The unmistakable vibrations of hundreds of ships exiting from Hyperspace resounded throughout the cold void of space. Mandalorian ships, ranging from the newly produced to the ancient and ancestral joined together in a paradoxically massive, yet minuscule conglomeration that could barely be called a fleet. At the head, the simple and unmistakable shape of the Kal be Dar'vod lead the nascent forces.
In the distance was their prize, their targets. Two massive and archaic space stations each of a country spanning size held in the distance, their mushroom-like shapes only illuminated by the red giant they had orbited for thousands of years. Each station held hundreds, if not thousands of ships, each colossal in its own right. Kal Skirata aboard his ship could recognize a few, some of the most powerful vessels ever created in the galaxy all docked conveniently in this one location.
Mandalorian cruisers, Jehavey'ir-type assault ships, Kyramud-type battleships, even a seemingly impossible number of Kandosii-type dreadnaughts, and that was just what he could see with the naked eye. Who knew how many smaller ship types they had docked, or how many bigger ones they just didn't see because of the angle. Kal looked over to his sons and the Twi'lek that was brought along for this assignment, awe as clear in their demeanor as it was his.
"The last time I saw these many ships in one place was Kamino, the day we first deployed…" Commando Coor said as he removed his helmet, shock and awe apparent on his face. "A force the size of an entire navy, all in one place, all here…"
"How the hell are we gonna get inside Pa?" Darman asked his father, his helmet still locked in place.
"We'll divide the force, I'll have Wad'e Tay'haai lead half and I'll lead the other. Should be about 250 men between us both." Kal said, looking at the mountains of steel and weapons in the distance.
"Only 250 men? It's gonna take us years to get through this with numbers like that, Pa." Fi responded.
"You ain't thinking with your head, boy. This is a clear and secure mission, and we aren't taking a town, we're taking a space station. Stations have command centers, once we get those under control our jobs will be done and we can send in the civvies." Kal responded, hefting his blaster rifle over his shoulder. "Now, which one of these puppies do you wanna go into, 1 or 2?"
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The Kal be Dar'vod alongside 25 separate ships slowly made their way to the massive channels of boarding entrances scattered across the hundreds of kilometer-sized space station. The ancient, grey metal of the vast exterior embraced the ships in a cold welcoming grasp. Kom'rk-class fighter/transports spun around to meet airlocks while the larger transports waited for the soldiers inside to open the massive hanger doors all around the vessel. The Kal be Dar'vod performed a similar action to its much smaller Kom'rk brethren, spinning vertically to attach the ship's airlock to its ancient mirror.
As the massive electro-magnets of the corvette attached the ship to the exterior of the station with a jitter, the men aboard prepared themselves, loading weapons and readying for anything and everything that could attack inside the station. All except for Sana Jurmar, the young Twi'lek shaking nervously, sitting on a bench while she watched the Commandos readying for combat. Kal Skirata met her fear, looking at her underneath his helm.
"Kid, listen to me." The old man pleaded calmly, placing his hand on the shoulder of the Twi'lek, almost causing her to jump out of her skin. "No matter what happens in there, understand this. I will protect you. Your life has been put in my hands, and I fully intend on getting you back home in one piece. I will do whatever is necessary to protect you, and so will my sons. Remember what I said back on Mandalore, Sana?"
Sana looked up at him, helmet on her lap, her long lanky arms wrapped tightly around the beskar headwear. "That, we are Mandalorians?"
Kal nodded. "And Mandalorians cherish and protect their family and clan, above all else. Even our own lives. Understand that I will let no harm meet you." Kal shook the Twi'leks shoulder slightly before getting up and picking his blaster rifle up off of the ground. "Now, let's get that helmet on and get going. We have a long journey ahead of us. And by the way, you should probably take this."
