, transports containing At-STs of the 243rd Armored Company begin heading into the atmosphere and toward the main crater. "Have them hold off until the STs give the final Ok."

Having taken the offensive in the sublevel, Fourth Squad moves swiftly now, and with few casualties. A group of Sullustans, eyes hard and trigger fingers itching, gather at the turbolifts outside the generator room to stop the stormtroopers from taking Sublevel B. The turbolift level ticks down. 02. 01. 00. A. B. It stops with a soft chime and opens, and blaster fire roars as the Sullustans fill it with holes. No stormtrooper bodies fall, however- the elevator was empty. A door opens on the roof of the elevator and something small, hard and white falls in with a clack, rolls out of the elevator. The Sullustan ambush group dives for cover and are incinerated where they stand by the detonator exploding. Moments later the roof of the elevator tears open, sawed apart by heavy blaster fire, and stormtroopers begin dropping into it, rappelling down the shaft.

Fourth Squad swarms through into the generator room, several of them tumbling into the bottomless air shaft as hidden riflemen in the vast generator chamber open up on the door, but these in turn recieve similar treatment when more Stormtroopers continue to tromp in behind.

As they spread out and offer suppressing fire, four of their dwindling number affix detonators to the generator. "Ready to blow out the cake, sir," reports TK-2527.

"Make it happen," orders TK-2501. Fourth Squad set the timers and hustle back out of the generator room just before it implodes.

All the lights in the spaceport wink out at once, the guns fall silent, the whole complex goes cold in an instant.

The all-hands alert pops up into view and throws Krieger's aim off, causing him to jerk the trigger back with a start. Well, that Storm Trooper would live for a few more moments. His reinforcements were arriving--and so were more Imperials. Apparently, they were sending in the next wave. The report noted multiple transport-sized contacts entering the atmosphere from space and coming his way. Well, he'd give them a welcoming, allright. His reinforcements seem to be whatever the big brass could throw at him. The rest of the Marine Company he had been assigned to only yesterday, some Army regular stragglers, even a few cooks and logistics men given rifles and thrown out into the fight. "Platoon leaders, we are currently in the center of a U shaped perimeter. The we have begun to meet the enemy on his flanks. More are coming. I expect you to give them the same kind of greeting. I want this perimeter encircled, and I want it done yesterday. Nothing gets out alive. Move!"

There's a few ragged cheers along the ST comlinks. "Well, party's over," announces 2503, cheerfully. "Now we gotta hold on 'til them lazy IGF bastards condescend to join the dance. Nicely done."  Hawke has disconnected.

As smoke begins filling his vicinity, General Unnh coughs twice, his eyes watering before he readjusts his rebreather and pulls goggles down over his eyes. Sullustans have unbelievable night vision, able to see as clear as day (albeit without color) even in absolute blackout. They cannot, however, see through smoke. The infrared capabilities in the goggles takes care of that, transforming the body heat of troopers into readable images. The REAL question is - will the storm troopers know how to read those images when they're washed out by the already tremendous heat of the planet itself? Or will hot bodies simply disappear against a backdrop of hot rocks and molten lava?

Holstering his hand cannon, Unnh pulls up a heavier weapon - a wickedly strong bi-polar carbine. Taking aim at a doorway sheltering a trio of Stormtroopers, the Sullustan squeezes the trigger. Both barrels flash simultaneously, blasting out a spinning projectile that slams into the duracrete structure and adding billions of fine particles to the unbreatheable mixture in their vicinity as the wall all but disintegrates.

At the same time, his order filters through the ranks, and grenades begin flying over the top of the wall as the Sullustan forces toss the explosives toward buildings with the highest concentrations of Imperials. "hypoona Dzhmbd oozik" Unnh yells into his comlink, looking up toward the Imperial scout ship and half raising his Carbine in the vessel's direction as he checks the weapon's charge. (speaking in Sullustese)

Van Sen sees the change on the Taccom and says, "Green light the landing force."

In the sky above the battle zone, six heavy landing craft begin their descent...once they're 500 feet from the ground, chaff-filled smoke grenades begin ejecting from launchers along their under belly. The grenades fall like deadly rain trailing white clouds...the landing craft descend into the crowd even while they begin taking ground fire from the Sullustans. One landing craft is peppered and turned into swiss cheese, but the Animal-like AT-ST it carries is dropped just fine. The cloud of chaff-filled smoke covers a good kilometere or two of the landing zone, joining the smoke and fire already blazing there. Out walks six AT-STs, their guns searching for targets. Twin laser canons and repeaters mounted on their side-hulls begin pouring death toward the unlucky Sullustans. The walkers begin walking a consentric circle around what is obviously the new LZ. In the dark above more landing craft twinkle into view even as those remaining on the ground lift off and head home.

The heavily damaged landing craft joins the other detritus of the battlefield as its crew takes cover in the garbage and debris around the ship. Onboard the floating fortress high in the stratosphere, it was practiced chaos. "Roger that, SL-Three-Six. This is HIMS Selene, stand by for fire support," a communications operator relayed to the Imperial forces below, as the coordinates were cycled to gunnery stations all around the bridge and those emplacements studding the hull of the behemoth battleship. "Suggest friendlies clear the fire area, Three-Six. HIMS Selene out," were the last words uttered over the comms before a veritable firestorm of artillery was loosed on the rebel emplacements below. Since most of the concussion missile tubes were mounted on the top of the ship, their trajectories had to be precisely input, and even then, it was difficult for them to hit specific targets below them. In defeaning whumps, dozens of missile tubes and batteries opened up on the area below the Victory Star Destroyer, an apocalyptic hail meant to obliterate as much resistance as possible. As their fire was poured down onto Sullust in one sustained volley, hitting machine shops, lancing through windows and destroying equipment, and generally wreaking havoc in the area, it did not take long for the strike to end, and the massive guns were soon silent, leaving the previous sounds of combat to seem weak and distant in comparison.

Now with enough weight behind them, the Marines can do more than harass. They can assault. The Marines previously engaged hold their positions and allow the reserves to come up. Using fire and assault tactics, they advance into enemy Storm Trooper positions and begin forming a solid perimeter around the landing pad. When the Imperials make their second landing, they will find their landing zone infested with heavy armed, well hidden Marines who have no intention of going anywhere any time soon. If the Imperials want this starport, it won't come cheap. Krieger and his staff squad, complete with a new runner, make their way into one of more elegant holes in the ground to oversee the resistance from there.

