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| - The task force under the command of Rear Admiral Kedlis Hetton reverted to realspace just as planned, with the four warships taking up their position as the Marines and their fighter escort were completing their descent into the extremes of Iridonia's upper atmosphere. “Reversion complete, Admiral,” Captain Melao reported. “The fleet will be on-station in a matter of moments.” “Good,” Hetton replied, rising from his command chair and striding forward along the upper bridge walkway, his hands clasped at the small of his back. “Bring the cruisers to delta-forward formation. Inform Captain Tyr that he is to launch his squadrons immediately, taking up station between us and our cruisers. All ships are to minimize their sensor signatures by any means available.” “Aye aye, sir,” Melao replied. The two men nodded to each other as the captain made to relay the admiral's orders. For the next several minutes, Hetton kept his eye on the landing force's progress via the sensor officer's telemetry screens. As they made planetfall, the reports coming through over their tactical frequencies could be heard over the communications officer's console, toward which the flotilla commander gravitated. He allowed a slight smile to crease his otherwise rather bland brow, as he noted the swift progress of Captain Reyolé's Marines. In the starfield beyond the forward viewports, the crest of Iridonia's day side could just be made out against the moon behind which the task force lurked. — — — The boom from the heavy door's impact against the brightly-lit corridor floor hadn't quite faded before Laera and the first squad of her Marines had dashed into the complex, stacking up against the walls for cover as they approached the nearest intersection. Silently gesturing for her troops to ready themselves, she extended her awareness into the Force, looking for the telltale auras of nearby lifeforms. Those of her Third Battalion were easily filtered out; most of them she already knew well enough that they blended into the background as she concentrated on finding signatures that were unfamiliar. For the moment, however, she could feel no hostiles in the platoon's immediate vicinity. As the rest of the platoon poured into the corridor, Laera gestured for the formation to split up by squads. “Stick close,” she reminded Ensign Dan'kre with a whisper. “Second Squad, on me. First and Third, fan out. Keep it tight and don't take any chances.” A chorus of nods greeted her orders, and as Laera guided the dozen Marines of Besh Company's Second Squad, Second Platoon deeper into the complex, the other squads progressed onward in other directions. She didn't have to broadcast similar orders to the other units over the tactical comm; this kind of breach-and-clear operation was commonplace enough that the individual platoon and squad leaders could coordinate their roles without further instructions. Keeping a steady pace, her lightsaber still lit and poised to pick off incoming blasterfire, Laera led her troops into the heart of the complex, toward where she suspected the command center was situated. As the squad progressed, she kept her Force-perception sharp, on the lookout for enemy personnel. After a few minutes of near-silent progress, she began to wonder where the Sith garrison had got to. Ordering her squad to take up a defensive posture within a large storage area, situated off a hallway not far from the complex's core and full of supply crates, she got on the tactical net. “Hornhead Hammer to Hammer Two-Actual, report!” — — — The smoke had only begun to clear when the tactical comm buzzed inside Thedus Bimm's helmet. Before replying, he gestured toward the squad accompanying him, signaling the Marines to hold up and stand ready. “Hammer Two-Actual here. We're making steady progress; all four towers were taken more or less intact. The Sith in the main facility are putting up a scrap, but they don't seem all that keen on holding this place. We just ran into a mob of them, but they retreated before we could get off more than a handful of shots.” The comm was silent for a moment as Thedus mulled over the possible implications of this lack of eagerness on the part of the Sith—something he strongly suspected his captain was also doing. Finally, she responded. “I don't like it,” Laera's voice spoke into his comlink. “Call me crazy, but I've got a bad feeling about this.” “Call you crazy, ma'am?” Thedus replied with a snort. “Perish the thought! Got any special orders for us?” The senior officer's reply was decidedly direct. “Hornhead Hammer to all ground units: clear this place out and secure for possible counterattack.” — — — “Let's move out, people,” Laera ordered her squad as they left the storage room and resumed their recon of the base. Turning left at a T-junction, she began to pick out the auras of enemy troops. “Incoming!” she hissed after they had progressed only a few dozen meters; at her signal, the troopers divided their column into two, each crouching against the walls as, around another