Kal withdrew a blaster pistol from one of his holsters, an old worn but still functional and obviously deadly DL-18 blaster pistol. "You know how to shoot a gun, right?" Sana nodded in response. "Good, I doubt your armor has any extra weapons in it seeing how old it is as well, so this is your insurance, if I'm not around to protect you for any reason and you're in danger, don't be afraid to use it, ok?"
"Yes." Sana replied simply.
"Good." Kal then called over to Atin, asking him if the airlock was sealed and ready to enter. Right after the Commando responded in the affirmative, the metallic airlock opened and the men slowly made their way into the vast darkness of the ship.
Plastoid and beskar boots echoed as they stepped on metal not seen by living eyes for millennia, footsteps echoing in the pitch black, any attempt at silence being wasted by the sheer deafening silence that crawled at the soldiers' edge of being. As they did so, they activated their night vision built into their helmets, the Twi'lek civvie alongside them instinctually doing the same.
"Squads one and two will be meeting us at this 4-way corridor, from there we will make our way to hanger bays 2 and 3 to let the speeders in." Kal said to his sons, the clones nodding in response as they filed behind him in a line. As they made their way to the junction, 2 squads of 10 Mandalorian warriors entered and met the soldiers in the connecting room, ancient crates and boxes filling the area.
The leader of the first squad spoke up as they neared his commander as they entered the room.
"Commander Skirata, nothing to report, this station is dead. Nothing here is online just like the scans indicated." The Sergeant spoke, his tone slightly annoyed at the lack of promised action.
"Can't say that too soon, soldier, now, let's get a move on, we need to get the hanger doors open…" Kal trailed off as his night-vision met a strange, alien distortion in the rafters above their heads and far into the north-facing hallway, like a strange ghost made of light-reflecting material, it messed with the infra-red vision of the Mandalorian's helmet and caused the aging warrior's eyes to hurt just to look at it. But he knew he had to keep an eye on it, if it was just a glitch with his half-as-old as he was helmet systems like he was hoping, it would resolve soon, but if it wasn't, they'd have some real trouble on their hands.
The Mando stared as the man in front of him continued to talk, what felt like hours passed by as he stared at the dizzying shape of the ghost in the rafters. But then he saw it, pulling something off of its back, the ghost seemed to aim down some sort of scoped weapon, and in a blink of an eye, Kal heard the sound of an utterly alien weapon firing.
A soft but noticeable, alien crack made itself known as it all hit Kal in an instant alongside a flash of blue light. This was an ambush, and they walked straight into it. Coming back to reality he saw the man in front of him falling to the floor dead, a massive hole in his neck virtually decapitating him. Kal only had enough time to scream to warn the men around him of the trap that was just sprung before a hail of strange and utterly alien weapon fire fell upon them.
Running to cover, his men and the remaining men of the two squads they were made to meet ran to cover behind the dura-steel boxes and containers strung around the central room, being careful to not face anywhere near the open halls of the station. At first, the fire was simple, laser-like beams of silent and deadly light that had killed the squad leader, their wielders somewhere up in the station's ancient rafters and vents firing blue beams of silent death down upon them, wearing cloaks that scrambled even their advanced visual sensors making the targets incredibly hard to fire back against.
Then came the disks, the goddamn disks. Small, shiney shuriken like disks of death began to rain down upon the Mandalorians rapidly. Some embedding themselves in the crates they sheltered behind, others jamming in the beskar armor of those Kal found himself fighting beside, and others still cutting deep into the exposed areas of his men's bodies, severing limbs and spilling gore and blood all over the ancient floor.
The only good thing about this sudden shit-storm was at least the attackers wielding the guns that spat this form of metal death made themselves known. Clad in hot pink and deep blue armor, they ran between cover with the speed and agility of Jedi, only a few being hit by the combined blaster fire of the combined Mandalorian defense.