The Sullustan special ops team is fast, despite their stature, and their shots are steady. Laser blasts are aimed to kill, and by the time the last of the 15 of them gets into the room, the entire fourth squad is lying dead. "Crap! There are more coming after us!" the last guy shouts, and the special ops immediately begins taking their places to prepare to try and retaliate the fifth squad, behind them. Meanwhile, on the surface, the Captain has been reduced to a holdout pistol, and is walking evenly through the middle of the U, leveling the tiny pistol at nearby troopers, his shot clean as he wades through, the Sullustan infantry helping him to clear as much of the Imperial troops away. He even runs up to the dropships, the holdout leveled on it, ready for the next wave of troops. But not ready for the AT-ST that emerges. The Captain stares up at it for long enough to realize that this is, in fact, the end of him.

The battle of the starport is quickly cut short. The anti-air guns disabled now, no resistance can come to the larger ships delivering the tanks, AT-STs, and AT-ATs. The troops on the ground are not set up with vehicles to repel those delivered by the dropships. Underground, it is just a matter of times before the special ops team is killed off, even if it is at heavy cost to the Imperials.

The Fifth Squad comes in behind the commandos who did for Fourth Squad, and the fighting is close, quick, and brutal, even more so when Sixth Squad arrives under TK-2503. When the screaming has stopped and the smoke is cleared, TK-2501 nods to TK-2503's salute. "We will make our defense here and await relief from the Army."

Combat engineers are quick to seal doors and prepare defenses.

TK-2501 listens to his helmet radio as the Army moves in and crushes the straggling Rebel defense in the typical overkill. "Sounds like shop's closing up, gentlemen. Army's going to be moving out from the spaceport into the city. You did good work today. Hail, the victorious dead!"

"HAIL, THE VICTORIOUS DEAD!" chorus the two and a half remaining squads out of six.

Danik rarely, if ever, smoked. But today he made an exception. Lighting the cigar, Danik put it to his mouth. He crossed his arms across his chest and stepped closer to the view port. "I know, I've said that. Apparently not many people care for the common soldier anymore," Danik said to Valtoor, sighing. Then, the deafening roar of the fire support from the Selene itself overwhelmed the Chandrilian opera, and Danik frowned as he watched new explosions erupt on the surface below, coming in from the guns on the Selene. "That can't be good.. they must be getting desparate. Heavy chance of friendly fire," Danik said, shaking his head. "Poor guys."

The AT-ST seems to hesitate briefly before riddling the special forces captain with countless blaster bolts tear his body to shreds. The walker then adds insult to injury the walker steps on his body squishing it into a meaty, putty consistancy. The walkers continue their wake of killing, hunting down the NR troopers at will. Death reigns for those foolish enough to stand against the vehicles without anti-armor weapons...but fortune does smile upon the Sullustans, one of the walkers tumbles into a crater rent in the floor and jams its walking legs inside....the vehicle is effectively knocked out..even as the crew tries to bug out. The unlucky pilot and gunner are shreadded by small arms fire from the remaning rebels in the area. Behind the walkers several landing craft touch down divulging the men of the IGF 500 Brigade...their heavily armored bodies move into the rubble to mop up the final resistance.

Cadet Wilhelm Krieger stands over the bodies of two Imperial Army crewmen from their collapsed vehicle, his rifle barrel smoking from use. He wouldn't begrudge his men for not taking prisoners today. The Sullustians had put up a good fight, but with no real armor support, the risk of being cut off by the enemy was too high. Wilhelm puts out an all-hands alert to withdraw along the U perimeter into the city.

Valtoor did not smoke, either, but he did drink. As he sipped at his glass of wine, he swirled it thoughtfully, missiles flashing past the transparisteel screen as they swept on their down to destruction. "Tragic, really," he said in response to Danik's sentiments. "I don't know how much longer the rebels can hold out, though," he said, his voice softening. In his business, it was easier to be callous than compassionate, but in truth, he cared very much for the average soldier, the common man. He took a step closer to the viewport, watching the heady violence with a sense of satisfaction. "It can't be much longer, no. Not at this rate," Tyrus said, glancing at Danik. "Tell me, Danik. If you want to take and hold Sullust, it is going to be bloody. Very, very bloody. The populace will not give up easily." He took another sip from his glass, meeting the Corellian's eyes. "Tell me, my dear Danik... are you prepared to go all the way with this?"

The scattered Sullstan forces are not easy to pick off with the large AT-STs, and the word has gone out from command anyways to retreat. The Republic support soldiers scatter as well, heading in all sorts of directions as they retreat to pre-determined second defenses.

Choice words in Horansi filter through her troops' headsets as the Major notices a shift in the Star Destroyer's flight pattern. Most of them are well accustomed to Snarl's ways and are already diving for cover before the massive feline can take another breath and bark into her com "INCOMING!" That single word motivates everyone else to follow the NR troops in diving for whatever scraps of protection they can find, whether it be a large mound of large volcanic rock or a doorway. Despite the forwarning, the strifing does cause considerable damage in certain areas and even occasionally strikes a soldier from the Imperial side with its lack of specific aim.

When some of the dust and smoke clears, Snarl lifts her head just enough to gaze over the top of her chosen cover - a shallow hole in the ground (yes, it IS a bit too warm for comfort!) protected by volcanic rock and sheets of durasteel firmly set into the ground. A good spot, the Horansi notes to herself as she wipes a little blood away from a shallow gash in her right shoulder. Nothing serious. At least not yet. "Regroup!" she snaps into her com. "Finish that walker off if you can! Those of you inside, report!" "Those blasts actually did us a favor, Major," can a brief reply from one of the Lieutenants under Snarl's command. "Hit about a dozen of the Imps who were trying to sneak into the main complex." After a very brief pause, Snarl replies, "Excellent. Keep working to clear those buildings, Lieutenant. If we need you out here, I will let you know." Clicking her com off, she glances over with pity at a Sullustan who hadn't quite made it to join her in her protected ditch in time. Her only consolation is that Zik isn't in this fight, and the deceased is obviously not the Sullustan General she's working with. "Poor thing..." she sighs quietly before raising her A280 once again and resuming fire on the Imperial Troopers.

