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The Battle of Selvaris
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Kastor Antilles
Cray


Joined: 14 Jun 2009
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 Post Posted: Thu, March 04th 2010 11:51pm    Post subject: The Battle of Selvaris
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The Battle of Selvaris


Commanders
True Empire

  • Riene Zend (primary)
  • Admiral Danab (PNPC)

New Republic

  • Fran Ulgo (primary)


This battle has been pre-determined. This has been approved by faction leaders Zara (New Republic) and Cray (True Empire). It has been approved by the commanders of the battle, Moff (New Republic) and Moff (True Empire).
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Riene Zend
Moff


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 Post Posted: Tue, March 09th 2010 11:43pm    Post subject:
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The fleet dropped from hyperspace in the Tantara system. Riene's helmet was tucked under her arm as she stood on the bridge of the command ship Venomous, arrayed in full battle armor. "Begin long-range scan of the system," she ordered.

A few moments passed before the sensor operator chirped, "We've found them. They're in orbit of Selvaris!"

Zend to turned to Admiral Danab. "Admiral, this is your battle. Please make a way for me to get to mine."

The older officer bowed stiffly at the neck. "Yes, Chief Marshal. Helm, set an intercept course. All ahead flank and under no circumstances is the fleet to break formation. We cannot let that vessel isolate us."

As Danab continued to issue battle-readiness and deployment commands, Zend turned to one of the science officers. "Commander, you are certain about your hyperdrive modifications to the shuttle?"

"I have triple checked the modifications and the calculations, Chief Marshal. You should be able to get in and out in no time."

Riene gave him a stern look. She had no taste for ego or arrogance when it came to battle. "For your sake, you'd better be right," she said icily before donning her white helmet.

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way to the turbolift. Her place was now in the hangar bay with her assault team.

The Imperial fleet is on an intercept course for the Spirit of Alderaan. Once in range, Interdictors in the fleet will generate their gravity wells in front of the flagship. Admiral Danab has also ordered focused communications jamming.

Additionally, the Imperial fleet is to stay in a narrow formation to limit the number of guns the Republic flagship can bring to bear, as well as reduce sensor returns at long range. At no time are capital ships to break formation during approach.

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Fran Ulgo
Moff


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 Post Posted: Sat, March 13th 2010 01:24am    Post subject:
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"Enemy contacts!" called Sheffield from the sensor station. "Imp heavies!"

Fran's stomach wound itself into a knot. "How many?"

The report was alarming. The bucketheads had brought enough to seriously threaten even a Viscount. But more disturbing was the fact that most of the ships were of unknown configurations. The Alderaanian turned to the communications officer. "Lieutenant, signal Coruscant. Let them know our Imperial 'friends' are poking around Selvaris."

The communications officer pawed at his controls. "I can't get through. They're jamming our transmissions."

"What about local transmissions?" Limpan asked. "Can we contact our reserves?"

The officer plied his controls again. "Yes, ma'am. Shall I call them in."

Ulgo was about to practically shout in the affirmative when Limpan cut her off. "No. Contact the Imperials."

"Admiral?" the Commander in Chief asked pointedly.

The Duro blinked her large, red eyes. "It could be a training exercise."

"With that much firepower? And jamming?" Ulgo asked incredulously.

"They're still a few minutes away from firing range. Enough time to contact them and straighten it out," insisted the admiral.

The Alderaanian ground her teeth. As much as she wanted to open up with everything aboard the Spirit, the political fallout if this was some moronic—and clearly provocative—training exercise would be immense. A quick comm message wouldn't kill anything. "Carry out the admiral's orders, Lieutenant."

The officer sent a quick message, identifying the vessel and requesting an ID from the Imperials. Fran narrowed her eyes at the holographic representation of the inbound ships. Big, ugly, phallic displays, the lot of them.

"Admirals, I get no reply."

Sheffield spoke up again, his clipped Coruscanti accent thick with terror. "They're deploying gravity wells!"

"That tears it. This is no exercise," growled Ulgo. "General quarters, all hands to battlestations."

