Yavin'U Ansut ducked down behind the waist-high crate. They had been placed here as if somebody was expecting a fight to break out, the defenders and the attackers each set up at the end of the warehouse.
There wouldn't be any police coming, the monthly bribes took care of that problem. Now, they were left to wage war, or rather wage skirmish in the tiny little corner of Coruscant that was the base of Tanuk'I's operation. The police very likely wouldn't be so complacent if they knew that the last of the Republic's loyalist Black Market leaders was about to die. Once he did, all of the ones left were going to be Outer Rim loyalists, them having replaced the leadership over the past few months.
Given that the Jedi, Republic leadership, and police didn't really care about who was the Black Market bosses, gang bosses or anything connected to the underworld, except for the fact that it existed in some kind of nebulous manner in their minds. For those of the underworld, it was very much a situation of new bosses, same as the old bosses. For the SDF and the Caretakers, it was a matter of creating an opening for them to infiltrate Coruscant via legitimate sources. Or rather sources that didn't involve cheating with teleporters, the Caretakers wanted to play by the rules, for now, it was much more fun that way.
In that vein, subverting the Black Market leadership was possible but it was also rather boring. The Minds had decided that they might as well do it properly, some nice poses, some waist high cover, inspiration quotes, gunfights, and explosions.
They wanted it to be done "properly" and the carefully cultivated leadership formed by the SDF and their training regime. Each one had a false background established, dropped into Coruscant and tasked with ascending the crime hierarchy until they ruled the leadership, like lords of their own little estates on Coruscant. It would be a painful journey, filled with death, suffering, prostitutes and the occasional explosion, which made it prime entertainment for the Minds. It was like watching a reality show of a tiny little insignificant organic rises up to become one of the biggest powerhouses one the planet.
The SDF was using it as a means of understanding the conditioning that their recruits needed to go through and were adjusting the difficulty of their training courses accordingly. It was not merely combat training that they went through but also infiltration. Those that qualified were of course, the best available and the most stable, able to maintain their loyalty (they didn't know the Minds could simply reprogram them at will).
It had been an entire year and finally the work was coming to a head, for the Black Market infiltrators that is. For the larger organizations, the gangs and what remained of the Hutt network (the Hutts themselves, as an entire race had been wiped out), it would be a bit longer. There was no point heading in and shooting everyone to take power, they were needed to maintain the links that allowed a criminal organization to function. Killing them off was a very bad idea.
Best to keep the killing to the loyalists and the small faction that surrounded the primary target. In this case the personal bodyguards and those fanatically loyal.
Yavin'U had moved in, with enough men to make it clear that there was a challenge for leadership, but not too much to make it clear that it was also a sign of weakness. A leader needed to be able to fight his own battles after all. Neither could he bring too little, an insult that the other side wasn't worth fighting properly.
A delicate balancing game of respect that dictated whether or not one was worthy of being notified of death or simply killed on the spot.
He had mastered it as part of his training, using it to great effect to move up the ladder and usurp the more established leadership. While they had been wary of the newbie, the manner in which they accomplished their work i.e. killing things, extorting things, exploding things, was enough to have them become accepted rather quickly. It helped when those that were vocal about their untrustworthiness were killed off rather quickly. The fact that the law enforcement or any organization other than theirs had no ties to the new members helped their acceptance.
Yavin'U had spent a year moving through the various levels of the organization, ensuring a sense of trustworthiness was established and finally was ready to take over.
An aircar had arrived, dropping off the 8 of them into the bowels of Tanuk'I's loading dock. The group was loaded to engage, their presence had been broadcast beforehand, any who stayed were loyalists and to be engaged on sight.
They walked down, the need for words useless. But they also had to be said anyway, it was a tradition at this point.
"You picked the wrong place to start a fight Yavin, this is Tanuk territory." Was a particularly memorable one, it being the first one. Spoken by a human, one who was dressed very… creatively. His body was covered by a vest, nothing strange true, only it was covered in what looked like metal bars, fitted into the vest via stitching and… plastic cord. It was rather strange, funny and disturbing. Perhaps he actually thought that it would protect him from blaster fire? Only it would upon impact create spalling which would perforate him with molten metal.
"Last chance, stand here and die or leave now. I'm giving all of you this chance." Again, redundant, but it was something that had to be done for the respect it gave if nothing else.