Amid the destruction that had ensued from the bombardment, Perem could only watch with awe and silently thank his lucky stars that AT1236 had escaped being utterly annihilated in the massive show of force. It had been close, though, and without orders the driver had ceased all movement. Indeed, even the gunners fell silent, realizing that little could possibly be added to such a display. The army lieutenant doesn't stand in awe for too long, however, before turning on his com once more, this time on a short-range frequency. "What's your status out there?", he asks, hardly caring that the rebels might be listening in. As far as he knew, after all, they had more important things to worry about, and with a bit of a guilty conscience to deal with, Perem had to know if any Imperials were left.

Amun Unnh's world erupts in the bright flashes of exploding torpedoes all around his position. The droptacs protecting his eyes from overexposure to light temporarily darken altogether, allowing him to see nothing at all. In spite of the measures keeping his eardrums from outright bursting, he finds his ears ringing when he can see again, but what he sees gives him an important piece to the puzzle. Putting his hand to a torn dewflap and taking it away bloody, he wipes the mess off on the leg of his uniform. The Imperials are refusing to bomb the facility. It will make a perfect place to fall back to. "Dzhng oownga dzeek nub moncho oownga nhzang bjcyk gngnohzh kweevek wikp nub um moncho ziy oozik lyhz ocho Dzhy kezd"

The entire plaza is a waste. Dozens of dead bodies lay smoldering atop ancient lava beds. Sullustans. Humans. Other species. New Republic. Empire. Death isn't picky.

Neither is geography. With a sudden, gut-wrenching lurch, the land heaves to one side. To the north, the terrain cracks open, and the world makes its volcanic moodiness well known as it begins to bleed a fresh river of bright, red-orange magma. Although the factory - and most buildings here - is constructed to withstand such upheavals relatively intact, the bombardment from above has set off a geological fit beneath the planet's too-thin crust. And for now, as Sullust issues its violent complaint against the assault, the battleground becomes too dangerous to fight upon.

"natchz moncho" the call is issued again, and as blaster fire erupts sporadically from those positions left in the Republic lines, those who can begin to make their way backward into the SoroSuub central offices. (speaking in Sullustese)

"Yes, yes, Valtoor. I am prepared to go -all the way-," Danik said, taking another draw from his cigar. Once committed, the Imperials could not back down. It would be a sign of weakness. Danik was confident the Imperials would achieve victory eventually, but he was concerned about the losses that he knew would accumulate. When the bombardment from the Selene ends, and the dust clears, the fighting is still continuing, despite the heavy destruction across the entire battle field, causing Imperial and rebel casaulties alike. Danik watches as the lava floods through the factory, cutting off the forces of both the Empire and the rebels. Sighing, Danik taps his transmitter and speaks into it. "This is Danik Kreldin; the starport and the tower have been seized successfully. The factories are still holding, and we have a new problem, as I'm sure you're aware. Dig in for now and get some rest. Re-organize and prepare for re-supply. We'll resume at a later date." With that, Danik cancelled his transmission and looked at Valtoor. "All the way, my dear field marshal."

The aging field marshal nodded, turning his full attention to Danik, oblivious to the geological chaos down below. "I'm glad you're willing to commit yourself to this, because it's the only way," he said, knowing that the experienced man knew what he was doing - still, there were no taking chances with victory. "Speaking of commitment.. I'm ready to commit myself to the Emperor and the New Order once again," he said, his expression blank but his voice hopeful as he spoke to the former admiral. "Where do I fit into all of this? I suspect you didn't bring me here just to tell you that I thought a full-on attack was foolish, because I suppose you know that." The HIMS Selene opened up with search lights, scouring the area below and providing illumination for the troops below. But with Kreldin's transmission, the search lights turned off, and soon the HIMS Selene was ascending towards the atmosphere, moving away from the battlefield below. Danik took a seat in his lounge, putting his cigar out as the opera reached a high note and, with a dramatic climax, ended.

At all that had happened, Perem could only shake his head and patiently wait for a relief force to take over AT1236's duties. It couldn't be too long, he tells himself, for with the factories as of yet unsecured, plenty of work still remained to be done. "Get some rest, people, I'll take the first watch," Perem then informs his crew, gazing out at the truly apocalyptic level of destruction still transpiring. Fight or no fight, for the army lieutenant, this would be a long night. Ridge enters the plaza from the checkpoint to the west.

At the same time the Sullustan General calls a retreat back into the complex, Snarl is also begrudingly postponing the battle until the planet itself settles back down. Mixing with the Sullustan fighters, everyone still standing flees back into the buildings behind to wait out the 'natural' disaster. Occasionally, now that fire has ceased from the opposition, someone still standing finds another soldier who is injured but still among the living and gives them a hand to safety. The New Republic Rebels will be camping inside tonight, it seems.

The next day...

Landing Platform -- Sullust

The primary landing platform is situated deep within the largest burned out volcano on the planet. Its massive size is over 10 square kilometers and the landing platform itself is a kilometer from the top of the mountain where the 3 kilometer-square magnetic shield keeps the atmosphere in. Ship technicians and repair crews work on several ships on the main platforms, but some captains choose to berth their ship in an enclosed, more private hangar dug into the side of the mountain. These separate hangars are typically the size of small freighters, but a dozen or so are large enough to park smaller capital ships. Dozens of hovertrams run back and forth across the platform to speed movement. The primary exit off the platform is to the east where visitors are ushered through a customs checkpoint. The spaceport is currently a shambles, with several platforms destroyed and large pieces of ship debris scattered about, occluding landing space.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Shau'ri => Rook => Snarl => Enb'Zik => Perem => Valtoor => Solon_Halwinder => VEHICLE: AT-AT Walker -- AT1208 => STARSHIP: Trianii RX4 Patrol Ship -- Regulator II => STARSHIP: SoroSuub 3000 Yacht -- Lady Luck => STARSHIP: MT/191 Dropship -- Gamma 2 => Inter-System Shuttle: Freedom => Repair Kit Dispensor => Shuttle Terminal Obvious exits: ast leads to Customs Concourse -- Sullust.

Far beneath the volcanic caldera that leads to the open night sky and poisonous atmosphere, bloody fighting has pushed Republic forces back, leaving the wasted bodies of Sullustans and humans and a half-dozen other races fallen like morbid rag dolls on the polished, obsidian deck. It is a disturbing juxtaposition of the aesthetic and the macabre. But finally, the battle seems nearly to be over. Imperial Stormtroopers and other ground forces mop up pockets of open resistance in the corridors leading out into the city proper of Piringiisi.