"Orders?" Limpan asked.

Fran looked at rear admiral for a moment. "Admiral, I'd be very much obliged if you made those ships go away."

The Duro nodded, then turned to the bridge crew. "Helm, bring us about. CAG, ready all fighters and load the K-Wings with heavy rockets."

If the Imps wanted a fight, they were going to get one. Fran was going to see to that.
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Commander in Chief Francine Oké Ulgo
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Riene Zend
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 Post Posted: Mon, March 15th 2010 01:51pm    Post subject:
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Riene watched as the assault shuttle slid through the hangar opening and into the cold vacuum of space. The Rebel ship was a tiny little dot in the distance, insignificant and meaningless. Indeed, the only matter of import to the whole mission was the disruption it would cause in the terrorist ranks.

The shuttle dropped below the keel of the massive command ship and hung motionless. The rest of the fleet cruised by, in a tight battle formation. Now, the waiting began.

Riene didn't like to wait.
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Fran Ulgo
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 Post Posted: Wed, March 24th 2010 10:24pm    Post subject:
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"Enemy ships closing at fifteen hundred," Sheffield called. "They'll be in range in thirty seconds."

Ulgo looked at Limpan. "Launch fighters?" she asked quietly.

But the admiral shook her head. "Not yet... they haven't deployed any. They may have something like diamond-boron missiles. We launch ours, they volley off a few... and then launch their TIEs unopposed."

And this is why you run the fleet portion...

"That said, have the K-Wings ready to deploy on command," finished Limpan.

The CAG, Commander Luthis, quickly issued the orders to the hangar deck.

"Weapons, target the lead vessel. The moment they're in range, open fire," the admiral ordered.

We'll make sure the bucketheads don't invade our space again... Fran thought, a wolfish smirk spreading across her face.
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Riene Zend
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 Post Posted: Sat, April 03rd 2010 03:20am    Post subject:
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Riene watched as Danab's fleet closed with the rebel flagship. Teraton-yield exchanges of fire were the tiniest of flares from her point of view. She wondered what was taking so long for the Republic ship to launch its beloved fighters. If Danab's bombardment became too intense, they might not deploy... meaning it would take longer for the massive Star Defender's shields to be battered down. And that would almost definitely translate into higher naval casualties—or worse yet, an escape.

“Are you certain that the hyperdrive is properly calibrated?” she asked the pilot.

The pilot nodded his black battle helmet. “We just need them to drop their shields, ma'am.”

Zend switched off her external mic and sighed. She was anxious, to be sure, but she wasn't about to show it in front of the men. The tension and anxiety in the passenger compartment was thick enough without them knowing about her own concerns and impatience.

And so, she waited, watching the grueling battle from afar. A few times, she used the image enhancing abilities of her helmet, but found the slightly zoomed-in view to be little-more enlightening. So, after a few minutes of seeing a few extra turbolaser bolts flying back and forth, she would reset the magnification level and look around the cramped cockpit and claustrophobic passenger compartment through the helmet's black eye lenses.

Finally, after what seemed like a string of eternities, the comm crackled. “They're launching fighters! The shields are going down!

“Pilot, jump now!” Riene snapped.

The pilot's gloved hand had already been on the level and he quickly pushed it forward. The stars blurred, the hyperdrive roared, and the shuttle jumped ahead. A short moment later, its pitched changed as the shuttle entered the gravity well of Selvaris. Now, it was up to the modifications and calculations of the various technicians that had tweaked the shuttle for this very mission. Riene's nerves tensed. If anything was to go wrong...

Just as quickly, the sound of the hyperdrive vanished. The shuttle lurched into realspace... and a massive Mon Calamari warship filled the viewport. For just a brief moment, Zend beheld the massive vessel with sheer awe, untainted by contempt for its owners. An armored colossus capable of dueling with even the Arquebusier on even terms, layered in thick armor along its seventeen kilometer length, and bristling with devastating armament. Riene's eyes were drawn to the bow of the vessel, where the Imperial task force was now blasting at hordes of fighters. She also noticed two Star Destroyers drifting, their systems disabled by ion cannon fire. Danab had clearly done his best to limit his fleet's exposure to the massive command ship's vast armament, but there was simply nowhere to attack from that was completely safe. More ominously, the hideous Koensayr bomber craft launched by the Rebel behemoth were vectoring in on the crippled vessels. Clearly, the ship's commander—or perhaps even the Rebel supreme commander herself—had no intentions of taking any prisoners.