"Wrong answer Yavin." Said the human.
"No, wait. You got it the wrong way around. I'm supposed to say 'wrong answer', you're meant to say 'I can't do that Yavin.' Dammit man, you messed up this entire fucking exchange, did you not read your fucking lines?" Yavin'U said, his words stressed to the man emphasize exactly how much he had screwed up.
"Fuck man, it's my first time. Shit, do you want to do this again?" He asked, face contrite.
"No fuck. It's too late for that, let's just get this started ok?" Yavin'U said voice tired.
"Sorry man."
"It's k. Fuck the timing's all off. Ok, you ready?" He asked, lifting his Blaster pistol to emphasize his point.
"Yeah I'm ready, on 3?" The man asked.
"Ok."
"3" "3"
"2" PEW
Yavin lowered his blaster. Yes, there were rules but there was also common sense, they were criminals if they actually fought each other on countdowns, there was no hope for the organization.
Behind him the other members of his group, SDF trained the lot of them raised their own blasters and wiped out the guards in the entrance. The group of them moved in, there would be no words now until the final fight where they would affirm their eternal differences, that one of them needed to die, etc etc. It was all very dramatic but custom dictated that it be done to preserve the integrity of the… whatever it is that dictated they needed to follow this custom with a takeover.
Yavin'U didn't care, Yavin'U was just going to kill the Tanuk and take over operations. He was operating on a tight schedule, the first phase of the SDF's plan to destabilize the Republic was already under way and they needed to have an entrance into Coruscant. He had a week before they arrived and it would take a week for him to work out how to create the hole in the security in the first place. Fail and the team was captured or killed, a potentially catastrophic failure.
So here he was. As blaster bolts came down the corridor at him, his training kicked in and he ducked down, behind the conveniently placed durasteel crate, that was also waist high. Blaster in hand, he popped his head over, identified the target and popped back down. The blaster was primed to burst-fire, a simple pop up, a controlled swing of the blaster, left to right, and they were dead. 2 gunners, 3 shots, 2 dead gunners, 2 more meatshields.
Yavin'U grinned savagely, as much as he was a professional, he still enjoyed his job. Being able to end people was always enjoyable, the SDF didn't so much as instill this mentality but rather shaped it. He derived even greater pleasure from ending the enemies of the SDF and accomplishing the goals laid out. Their conditioning very carefully managed until it became like an addiction. Not perhaps the nicest thing to do, but it made for very effective operatives.
He continued through the facility, popping off his blaster at the targets that presented themselves, the SDF teams behind him protecting his rear and his flank. As the new challenger it was expected that he be in the lead of any challenge, even if it was a bit stupid in the long run.
He gave a shake of his head, blaster still in hand, smoking corpses marking the way he needed to go. At the end would be Tanuk and he could finally relax. It had been a harsh year so far, the push they had made up the leadership chain was a stress in and of itself, to have themselves liable to die at any moment only made it worse. Add in psychotic bosses who had the common sense of a flea certainly did not help, their attempts at doing literally anything possibly resulting in their deaths.
There was a boss he recognized, the idiot had wanted him to run drugs straight past a Senatorial Guard outpost into the Senate itself. There were limits and while he did manage to sneak in and deliver the drugs to the addled Senator, it had been a very close call with a car chase at the end. It had not endeared the idiot to him and seeing him here made Yavin'U grin. He aimed down the sight and blew the man's legs off when he stood up, Blaster machine gun ready to gun down Yavin'U himself. As he lay on the ground, screaming, his hands gripping the stumps that were his thighs, Yavin'U took the chance for some melodrama.
"Let's see how fast you run now piggy. Mmmmm?" He gloated, standing over the man before walking away. He would die of shock and blood loss, likely he didn't even know why Yavin'U had killed him in such a brutal manner. The man was certainly not a paragon of intelligence. Indeed calling him intelligent would be an insult to all intelligent people everywhere. That being said, Tanuk's followers were not exactly intelligent either, their laxity allowing him to claw up the leadership chain on his own, unlike the others who needed an entire team.
Yavin'U continued his trek, straight into a large warehouse that was clearly the final stand judging by the presence of Tanuk.
He grinned.
"Ready to die Tanuk?"