"Dzhmbd lubba lyhz oozik lyhz ghy modo modo oozik toppa zanhng wub waago dzhin" The words are whispered into a comlink by a Lieutenant Lubl Giun. One by one, clicks sound across the encoded Republic communications lines, and the male Sullustan nods. "dlee wub Dzhy natchz um Dzhy wikp wub nhzang dzhat kay kay Dzhng itchu Zhng dzhin lubba kay Dzhng dlee" Getting an affirmative response once again, Giun steels himself, then gives the signal.

Without warning, red shafts of light erupt from several spots high up in the cavernous walls of the landing bay. The Sullustan natives, intimately familiar with the dozens of tunnels criss-crossing the city, have retreated into them now to make their last stand in hopes of reclaiming their home before it's too late. Several Stormtroopers die quickly with scorched holes in their ceramic armor, others blasted aside by near misses. And that quickly, the starport is once again the scene of heated fighting. (speaking in Sullustese)

The "HIMS Selene" was the command ship for all ground operations on Sullust, coordinating all the divisions and units into one cohesive fighting force that had already dug itself in on the planet. The starport had fallen, along with the control tower, and Imperial and rebel forces were locked in a deadly battle for the industrial sector. The "Selene" flew close to the surface of the volcanic planet; not close enough to be hit by small arms fire, but closer than a Victory-class destroyer would normally get under these situations. In the heart of the destroyer, in the command center, stood several generals and Danik Kreldin himself, brooding over a tactical display of all of Sullust, all the units marked with various information posted. Danik had decided to take control of the campaign personally, growing tired of the incompetence of the generals; sure, he wasn't a general, but he had the power, and he felt he was in his right to do so. "Sir!" shouted a junior officer at one of the communication consoles. "Our units on the starport are reported large enemy movement. They've lost contact with their forward positions," the officer said, hastily and with a hint of nervousness in his voice. Danik took a look down at the display; the Imperial forces were drastically undermanned at the starport, with most of the forces sent out to fight in other areas. If the rebels were massing a large-scale attack on the starport, there was a serious chance they would lose the starport. "Move the "Selene" towards the starport. We need to hold the lines. Get me in contact with the commander at the starport!" Danik shouted, banging his fists on the desk.

With the combat well underway again, the deafening sounds of battle were rolling across the surface of Sullust, walkers and the infantry already on their way to the front lines. The bright flashes of war illuminating the darkened transparisteel viewshield of the Chariot Light Armored Vehicle that Tyrus Valtoor, former field marshal of the Imperial Hafan Army, gave the low-profiled craft away, silently skimming over the ground as the LAV traversed just behind the lines of battle, observing the action from a near distance. Though it was dark, that did not dampen the ferocity of the fighting, and it seemed as if the conflict would be at least as bloody as it had been earlier, during the landing.

The terse lines of Sullustan speech over the comlink are noted by more than one pair of ears, and more than one shape of ears, to boot. The earflaps of Corporal Linna MacCrae's helmet are squawking them into her ears even now. Not that she needs to hear them to know something's happening: those blasts, and everything that follows, tells the tale nicely. From her vantage point, the telescopic sight of her A-280 can pick out that those opening shots did their job. Those Sullustan sharpshooters know what they're doing. And so does she. Rifle braced, underbarrel grenade launcher loaded, reloads easy to hand... all she needs is the go-ahead. "Ready when you call the tune, Major. Looks like our friends have started the light refreshments."

Biting back a smile at this inopportune moment, Major Snal'Fashtalli responds via her comlink, "Well, we should not keep them waiting. Dish up a few spicy hot appetizers, Corporal." The Horansi looks over the beginnings of the combat and then adds, "That party of Stormies over to your right look like they are especially hungry."

With that said, the Horansi issues other target orders to various groups of New Republic marines, and the dark caverns of this cauldera starport begin to light up like the fourth of July. Here and there a grenade explodes, rattling walls and threatening to break those viewports that are actually still intact. Snarl herself takes a few shots with her A280, but here in the beginning she is acting more like a very busy traffic cop. She'll let herself become more involved soon, though.

Innoportune moment? Well, innoportune for /them/, at least, that is Major Vizjerei's opinion of the timing of this encounter. Issuing several orders to her squad through her comlink, Shau'ri adjusts the signal briefly to encompass the other officer's frequencies. "Party time, Snarl. Ready to join? I'll buy the whiskey afterwards..." says the part Cathari female, a smirk would be visible across her features if she were to take out her helmet, though, the irony loaded in her voice is sign enough. Explosions timed out at irregular intervals seems to mirror those started by the other squads, while some others move to vantage points in order to take out any approaching Stormtroopers on her call. Shau is already prepared, her A280 at the ready, and her vibroblade resting in its scabbard, itching to be put to use soon...'

"Lieutenant, Nep Group reports they've been cut off from their station! They can't reach the controls to engage their part of the operation!"

Giun's jaw drops in incredulity as he looks over his left shoulder at the Sullustan that delivers the report. "You've got to be kidding me," he deadpans. Hadn't they clicked in with the others? "What's their status?" he questions, "Can they hook back up?" The other soldier shakes his head, his dewflaps waving with the motion as he explains what's been told to him over the comms. And by the look on Giun's face, this is NOT a good thing. Pounding the wall beside him with the fleshy side of his fist, he swears. "What about the secondary control room? Can Sand Cat group get to that one to activate from there?"

"No, Sir," comes the answer, immediately drawing another look of irritation, "It will take too long. By the time they get there, it will be too late to set the trap. The only possibility is if they drop three levels directly by rappelling."

"Have them do it," Giun answers, then keys his communications mic, "Major Teague-Ikihsa, we've got a problem on our hands. I've got to move a group from level 5 down to level 2, and the only way for them to get where they need to be is by rope. They'll be open targets on the way down. I need firepower to cover them. Can you provide?"

It had been confirmed by all units on the starport; the rebels were coming, and in force. The explosions sent nearby Imperial troopers for cover, while others set themselves up in their hastily-put together "fortifications." All together, two hundred Imperial infantry, less than a hundred stormtroopers, and one AT-AT was all that the Imperials had on the starport surface, with any other support coming from the "HIMS Selene" and her weaponry and fighters. Danik and the generals assembled around the tactical display of the starport shook their heads. Danik had to admit, though, he was surprised by the rebel's willpower. None of the Imperials were expecting such a counter-attack so soon at the starport. The light defense force on the starport would have to hold out until the "HIMS Selene" could properly position itself above the starport, but it was distant, even for a destroyer.