corner, a half-dozen silver-clad soldiers marched. The Marines didn't need orders or permission to fire, and within a quarter-minute, all six Sith were dead on the floor, their armor smoking from several blaster hits apiece. The troopers continued forward, taking the corridor from which their recently-deceased antagonists had come, maintaining their two-column, wall-hugging formation. Only a few Sith soldiers could be picked out through the Force as Laera's squad advanced. As they approached the inner command center, a quartet of grenadiers tossed their ordnance into the hallway at the Marines' feet, but with a sharp push of her palm, the Jedi sent them back at their attackers. Their auras vanished as they died, killed by their own grenades. “Close one, ma'am,” the squad's sergeant commented. “A little too close,” Laera replied, shaking her head ruefully. Oh, how handy that would have been back on Onderon! she thought to herself, glad that her troopers couldn't see the ugly expression on her face. Turning the final bend before entering the corridor that led to the complex's nerve center as she sprinted ahead of her Marines, Laera once again brought her blade up. Three more enemy soldiers immediately opened fire on her; two bolts missed wide, but the third she was able to send back at her attacker, though it missed him by a meter. Whirling her blade in a steady cadence, she picked off more bolts, increasing her rebounding accuracy, so that by the time the rest of the squad had caught up, all three of her opponents were dead. With the way forward clear, they dashed toward the far end of the hall, whereupon Laera slashed the door open with her lightsaber before deactivating it. Bashing her way through and tucking into a shoulder-roll, she regained her feet and brought her reignited weapon up as she assessed the threats beyond. The room itself was dark, in contrast to the stark lighting of the base's corridors and hallways, lit only by the glowing of many monitors, planar and holographic. Several unmasked Sith officers and technicians could be seen sitting at various monitoring stations. At least two of them were foolish enough to scramble for weapons, only to be cut down before they could so much as grip their sidearms. The rest, however, raised their hands in surrender, but before Laera could order her men to take them into custody, the words she had been hoping against were broadcast over the comm... — — — Admiral Hetton was listening in at the comm console when the sensor officer spoke up. “Admiral, we have enemy ships decanting from hyperspace over the target area!” The flag officer wheeled about, his green eyes flashing. “Class and numbers, Lieutenant?” “I count three—no, four Interdictor-class cruisers! They are launching fighters!” “How many, and in what direction?” “Only about a squadron each, sir,” the sensor officer replied. “They're taking up patrol stations, the capitals are in loose diamond formation, oriented parallel to the surface and heading for an outbound vector.” The admiral cursed to himself. He'd suspected this, had told the Marine captain that it was a possibility, but even he was surprised at the power of the reinforcements that had been dispatched—if the four enemy warships out there were in fact reinforcements. Whether they were intended to repel the Republic's attack or had simply stopped by for supplies, it was impossible to tell; nevertheless, this could mean serious trouble. Fortunately, their actions suggested that this was just a routine pit stop on their way to some other battle, and that meant he had options. “Bring the task force around on an intercept course," Hetton ordered, maintaining his cool. "At least we can hit their back ranks before they realize what's going on down there. Comms, send the codewords.” — — — Chak Ravartin heard the words, his mouth opening in a choked-off gasp as he pulled out from a strafing run on a retreating column of Sith troopers. “Hornhead Capital to all units: the horn has been severed; repeat, the horn has been severed!” “Shabus, form up and strike for space,” Commander Juyode ordered over the squadron channel. “Set course two-oh-two and link up with Dalus. Let's bag us some Sith fighters!” As Chak swung his Aurek around to rendezvous with his flight, he mulled over the possibilities. He knew, by use of that specific phrase, that enemy reinforcements had arrived, and it would be up to the two squadrons of Republic starfighters to engage the incoming formation as best they could from head-on. This would, ideally, make the enemy focus on them, while the rest of the task force's fighters and capital ships hit them from the other side. The prospects were not particularly good, and the young ensign had cause to dislike them even more when his primary monitor informed him of the extent of the threat: four enemy capital ships and, potentially, sixteen entire squadrons worth of Sith interceptors. — — — No sooner had the second word in the code phrase been uttered than Laera sprang into action. Throwing all caution to the wind, she called upon the Force in a