"Hah, you picked the wrong boss Yavin, I always knew you were a bad one."
"Better than you Tanuk, how much have profits risen while I was here exactly?"
"Hah, it was all me you traitor, should have never taken you under my wing."
"Taken under your wing? Hah, pull the other one. Did everything on my own Tanuk, you, if anything tried to drag me back."
"Well, it's too late to reconcile, just fucking die."
Signal set. Tanuk brings out his big rotary cannon, a relic from the beginning of the war. Yavin'U unfortunately for Tanuk had spent a year inside the SDF training camps, his response being an instinctual throw of a Thermal Detonator at the man. As he ducked down, the bright light that indicated that the Detonator had successfully gone off, burned itself into his retinas.
The ones around Tanuk were dead, those that were further away shellshocked. Yavin'U grinned as he finished them off, it had been rather anti-climatic but it was to be expected with the level of the black market members.
As the ones loyal to Yavin'U arrived and began to clear out the bodies, he took the chance to lean back in Tanuk's old chair and relax for a moment. His mission would come after he had a little break, like checking what kinky porn Tanuk had on his computers.
Yes, a worthy time investment indeed.
After Activation 1121 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1082 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 095-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 24 BBY - Star Wars Universe
"OK! LISTEN UP YOU PUKES! YOU ARE HERE TO LEARN HOW TO BE THE BEST DAMN TANKERS THE GALAXY HAS EVER SEEN! YOU ARE PATHETIC LITTLE SHITS AND IT'S GOING TO TAKE SOME WORK, BUT GODDAMN IF I WON'T MAKE TANKERS OUT OF YOU!"
Screamshouted the Drill sergeant as he walked up and down the assembled recruits. All 100 of them assembled in front of him.
"YOU STAND BEFORE ME TODAY LOOKING LIKE THE GREENEST FUCKING GRASS THIS SIDE OF MY ASSHOLE. JOIN THE TANKERS THEY SAID, SEXIEST MEN ON EARTH THEY SAID. WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT? THEY WERE FUCKING WRONG! ALL I SEE ARE DISGUSTING PUKES."
He continued, spraying them with spittle. He was a human, his face resembling something like a rectangle, square jaw, angled features and a heavyset face. His cheekbones were prominent, sharp angles on his face with bright white teeth. On his head, he wore a hat that looked as if it were made of fabric, wide brimmed with curves on the top, yet it looked solid. For the clothing it was all fabric, no Clone Armour, indeed the Drill Sergeant didn't look like a clone at all. His skin was black, his head bald of hair, muscles bulging and prominent.
"YOU WANT TO RIDE IN MY TANKS, SHOOTING MY GUNS AND PICK UP THE LADIES? WELL, I GOT NEWS FOR YOU SUNSHINE. YOU HAVE TO PASS THROUGH ME IF YOU WANT TO RIDE IN MY FUCKING TANK. YOU HAVE TO SATISFY ME IF YOU WANT TO BE WORTH SOMETHING. AND RIGHT NOW YOU PUKES DON'T LOOK LIKE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES. BUT DON'T WORRY SHITSTAINS, I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU WORTHY, EVEN IF I HAVE TO KICK YOU OVER THE FINISH LINE! NOW DROP AND GIVE ME 50!"
The Grand Army was growing, no longer would it accept just Clones but now were accepting citizens of the Republic within its ranks. While the standard trooper position and more… "expendable" positions were Clone filled, the citizens of the Republic would instead fill another role. The armoured corps had undergone some very dramatic changes, and the new recruits would fill the gap between the Kaminoan Clones and the Flash Clones.
They would be taught the art of leadership and how to use their natural initiative in order to better lead the Clones placed under their command. Filling the temporary gap that was causing issues for the Republic. With the new vehicle types came a need for Commanders who were able to react quickly, make decisions on the fly, and willing to take risks.
Only the most capable would be accepted, of course, the rest sent back to where they had been picked up from. While they needed Commanders, they needed competent Commanders above all else. To that end, each needed to be able to shoot as well as a Kaminoan Clone, march as far as a Clone, carry the weight of a Clone, perform maintenance tasks to the same standard as a Clone, treat wounds…, etc.