Those shots look like they've been heard 'round the starport for certain: the Imperial forces here are trying to crawl back down their fortified ratholes. Linna adjusts her sights grimly. Well, dropping things down ratholes and over walls is what this gun-and-launcher combo was made for... In the space of two quick breaths two grenades are up and flying, arcing over the battlefield at two of those armored positions. Seconds later three more follow, less well-aimed in the general direction of two more positions and a slower-moving squad of Stormtroopers, intended more to cause chaos than to do damage, though Linna wouldn't mind the latter. She slips five more grenades from her belt pouch and begins slipping them into the launcher. Gotta keep the hungry customers fed, after all. And now, bad news. "Major?" she asks quickly, aware that the officer near her has a much more complete mental picture of the battlefield than she does.

One ear twitches slightly as Shau'ri's voice comes over the com while the Horansi is engaged in targeting the head of a StormTrooper that's getting a little closer to one of her small teams than she would like. Squeezing the trigger on her A280, Snarl doesn't pause to see if her shot is a clean hit or not before she answers, "Party has already started, Shau, but you can certainly buy the whiskey."

About to pick a spot to pitch a grenade, Snarl once again pauses as her com comes to life, this time with obvious urgency. Golden eyes blink with surprise, and then she frowns. "We will do our best, General," she replies to the Sullustan. Switching frequencies, the Horansi barks into her com, "Slight change of plan, people! Cover fire for our comrades on the wall. Do as much damage as you can as quickly as you can to draw enemy fire, but watch your own backs too." That said, Snarl activates the grenade and sends it sailing in a surprisingly long arc that ends in the midst of a squad of Stormies.

Right after the concussion of several grenades going off at almost the same time, the electronic beep signaling an incoming communication once again demands Snarl's attention. The Horansi sighs - who knew trying to direct a war could be so distracting? The voice that comes through the link catches her immediate attention, however. General Unnh is still over with his troops in the SoroSuub, but his words are relevant, that's certain, "You have company coming, Major. The Selene has been spotted moving in your direction." "Thank you, Sir," is all that Snarl says in response before closing the link. She then swears like a sailor in her native tongue before reopening the link to a different group entirely. "We need close air support," she growls into her com. "Report of a StarDestroyer heading toward the Starport." "Aye, Sir," comes the brief response before her com finally goes quiet. Even as the Horansi pitches another grenade, she watches a small group of Stormies trying to sneak up on a couple of her marines. If her people don't notice them in the next minute or so, she'll take care of the matter personally.

"I'll make it Corrrellian, y'know?" Shau'ri retorts calmly while acting as 'sniper' of sorts for her team, cleanly taking out those who try to sneak out on the crew with the grenade launchers, the one-liners spilling as easuly and as surely out of her lips as the shots fired from her rifle. As her comm beeps again, Major Vizjerei listens to both the Sullustan General's report and Snarl's answer, she proceeds to relay orders to her squad, going in to lead directly those providing cover for the others doing the more direct kind of damage, "I've got yourrr back, Sssnarl, don't want t'down it all by myssself..." she says, not pausing on her appointed job of keeping Stormies from sneaking on to her troops.

The re-enforcements for the Imperials have indeed arrived. Proof of this being a fresh squad of Imperial Troops headed up by 2nd Lt Maris Becton. Advancing forward in near perfect rhythm all with their weapons wielded and ready for anything. Speaking over an encoded comlink to her unit, Maris hands out her set of orders, "Take your positions, steady your aim and keep watch for those grenades!" Just as she says that, a group of STs get hit nearby, causing the Lt to flinch slightly. "Keep low!"

A small finger moves to the side of Sergeant Kyun Frul's head as the dark-clad Sullustan taps the headset comlink resting above his dewflapped face. The position of the Sand Cats had just been relayed to Lieutenant Giun. The Sergeant stands on level 5 of the inside of the planet, watching the events below. He turns to look at his squad of ten other Sullustan fighters. All of them are outfitted much the same; large coils of rope, a Kylan-3,a knife, a few grenades, and some with a rifle of their own choice. Frul himself is holding an A-280, resisting the urge to start firing from his perch. Suddenly his headset crackles as a voice comes through. "Alright Sergeant, we'll provide your cover. Send 'em down." He nods to himself and replies, "Yes sir. Sand Cats on their way." He makes a few hand gestures to his squad before preparing his rope.

When himself and the rest of the Sand Cats are ready, he gives a final signal and walks backward off the edge, both hands on the rope. Is rifle is dangling from his back, secured by a strap across his torso. He rapidly begins descending along with the squad, hoping against hope they would make it down with no losses. Through his comlink: "Sand Cats deployed. Keep us alive."

As the orders go through the channels and his company begins showing its remarkable flexibility, Giun looks about, quickly taking stock of how things are going. And for the moment, they're going reasonably well. As long as those Republic and planetary fighters get here quickly enough to tie up that Star Destroyer and keep it off the starport. "Mellcrawlers," he jabbers in Sullustese into his headset comm, "Move to position Iota, two three seven mark zero nine. Lay down heavy fire from the opposite side of the caldera onto the Imperials. Try and turn their attention away from the Sandcats if you can."

Even as he speaks, Snarl's and Shau'ri's Republic soldiers are opening up a heavy rain of crimson on the entrenched Stormtroopers. The amount of damage is difficult to determine, but as long as it keeps the white-clad enemy from firing on his people as they descend from one level to the next, it will be enough. They MUST get to that control room!

As almost an afterthought, the Lieutenant glances across the vast landing bay, making sure all the -other- pieces to the puzzle are already in place. And doing his part, he lifts his rifle and begins firing at the nearest grouping of enemy white.