great leap that took her up in a grand arc toward the room's high ceiling, to land in a graceful crouch atop the communications station. Within a half-second, she had stabbed her weapon deep into the console's inner workings; it spat sparks that caused the officer stationed there, who had only begun to surrender, to leap back from it, her dour face white with terror. “Squad, deal with these prisoners,” the captain spat as she dismounted the ruined piece of equipment. As the Marines rushed to obey, slapping flex-binders on the handful of officers whose hands had been raised, Laera looked about the room. With a lurch in the pit of her stomach, she recognized the configuration of one console, tucked away near the far corner of the large command center. “Dan'kre, get up here!” she ordered, striding toward the terminal. “Yes, ma'am?” the Bothan inquired as he joined his superior officer at the console. “You've got slicer training, right?” Laera asked hurriedly. “Yes, ma'am; I was an amateur slicer before joining the military. They trained me further—” “Never mind that,” Laera snapped, pointing at the terminal. “Get into that thing and drain it dry. I want every byte of data you can suck out of it, as well as every other intact computer on this base, encrypted or not.” “Yes ma'am!” Dan'kre replied as, removing his helmet, he slipped into a seat and began tapping at the interface, his fingers skittering across it with frantic purpose. — — — As Chak and the rest of Shabu and Dalus Squadrons burned sky, closing the distance between them and the leading vanguard of Sith fighters at maximum velocity, he began to rub almost frantically at his charm. Busting up an asteroid depot that hadn't even known they were under attack before the first volley had hit was one thing, but rushing headlong into battle against superior odds was something else entirely. He, like the rest of the two dozen Aurek pilots, kept their reservations to themselves. Until they closed the distance, all they could do was to make sure that their shields and weapons were at full capacity. It's a good thing we scrimped on the torps, he thought to himself. “Fifteen seconds to max firing range,” Shabu Lead announced. “Prepare proton torpedoes for volley fire, launch on my mark!” Chak made the necessary adjustments, his hands somewhat unsteady as they gripped the flight controls. The range-to-target indicator on his primary monitor scrolled rapidly downward, with the pilot starting to sweat as it did so. You're doing fine, the alien, yet comforting thought slipped into his mind at that moment. It used his own words, seemingly drawing upon his own inner confidence and skill, bringing it to the fore. Just relax and keep loose... Chak smiled in spite of himself. His senses seemed to snap into an almost super-focus; he could see and feel everything around him as though he'd been given a stim-shot. When Shabu Lead ordered volley-fire, he noticed that the commander, too, seemed to sound more sure of himself. Dutifully, the ensign dual-launched his proton torpedoes, and almost immediately, two Sith interceptors flashed into fragments amidst two magnificent fireballs. Those weren't the only two to go up in flames, however, not by a long shot... “Shabu Squadron, break by pairs and fire at will!” — — — Acaadi smiled wickedly to himself from where he lurked, hidden, near the supply depot's command center where he had known his target would go. He had sensed the arrival of the Sith task force, had sensed too that they had not arrived expecting battle, but they were more than adequate to repel this pathetic Republic assault. Soon, this skirmish would be but a memory, and an entire battalion of the Republic's finest troops, along with their expensive landers, would be ground beneath the mighty tread of the Sith Empire. He relished the thought of corrupting the Jedi officer in the next room, who he vaguely recognized. It would be a most exquisite thing to add her power to that of the Sith—it would more than make up for his failure to seduce his former comrade, Duqua Dar. If this officer was who he felt she might be, then he would indeed be greatly rewarded by the Dark Lord for bringing her to him. In the midst of these appealing thoughts, he began to sense the effects of a new presence in the Force. It was not located within the complex—it wasn't even based anywhere on this world—but it resonated with strength and confidence, touching minds throughout the surrounding area and...around the moon? “That can't be right,” the dark Zabrak warrior whispered to himself. “Why would this power focus itself in such a far-off area? No...no, it can't be...” His hopes dashed only moments after he had given them purchase, Acaadi knew that this battle would not be the foregone conclusion he had thought inevitable. His Republic adversary had been cleverer than he had given her credit for; she had brought her own spaceborne reinforcements, a powerful force that was augmented by the strength of Jedi battle meditation. This was going to get ugly.
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