Kal recognized the tactics these unknown attackers were using immediately, the snipers were keeping their heads down and the nimble troops were rapidly approaching to cut them down while they were unprepared. A wise strategy, but not one impossible to defeat, especially for warriors of their caliber. Ordering a section of the first squad up, the True Mandalorian leader ordered the men to fire their jetpack-mounted rockets at the rafters on all four sides of their enemies, having the rockets track the visual anomalies. Obeying without hesitation, the Mandalorians stood up, a few getting cut down by the incoming shuriken fire, but most managing to get the rockets off without much of a hitch.
The rockets detonated on impact, some managing to hit their targets directly, blowing the strange-ghost-like enemies into piles of blood and meat, others hitting the rafters they were perched on, causing the enemy to fall at least 20 feet to the ground. Miraculously, some of the visual anomalies rebounded completely from the fall, like cats falling from a high place. As they did so, the soldiers in the hot pink and blue armor redoubled their attack after losing their much-needed sniper support, firing hails of molecule thin death upon their new foes. However, this was a mistake on their end.
Deploying their DC-17m Blaster Rifles in sniper configuration, the Clone Commandos who joined the Mandalorians fired blue bolts of death of their own, much to the same success of their attackers. Alien mesh armor broke and burned as super-heated bolts of Tabana gas cut through their armor and into their heads and chests, the soldiers dropping as quickly as they arrived. Using the Commandos to much the same effect as these unknown soldiers had used their own snipers, using their superior mobility courtesy of their jetpacks to get closer to the covering soldiers, firing bolts of red plasma at their enemies when at point blank range.
As Kal observed his men execute the hapless attackers, he felt a rush of air as out of nowhere one of the snipers had closed the distance with him and his commandos, wielding a shimmering knife in place of the rifle she lost in her fall. Volting back with the aid of his jetpack, Kal withdrew his own blade, a sheathed vibro-dagger, buzzing to life with super-sonic vibrations.
Running at him with the speed of a Jedi, the strangely elven-like being cut the distance quickly and effectively, only missing her strike at the Mandalorian's throat by an inch as he blocked the blow using one of his beskar vambraces, the eldrich, orange glowing blade slowly heating the metal to a dull glow. Pulling away from the alien woman, her cloak of light-refracting fabric billowing in the current of battle, the Mandalorian activated his wrist-mounted flame thrower, burning the cloak and causing it to short-circuit, revealing the full form of his attacker.
"Well, if you weren't trying to kill me I might have called you beautiful." The Mandalorian said as he held his dagger in a battle-ready stance. In response, the sleek, proportional form of the Aeldari woman attacking him spat at him in some language he didn't even pretend to understand.
"If that's a date, your paying the tab, miss." The alien attacker charged again, her reflexes a match to the Mandalorian's gadgets and technology. Firing his blaster at the closing attacker, the strange woman dodged the relatively slow-moving bolts of red energy before meeting her blade against the enemy again, this time again the Mandalorian managing to block the attack by using his armor. In return, the Mandalorian attempted an attack of his own, nicking the plated blue mesh armor of his attacker, rich red blood spilling onto the floor.
Enraged, the alien tackled the Mandalorian, forcing him to the ground as she tried to force her blade deep into Kal Skirata's chest. A fatal mistake. While the woman attempted to shove the blade deep into the Mandalorians heart, all he had to do is aim his vambrace towards the head of his attacker and activate the trigger. In an instant a bolt of hot, yellow plasma exited the barrel of his backup wrist blaster and into the head of his attacker, the smell of vaporized blood filling the air as the helmet lenses of his attacker went dark, the woman falling to the floor dead.
Pushing the body of the woman off of himself and standing back up, the man got to see what was left of the two squads designated to meet here mop up the rest of the attackers, the hot pink and blue of the attackers now pelted in blaster holes and burns, all of them laying dead. Overall, they lost 9 men in the attack, most of whom came from Squad 1, the first including their sergeant.
Sighing deeply and swearing to himself, the Mandalorian called the remains of his men back over to the central room, hiding behind cover yet again as they discussed what just happened.