"Enemy fighters approaching on an attack vector," one of the junior officers announced to the commanders. For a moment Danik considered getting in his own fighter and flying out there to intercept them, but quickly second-guessed it as his skills were needed here right now. "Deploy the fighters. Send Demon squadron to intercept the enemy fighters, and Mobius Squadron to strafe enemy forces in the 5th sector," Danik announced, his eyes glued to the tactical display. The 5th sector, under Imperial zoning, was being hit hard. Grenades had been effective in eliminating many Imperial troopers, but with the initial surprise now gone, the Imperials were gradually re-organizing themselves into a semi-cohesive fighting force. The single AT-AT was active and moving forward, two light tanks flanking it on their approach to sector 5. Two squads of infantry forces that had been deployed in reserve, and had thus been unaffected by the initial rebel attack, were now forming up along with the three armored units and moving to reinforce the front lines. The frontlines was rather hectic, however. With the Imperials taken completely by surprise, they did not have enough time to organize and prepare a proper defense. What Imperials did survive were falling back to temporary fortifications, a few E-web emplacements placed here and there in sporadic locations, providing the only means of surpressing fire for the Imperials at the moment. The troopers ducked for cover, returned fire. Some, however, were not very lucky. At the moment, things were looking bad for the Imperials, and with confusion spreading through the ranks, none had yet spotted the Sandcats currently rapelling down to the first level. And from under the belly of the Star Destroyer came the two squadron of interceptors. They quickly broke formation, one squadron heading out to intercept the enemy fighters, the other going down to provide close-air support in the front lines, their laser cannons powering up as they prepared to assist their brothers in arms.

Those grenades hadn't been quite as devastating as she'd hoped, but Linna's spirits are soaring. The operation is going well, from what she can hear over the comlink. The Sand Cats are coming down currently unopposed, due to the Imperials' difficulty in focusing on much else besides staying alive and staying where they are. However, she knows well that that unopposed status could change at any time. But now her Viper II is reloaded, and five more grenades means five more opportunites to keep the Imperial cohesiveness decidedly incohesive. Seeing a few new troops coming onto the field, she eyeballs the angles and sends them some welcoming gifts in the space of a few seconds, two grenades for each of two squads and one aimed at another for makeweight. The sound of the explosions is music to her ears. Only... that's not just explosions she's hearing! It's the drone of very, very large repulsorlift generators and ion drives, keeping aloft something that's too big to be airworthy of its own accord. And beneath that enormous, booming hum are dozens of smaller screams, steadily getting louder! Linna looks up into a huge shadow, shot through with smaller, much faster ones that are quickly getting larger! "Vultures in the rafters!" she shouts to the Major and the rest of the small unit, before grabbing the soldier next to her and pulling him to the ground. Laser blasts riddle the ground nearby, tracing a steady line over their position. Linna and the man with her are missed, but two of their comrades aren't so lucky, strobing green laser-light highlighting their unfortunate ends. Her eyes stinging with tears born of fury and dust, Linna silently curses that overgrown arrowhead of Imperial filth overhead. Somehow being outnumbered is always worse when your enemy is figuratively and literally out of reach, even when you aren't out of /his/ reach!

"Good idea, Shau," comes Snarl's brief but amused reply to Shau'ri. "Would not want you walking into any doorways after hogging all the rum." Yes, even now the Horansi is able to tease her friend, but the ribbing is short and sweet. She has other things to worry about right now as yet another not-so-good report reaches her ears over the com. Peering up and out into the chaotic, vast space of the cauldera, she spots what she was looking for. Opening to a more general frequency, Snarl announces, "We have arial fighters entering our area. Those of you who still have grenades and functioning launchers, set your sights on those fighters. Bring them down." A series of clicks from various groups is all the acknowledgement the massive cat receives, but it's enough. Immediately a good portion of the grenades are selectively aimmed at the incoming fighters, which have had to slow down as a consequence of approaching the large structures of the landing bays and the starport itself. Snarl fires two grenades of her own at a pair of fighters that appear to have swooped close enough, and then moves from her place of cover. Settling the hot launcher over her back with a wince, the Horansi quickly takes off on all fours toward a semi-hidden nest of Marines who are busy firing into the air at the invading fighters and not seeing the small group of Storm Troopers creeping up on them. Unfortunately for the Troopers, they apparently didn't see the Horansi coming. With a furious roar, the Major flings herself bodily into the group of Humans and starts ripping things up. Not the most pleasant way to go.

This time, Shau doesn't answer with a quick, witty retort, but perhaps the sounds of her chuckling might end up being carried over across her comlink signal to Snarl...

Or maybe not...

As the information feed keeps flowing uninterrupted, the Major keeps note of her surroundings and relays instructions to her troops to keep providing cover for the grenadiers and distraction for the Sand Cats, Shau spies her comrade and best friend basically just 'losing it' to her more savage nature and flinging herself into the group of Stormtroopers about to sneak out on a bunch of Marines... Whoah...!!!

"Great Goddess..." it's all that Shau says before starting to fire towards those in the group not being ripped apart by Snarl, and that are in a position to harm the Horansi. It's a good thing that Shau's a sharp shooter. Got to provide cover for the other big cat girl on the team...

Frul's neck cranes as he descends, checking his distance from the ground, as well as if the Sandcats are being shot at or noticed. As far as he can tell at this point, they had remained undetected. He looks back around to the Sullustans under his command, noting each of their movements as they scale the walls of the landing area. The Sergeant ticks off the waypoints as they pass. Level five... level four... level three... he cranes his neck again, checking the activity below. As he turns, a bolt of energy whips by, actually singing the outer layer of his clothing, luckily missing him or his rope. His eyes follow the movement, letting out a sigh of relief as the shot embeds itself in the wall with a sizzling hiss. His neck swivels again, much more rapidly, searching for the source of the shot. Had that been a fluke, or deliberate? Eyes still searching for the culprit, Frul's ears pick up a high pitched screaming. Enemy TIEs, heading our way. He gives a sharp command over his headset to the squad, "Hold descent. Stay to wall. We got Ties coming. Can't let them see us." He pulls the rope taught, stopping suddenly and swinging inward towards the wall. Using his feet and legs, he cushions the landing and plasters himself to the wall as best he can. After several seconds, he turns his head once more to pick out the positions of the TIEs. They were far enough away for them to keep moving. He gives the all clear sign to his waiting squad and once more begins to descend. Another level goes by, leaving one left to go. The thought of crossing his fingers flashes through his mind, quickly oppressed by the gravity of the task before himself and the Sandcats around him.

"Sandcat Group! Frul, get your team on the ground and get those levers. We're down to seven minutes before maximum pressure triggers the overflow valves outside the city, and then we lose our chance. Move it!" Giun puts down his blaster, its power pack grown warm from firing over and over, and pulls a heavier weapon off his shoulder as he keeps issuing orders.