Well, that was fine. And as the shuttle docked with the command pod, cutting its way in behind the bridge, Riene reflected on her own commitment to not encumber her strike team.

“We have contact. Engaging cutters,” the co-pilot called out.

“Troopers, on your feet!” barked the Chief Marshal. “Weapons check! Gas and packs!”

The sound of energy-testing diagnostics and the distinct metallic snap of priming levers being pulled filled the shuttle.

“Five seconds to break-through,” noted the co-pilot.

“In and out, troops. And if it's not wearing armor, kill it... except for our friendly, on-loan slicer here,” she said, pointing to the overalls-clad technician sitting at the back of the shuttle. “No one shoot him, please.”

That drew a few grim laughs from the veterans. Sometimes, a little black humor before the op was a good thing. Not always, but sometimes.

Zend pulled the charging lever on her own E-19 and stood in front of the shuttle's external hatch. She always led her troops into a battle. It was part of the reason the noncoms and regular troops didn't mind the daughter of the Grand Admiral holding their reigns; Riene's predecessor rarely went into battle. The last time he did, he made the foolish error of doing so in his full military regalia... and was shot through the head by a primitive slug-thrower sniper rifle. He assumed the natives of the planet to be foolish and easily intimidated, and ultimately, left her the task of punishing them for their audacity. His pomposity in thinking that prancing around, unarmored, during an anti-guerrilla campaign was a good idea sometimes made Riene think he deserved that sniper's bullet. Of course, she'd never speak that aloud, not even to the Grand Admiral herself.

The co-pilot's voice crackled in the helmet speakers again. “Concussion generator fully charged. Firing!”

A blast of energy ripped the avulsed hull plating away, granting the strike team access into the rebel ship. Riene saw a very surprised officer, wearing a blue uniform. As she ended his pitiful existence with a bolt of hot plasma, she noted how... Imperial the uniforms seemed. Certainly, a far cry from the vests and smocks worn by the terrorists during their formative years. However, the improvement in fashion sense didn't seem to extend to more important matters of the rebel mind, such as repenting of their crimes against civilization, giving up their terrorist methods, or the other evils they foisted upon the universe at large.

“Set up a cordon. Aurek and Besh Squads on me. Cresh, protect the slicer. Dorn will be in reserve,” she ordered, making sure the immediate corridor was clear.

As the assault section made its way through the glistening, pristine white corridors, Riene couldn't help but be amused by the handy camouflage provided to her and her troops, while the Republic personnel ran about in dark blue, beige, and green uniforms. All of the old jokes about Endor she'd heard in her childhood were being turned back on those that formulated them... a delicious irony.

As they made their way to the bridge, the team encountered a few close calls. More than one crewperson or officer tried to be a hero and dive for an intercom or alert button. But, each time, they never quite made it before falling to Stormtrooper blaster fire.

The first casualty came at the hatch to the bridge. There, two rebel guards stood watch. They carried the same E-19 assault carbines as her team and their backs were to the door. There was to be no sneaking by them. Zend considered a grenade, but the noise would have definitely been heard and the bridge would like be locked down before she could get her troops to the target. That only left direct confrontation, but even blaster fire would've probably tipped off the bridge crew... meaning their reaction time had to be reduced as much as possible. Using the flanking corridors—and combat knives for any wayward rebels in the way—the two squads formed up on either side of the door. Not even risking radio communications, Riene motioned to the other squad leader to simply pivot around the corner and blast the opposite guard. She would do the same from her side.