In essence, they were going to be infantry qualified before anything else, in the highly likely event their vehicle was disabled, they needed to be able to perform outside of it and not drag down their crews. At the same time they were also learning each and every part of their vehicles, being able to perform each and every bit of maintenance, able to crew every position, and if necessary, take apart the vehicle from scratch, and reassemble it as good as new.
They would know every single tiny bit of their vehicles by the time they graduated, able to fully utilize their vehicles to the peak of effectiveness, a terror amongst Droids.
To that end, they were here at the training camp. Wilting under the gazes and belittlement of the Drill Sergeants as they were torn apart and remade into something worthy of their vehicles. The camp would teach them over 18 weeks how to be commanders, the Drill Sergeants would make them into soldiers. They would hate them with every fibre of their being, but would come out the other side ready to fight in the largest war in recorded Galactic history, and emerge out the other side alive and heroes.
Assuming they passed at all that was.
"COME ON MAGGOTS. IS THIS REALLY THE BEST YOU HAVE? LAUGHABLE YOU PUKES. FUCKING LAUGHABLE!"
Spittle sprayed over them, the recruits were trying to crawl through a maze, only it being made difficult by the instructors who were taking great pleasure in dumping buckets of goo, blood, and other unmentionables. Crawling through mud, water and who knew what else.
"FASTER MAGGOTS. THE DROIDS DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU WANT TO CRY TO YOUR MOMMY. YOU WANT TO GO HOME? THEN FUCKING GO! RUN YOU FUCKS RUN!"
"Gunner! 2 O'Clock High Tank! Driver Serpentine, left forward! Fire at Will!" Came the shout. The Commander screaming into his headset. The Flash Clones in the practice tank followed the orders, their bodies moving with an efficiency that only hypnotherapy could bring. The gunner rotated the turret to the right at the angle indicated while the barrel angled itself up. The Driver meanwhile turned the steering wheel and pushed in the accelerator with his foot, the tank jerking as the acceleration of the tank moving from a stop combined with the tank rocking back on its tracks as it did so, knocking them back slightly.
Gun went up, gunner then pulled the trigger on his own control mechanism, a wheel that looked like a steering wheel but with a little trigger on the right hand.
"Hit! Target destroyed. Gunner target 1 O'Clock High! APC! Loader AP! Driver Forward Fast!" The Commander called out again.
"Loading!" Said the Loader. Scrambling behind him to the rack that extended out the rear of the turret. Inside were the physical shells to be loaded, the gun in this particular model was a physical one using specialized munitions designed to penetrate Droid armour. Pulling back the sliding door that protected the crew compartment from ammunition flare ups if hit, wet ammunition storage kept them all alive. Pulling out a shell, ramming closed the sliding door, placing the shell into the breech, shoving it forward with the hand, keeping the hand clear as the breech slammed shut automatically. Sitting back down once the shell was loaded properly.
"Traversing!" Shouted the gunner. Pushing the right hand would turn the turret right, pushing the left hand forward would turn it left. If needed there was a crank to his left side which allowed the turret to traverse manually if needed and a crank on the right would elevate the gun. The entire tank jerked as the gun fired.
"Round Up!" Finished the Loader.
"Firing!" The Gunner said. Pulling the trigger on the right stick.
"Round Out!" The tank shuddered again as the main gun fired again.
"Gunner! Target 3 O'Clock Low Tank! Fire At Will! Loader AP! Driver 2 O'Clock!" The Commander shouted! The Droids just kept coming. There were too damn many of them. Kill one and 3 more took its place. Fuck fuck.
A shudder ran through the tank as it was hit by a shell on the left side. A second shudder followed soon after before a third and a fourth.
"Gunner! Targets 9 O'Clock! Fire! Fire! Fucking Fire!" He screamed again.
An alarm rang out as the systems began taking catastrophic damage. The turret was disabled, the left track, the right track, the engine. So many small things that were adding up. Fuck Fuck.
Then a Klaxon blared.
"Fail." Came the voice over the speaker. The speaker drawing out his words with almost contemptuous boredom.
The Recruit Commander banged his head against the periscope in front of him, mashing his helmet into his face as he sighed. "Fuck."
Sitting up he resolved himself to facing the music, no doubt the critique would be legendary. As it was for everyone else that failed the simulation.
He climbed out of the turret, the hatch directly above him. Pulling himself over the lip and in front of the Instructors, he clambered down the sides and saluted.