"All fighters with fletch launchers, target that walker. Anyone with anything heavier than a hand cannon, I want you on those Interceptors. The rest of you, keep those Stormtroopers face-down in the glass!"

He glances at his chronometer again, "Let's go, Sandcats! What's the hold up here?" Raising a fletchette launcher to his shoulder, the Sullustan kneels behind lava stoneworks and braces himself, aiming the weapon just behind the head of the AT-AT and waiting for it to sound a lock signal.

Two of the TIE Interceptors over the starport are hit by enemy fire and crash into the ground, one of them right on an allied position - destroying the e-web emplacement and three troops huddled near it. It was evident to the troops on the ground that there was real no hope for winning. Their only choice now was to hold the rebels off for as long as possible until they could retreat. But retreat where? They were in a volcano! It was up to the Selene to get them out. If they could get them out. Two more interceptors collided with themselves in the cramped volcano, and with the losses as they were, it was enough to convince Danik to pull the remaining fighters out of the volcano. His eyes were still glued to the display, watching as rebel units continued to push the Imperials back further and further. Only one hundred-fifty Imperial troops remained capable of fighting, and the AT-AT had toppled over from an immense attack with the flachette launchers, causing it to come crashing down on one of the hovertanks. Desperate calls for an evacuation were being placed in, but Danik's hands were tied. The Victory-class Star Destroyer hovered over the volcano, its dagger-shape casting a shadow below in the starport. Maybe the Imperials would launch a desperate rescue attempt. But instead, all the Selene did was collect its surviving fighters and open up with a barrage from its underbelly turbolasers, as few as they were. Who they were firing on was not essential; they were just trying to do as much damage as possible. Several minutes later, the firing ceased, and the Selene began to peel away. It was the last thing Danik wanted to do.

Linna peeks up from the powdery glass the makes up the floor of the crater, seeing Imperial fighters going down from counterfire, and a few from collisions. Not far away from another position, that annoying AT-AT walker is going down, half its head and part of one leg shredded away by a barrage of flechette canisters from nearly every direction. Almost none of the Imperial troops are out in the open now, and even that isn't much help, with so much firepower on them. But that still leaves the Interceptors... Linna blinks, suddenly not hearing any laser fire from the fighters overhead. She raises her eyes to the sky, and chokes back a startled cry as she sees that the TIEs are retreating! Next to her, with her hand still on his shoulder, Private Timmons lets out a whoop of exultation. "We did it! They're pulling out!" Linna frowns faintly... something's not right. /What/ did they do? The 'not right' part of the question suddenly becomes evident, as giant green fingers of turbolaser-light suddenly reach down from the sky, glassing everything they touch! Momentary fountains of volcanic rock are hurled into the air by the energy of the impacts, raining down like a hailstorm of stone. Linna yelps and pulls Timmons' head back down, covering her own with one arm. Chips of stone powder and sting them, but none of the turbolasers strike nearer than a hundred yards away. Other units aren't so lucky. One repeater-gun emplacement simply /vanishes/, shrinking into nothingness in that hot green glow. Another is nearly buried by a nearby explosion. Part of the caldera is struck and avalanches down into the bowl... right on top of a luckless Imperial position that was too close to the impact. It's a long moment before she can look up, once the sound of the blasts has ceased. Parts of the battlefield are simply unrecognizable in the aftermath of the barrage. While the friendly forces were battered, and will be mourning many dead, no small number of those caught in the onslaught and its side efects were Imperial. Linna stares at the now-alien landscape in shock. "What... what did they do /that/ for?! Aren't they going to rescue their own?!"

FINALLY! She can stop feeling like she's ineffectual in this battle and actually cause a real ruckus. Grabbing one Trooper by his ankles, Snarl howls and swings him around as though he were a large battle ax, knocking other Stormies down with the poor man's head. Or what's left of it anyway. The fact that three of them fall down with smoking holes through their helmets isn't lost on the big cat, and she gives a quick wave in Shau's direction after dropping her... uh... weapon on the ground to join the heap of Trooper remains. This job finished, the Horansi drops to all fours and dashes back to a more protected location from which to fire more grenades where they're needed.

Hmm... Grenades have worked well so far, but something a little nastier might be helpful with the TIEs or the armored hovertanks that are drawing closer. Up until now, Snarl hasn't tried to use the stronger pieces of ammunition that she brought with her, saving it for a moment of greater need. This could be it. Pulling out a modified, much smaller launcher, the Horansi busies herself with adhering a sticky substance to a specific location on the side of a thermal detonator. It'll stick to the first thing it hits... as long as she loads the thing correctly and doesn't end up blowing herself to bits instead. Fortunately, she's had considerable experience with these tiny, yet devestating devices and handles it with care and confidence. Once the weapon is loaded correctly and the detonater set to go off in only 15 seconds, Snarl quickly sights on the remaining hovertank and fires her tiny projectile. It is at this point that she realizes the TIEs are retreating back to the much larger ship overhead.

As the Star Destroyer releases a barrage of laser fire, Snarl ducks behind volcanic obsidian and waits... An explosion of shards from a hit close to her position brings up crimson flecks here and there along the Horansi's right side. With her head low as she crouches down, her face and eyes aren't harmed by the flying daggers of rock, but she does hiss in response to the small punctures that occur elsewhere along her lanky body. The damage isn't serious, but it is painful. Panting slightly, Snarl lifts her head and cautiously peers over her obsidian barricade to see what happened to the landscape and the two armies after that mess.

It's been a long time since Shau'ri last played the sniper part instead of getting more directly into combat, but, for this once, she is glad that she decided to stick to that role. Snarl's wave is answered to with a brief inclination of her head, aiming one last shot at one of the downed Stormtroopers that seemed to have enough force to try and level a weapon at the Horansi... not a good idea, as the resident part lioness ends up any further attempt with just one shot, also covering Snarl's retreat as well.

After that, its back to do the same for the remainder of her team, that is, until the closest equivalent to fire and brimstone that she has ever seen starts to fall from the sky, but, instead of red flames, it's in the shape of an deathly green light... It's a good thing that she's quick, because it's all she can do to get some much needed cover behind a barricade with several members of her team, glancing in wide-eyed horror as the retreating forces destroy not only the planet and many of the lives of those fighting for the Sullustan's freedom, but also destrying their own men left behind... "Dear Goddess..." Shau whispers, anger and horror fighting on her face, though the visor on her helmet disguises most of it... But, this is not the time to brood, or even to relish this small victory. This is time to gether her team again, check for those who need tending to their wounds and regroup... There's no time to waste...