But, when the signal was given, the sergeant was a touch to slow and his aim a hair off. As Riene's victim succumbed to a spray of laser bolts in the chest and abdomen, the remaining guard managed to fire as he was struck in the arms and torso. The sergeant took the burst in the belly and dropped with a cry of agony. Zend adjusted her aim as the wounded guard pointed his weapon at her.

Riene shot first.

Then she dashed over the slumping, smoking, headless corpse hit the door control. Behind her, a grenadier stepped up as she dropped to one knee. The urge to utter a quip of some kind to the alarmed rebels was almost overpowering, but there was no time for such an indulgence. Instead, she simply leveled her rifle and blasted a dinner plate-sized hole in the torso of a Duros admiral. A moment later, the first of three rifle-launched frag grenades went off.

A human woman with dark hair was flung against a console by the blast. “Mister Sheffield,” she screamed to the sensor officer. “Lock down the bridge and sound intruder alert.”

Riene wasn't going to have any of that. As another frag went off, slaughtering more rebel scum, she tore into the sensor operator with a long burst from her E-19. His smoldering remains flopped unceremoniously out of his chair and to the deck.

The rifle's muzzle swung back to the dark-haired woman. The gold braid on her uniform and nine-dot insignia clearly marked her as the target. A simple squeeze of the blaster's trigger and the New Republic supreme commander dropped with a hole in her gut.

Zend quickly got out of the way of the door, letting the rest of her units pour in. “Bring in the tech,” she ordered. Cresh squad had been shadowing the assault group to cut down response times; they were on the bridge in mere seconds. More blaster fire rang out as Stormtroopers finished off wounded or merely dazed rebels.

All except one. Riene noticed that the supreme commander was very much alive and conscious. Granted, neither state would persist for long given the injury...

“You frakking bucketheads... I knew you'd turn on us,” the woman hissed.

Zend gave her no reply. Though she felt personally slighted to be compared to the Traitor Empire, permitting the enemy to believe misinformation was one of the keys to winning a war. The pride could come after ultimate victory; never was it to endanger the war effort.

“But you know what? You're just as dead as us... we were able to signal our escort group. They'll be here in three minutes. And all of your little ships... frakkin' dust,” she wheezed. “And then, we'll frakking grind you all the way back to Bastion and put an end to you, once and for all.”

Riene couldn't help herself. “I think we may beat you to it, rebel.”

When the rebel only gave a confused look, the stormtrooper continued. “We aren't from the pathetic Remnant. We fight for a true Empire.”

She started to turn away. “Now...” But, just at the edge of the limited peripheral vision offered by the helmet, she was the rebel quickly reach for something at her side. Zend pivoted back, but by then, the New Republic officer had a pistol drawn. Her first shot remarkably struck Riene's rifle, tearing open the barrel and knocking it from her grip. As the Stormtrooper reached for her sidearm, the rebel blasted another trooper in the face. Then another fell, struck in the leg.

Her weapon clear, Riene opened fire with her cut-down repeater. At that same moment, Ulgo's finger began to tense on the trigger of her pistol. Even as the frantic burst from Zend's sidearm reduced the middle of the New Republic commander's forearm to crimson mist, the hand gripped the pistol tightly, the trigger just on the edge of releasing another discharge.

Ulgo clutched the bloody, smoldering stump with a howl. But with one of her troopers dead, Riene was no longer in a gloating mood. She simply pointed her gun at the rebel's head, and squeezed the trigger until there was nothing left to hit.

“Slicer, get to work. They have reinforcements inbound,” Zend hissed.

“Yes, ma'am.” He typed feverishly at the controls for a few moments before declaring, “That's it. I'm in.”

“Lock down the bridge and reroute all command functions.”

The technician quickly entered the commands. “Done.”

Riene went to her platoon channel. “All units, button up.” Then she turned back to the technician. “Upload the targeting program. We'll have hostiles in system any minute.”

The slicer plugged a data storage unit into the console. “Finished.”

A thin smile played on Riene's lips, hidden by her mask. “Not yet. Lock open all containment bulkheads and hatches.”

She received a confused look in return, but the slicer did as he was ordered. When he looked back to her for more orders, she dismissively said “Now vent the atmosphere on every deck, and from every compartment, except the bridge.”