The Sergeant responds quickly into the headset in response to Giun, "One level to go, Lieutenant. Seven minutes you say?" He grins to himself, "More than enough." He signals the team to move faster, simultaneously checking the area for enemy fire. There had been no incidents since the stray blaster shot, but Frul was not about to take chances. Thirty yards from the ground. He begins to check through his objectives, conveniently located in his mind. As himself and the ten black-clad Sullustans reach the ground, they quickly sever themselves from the rope. Frul deftly swings the A280 around from it's position on his back into his hands, hunching down and watching the scene unfolding before him. The squad members do the same, all of them alert and ready to take orders. A quiet hand signal and the group begins to swiftly make their way along the wall to the control room. A sudden hole erupts in the wall by his head, causing him to quickly duck and turn, targeting a small group of Imperial soldiers aiming at himself and the squad. Before he can react, two of the men on the team fall victim to the bright laserfire. He swears loudly and pulls the trigger of his rifle several times, taking out many of the group. "Keep moving!" is all he shouts above the incoming and outgoing blaster shots. He crouches, and as the team passes, he pulls a grenade from his utility belt and throws it in the direction of the other soldiers. Another Sullustan falls down, another curse from the Sergeant. He grits his teeth and begins dashing for the contol tower. "COME ON!" And his remaining team does just that, all of them now sprinting headlong to the control room. Upon arriving at the control station, he reaches out his arm, slapping a large button on a small control panel. The doors slide open with a hiss, and the Sullustans dive in. A few stray blaster shots follow them through, injuring several of the squad members. Frul himself turns and begins laying down more fire, walking backwards through the blast doors. Several more Imperials fall to the ground, killed or wounded, but not without a price. Just before the doors close, the Empire's soldiers seem to have regrouped enough to send an organized volley of blaster fire at the Sand Cats. Three shots connect with the Sergeant, one to his left leg, another to his right shoulder, and the last stopped from penetrating through to his heart only by a light blast vest. As the doors steam closed, several shots pepper off of the durasteel, proving themselves worthless. Frul turns to check on his team. Four lost in the charge, two injured, not including himself. He nods to them and utters a few quick commands that send the able-bodied Sullustans to the aid of their comrades laying on the floor. He himself limps to the main area of the Control tower. As he looks out a small window, his eyes widen as he watches the large green barrages from the turbolaser batteries above. His face quickly hardens again, and he switches to a private frequency over his headset. "Lieutenant, we are in place. Awaiting your orders, Sir."

Giun gives Frul the order, "Do it! Open them! Now!" Human ears likely could not hear the tone that registers against Giun's tympani as his launcher acquires a lock on the hulking AT-AT. To him, however, it whines shrilly. He squeezes the trigger, launching an eleven-centimeter missile at the walker's only known weak spot - the same one taken advantage of by Wedge Antilles at the Battle of Hoth. His, however, is not the flechette that destroys the mammoth troop carrier. His only is the signal that tells Republic forces positioned all around the caldera that NOW is the time to launch.

The trail of blue smoke leading back to his launcher is also the signal that attracts the attention of a TIE Interceptor pilot. With a high-pitched squawk, the fighter opens fire before Kreldin's recall command peels the roaring, gun metal gray starship away toward the opening above. Rocks explode around the Lieutenant, the heat from the plasma bolt searing the air and drawing it from his lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. A split second later, he blacks out as a cascade of volcanic rock buries him and those around him under several hundred pounds of matter. He never sees the violent death rained down upon his forces and theirs by the Selene.

Throughout the battle, all Sullustan and New Republic forces have been under orders to have rebreathers at the ready. Before ever coming to Sullust, those who weren't from the planet had been trained in how to handle the heat of a planet so geologically active. Militarily, that only made sense. Now, that training and equipment would become utterly important. It is well known around the galaxy that Sullust is a place of tremendous beauty - underground. The Sullustans had learned to channel water around the interior walls of nearly palatial cities, creating breathtaking scenes of inspiration. Its hot springs are renouned among the rich as the interstellar destination of choice for pampering and relaxation. But where does all that water come from, and where does it go?

Sullust's hot springs are, like hot springs everywhere, geothermal. Their waters are heated to temperatures beyond scalding, cooled to tolerable levels, used, and discarded through hidden pipes. The pipes channeling those waters out of the ground happen to run right through the walls of the ancient volcano housing the starport. In fact, the superheated water is actually used here for powerwashing surfaces of the ships and the starport itself, as well as for mechanical purposes. As Frul's team throws the levers inside the control room, pressure release valves positioned around the hangar do what under any other circumstances would be considered a disaster. With a shriek like a krayt dragon defending her younglings, the valves suddenly erupt with thousands upon thousands of gallons of superheated water, pouring it onto the floor and flooding the bay in very quickly rising water. The bay is so large that it doesn't seem possible the water will rise very high, but there is more to the problem than a flood. The temperature in the room very quickly begins to rise with the humidity, quickly passing 40, then 50 degrees centigrade. Noxious gases released with the water make the air into an enemy that seeps into a sentient's lungs, making it nearly impossible not to cough on the burning atmosphere. It is, ultimately, incapacitating, burning those who are not prepared and leaving them choking for breath that sears the lungs and comes only in enough quantity to keep one alive.

Thus ends the second day of fighting on Sullust, as the New Republic and the planet's natives fight tooth, nail, flap and claw to maintain the freedom of the system from Imperial control. Dozens dead. Again. And this time the invading armies holding less ground than they had the day before. Dozens of troopers now wounded, about to become prisoners of the Republic. And honestly, for them, that's probably an improvement. Dozens of Republic men and women also wounded, forced early into retirement, perhaps, but glad at least not to be another statistic.

With the completion of the barrage, a lot of the Imperials began surrendering. Their commanders had abandoned them to the enemy, leaving them betrayed and so demoralized that they simply threw down their guns. A few pockets of the most radical Imperials continued fighting however, Imperial stormtroopers trained to fight to the last man, regardless of what happened. As the superheated water poured over the starport, these last pockets of resistance were snuffed out, and the ones who had surrendered were taken in as well, despite having surrendered. More would die from this, others left with burns that would scar them for life. A lucky few were able to get high enough grounds to escape the water, but whatever the case, the fight was now over, but the Battle for Sullust was still in full swing.