For an instant, the man hesitated. Color drained from his face at the callous order. But, there were to be no witnesses... and he knew better than to balk at an order from the Chief Marshal. “Decompressing, aye.”

Riene stepped to the front of the bridge, looking out over the massive vessel. Jets of air sprayed into the vacuum through vents and external openings. The larger openings usually had tiny, almost indistinct forms flailing about in the air stream. Just like the traitors had been sent a message through Jagged Fel, the terrorist military leader would be the harbinger of death for the New Republic. “Captain, bring the shuttle around. We'll be debarking from the bridge.”

The shuttle pilot acknowledged. “Copy. Once Dorn is safely aboard.

Save for a few bombers that were being eagerly chased and slaughtered by TIE Avenger flights, the battle had already been won. All that remained was the destruction of the terrorist fleet, and Riene felt quite confident that their own flagship was up to that task. No survivors, no witnesses. Some detritus and carefully disguised corpses that would be dumped by the main task force would pin the blame on rogue brigands.

All of it carefully orchestrated and prepared for; Riene doubted anyone in the known Universe beside her mother had the cunning, skill, resources, and foresight to pull off the complicated plan. She felt a tinge of honor to have been able to serve in its execution, to know she would be in the history books as the commander who led the attack that decapitated the terrorist military. In more ways than one, I suppose, she thought, permitting herself some private gallows humor.

As she finished smiling behind her mask, the shuttle maneuvered around to the front of the bridge. It extended a docking collar to the transparisteel window, then set its array of plasma cutters to work. Riene found the display almost beautiful: the sizzling beams cast light and sparks behind the clear barrier.

Fleet jumping to rendezvous point, Chief Marshal,” Danab reported.

Recalling an earlier concern, Riene checked a sensor display to see when the terrorist escort fleet would arrive. Sure enough, it would arrive within moments. “We'll see you there, Admiral. Be advised of enemy contacts inbound... if you're going to jump, do it quickly.”

Just as the section of transparisteel window came away under the assault of the fusion cutters, the Imperial fleet leaped into hyperspace. Even the two ships that had been disabled by ion cannon fire earlier in the battle had at least managed to get their hyperdrive systems functioning.

The shuttle hatch opened; streams of Stormtroopers filed inside. The wounded sergeant and corporal were carried in first, while the dead trooper was the last one aboard before Riene. She took one last look around the bridge of the Viscount-class ship. The deck was littered with carnage. Republic carnage. Enemy carnage. The best way to begin a war, she mused.

And with that, she boarded the shuttle. The hatch closed behind her and the assault ship pulled away. She could hear the faint whisper of escaping air as the torrent washed against the hull. The Republic command ship was now an airless tomb. Satisfied with the mission outcome, Riene made her way to the cockpit, thoughts of how best to celebrate dancing in her head.
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Ams Jendob
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 Post Posted: Sat, April 03rd 2010 03:33am    Post subject:
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As the shuttle vanished into the realm of hyperspace, the New Republic escort force dropped into realspace. Almost immediately, intense long-range jamming issued from the Spirit of Alderaan. The confusion of the ship captains turned to abject horror as the weapon batteries of the massive ship opened up, ripping into the escort cruisers.

As pleas and oft-stated IFF codes fell on deaf ears, the ship commanders made the decision to use deadly force. For an hour, turbolasers and proton torpedoes tore into the massive ship... but as the hull breaches grew, the numbers of the escort fleet became fewer. Ultimately, with the escort fleet reduced to a single, burning MC90 Star Cruiser, the surviving bridge crew resolved to end the threat of the seemingly berserker Viscount with the last weapon they had: their ship.

The MC90 slammed through the battle-damaged command ship. The lesser vessel's detonation shattered the weakened structure of the Spirit of Alderaan, setting off its main reactors. The seventeen-thousand meter leviathan silently dissolved into flaming debris. Where once two fleets met in battle, only twisted metal, rapidly-cooling plasma, and frozen bodies remained.
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