"Why did he fail." Asked the instructor to the rest of the class.
"He wasn't fast enough!"
"Did not keep track of the of the left flank!"
"Did not…"
"Did not…"
The criticisms came hard and fast, doing it slowly was an invitation for the instructors to bawl at you. As they spoke, however, his face was slowly becoming more and more red. They had fucked up… again.
"WRONG YOU PUKES. DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A FUCKING GAME? DID YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST FUCKING ROLL UP AND TAKE ON THE DROID ARMY ON YOUR OWN? DID YOU FUCKING THINK AT ALL YOU SACKS OF SHIT?"
He roared.
"ONE FUCKING TANK AGAINST A BATTALION? DID YOU PUKES THINK YOU WERE FUCKING JEDI OR SOME SHIT? IT MUST BE GOOD UP THERE IN THOSE FUCKING CLOUDS YOU SACKS OF DICKS. CLEARLY, WE HAVE BEEN REALLY FUCKING LENIENT, CLEARLY, WE HAVEN'T TAUGHT YOU ANYTHING PROPERLY. CLEARLY, WE NEED TO INTENSIFY OUR FUCKING REGIME."
He leaned forward, dousing each and everyone one of them with an equal display of spittle and ear damage.
"You think that just because you fucks can command a tank, means you know how to fight a war?" He whispered, staring into their eyes. "No? Starting tomorrow we, the instructors are going to be teaching you personally how to command a tank. Right now you are worse than a Clone, when we are done with you, you will be leading Clones. This is you last chance boyos, leave now or suffer."
He took a step back and stared at them. 8 weeks of training, their bodies were now fit enough to meet a Clone in a battle of stamina and strength, their aim was passable, their ability to not die if thrust into a foreign and hostile environment adequate.
Now, they would learn how to command a tank properly. Whilst before they were learning the positions and how to issue commands, now they were going to be learning how to Command. It would be intense, the same physical workouts as before but now with brain melting classes every day on top of it all.
They were graduating, 18 weeks of hell and they were considered to be competent enough to be issued their own vehicles and sent to the front, where the might Clone and Droid armies clashed in a battle that was frankly ridiculous in scale. Each of their tanks merely a single grain in an entire beach worth of sand. But they would bring their own inborn initiative to the war, allowing commanders more flexibility in their plans and hopefully they would rub off on the Clones and they wouldn't be as insanely suicidal. One could hope at any rate.
Of the 300,000 recruits that had been part of the first wave, 120,000 had passed muster. Right now their numbers were pitiful, able to reinforce and assist maybe 5-6 Army Groups, enough for a single concentrated front, but nowhere near enough to reinforce the entire front. Critical areas would receive the reinforcements first, the new vehicle designs themselves being limited in number, their finalization and production blueprints finally being stamped for approval 2 months prior.
In time, the new APC and IFV designs would filter through to the entire Clone Army, but for now, it was only for the most desperate of battlefields.
"YOU FUCKERS ARE GRADUATING NOW. BRINGS A TEAR TO MY EYE IT DOES. LITTLE PUKES THAT COULDN'T EVEN FORCE MARCH 10 KILOMETERS ARE BEING SENT TO THE BATTLEFIELD, IT'S BEAUTIFUL I TELL YOU. YOU BAGS OF TORTUGA DILDOS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME PROUD OUT THERE OR GOD HELP ME, I'LL FIND YOU AND RE-EDUCATE YOU MYSELF. WHEN THEY SEE A 901ST TANK EMBLEM, THOSE CLONES ARE GOING TO KNOW THEIR IN SAFE HANDS." Said the Instructor, a closing address to a torturous 18 weeks.
2 weeks of leave to see their families again and to finish up what business they had, and they would be joining the new transport ships as they left for the front.
After Activation 1122 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1083 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 096-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 25 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Eight was smiling. Where before there was an air of hopelessness about the whole war, their vehicles being inferior to that of the Droids, their armies forced to maintain a defensive posture where they could at least hold their own. The cities and built up areas had played into their strengths and allowed them to resist the Droids, the open fields and rolling hills, on the other hand, had been a death sentence for the last 2 years. Being assigned to an open field was almost the same as being told to go die, the domination of Separatist artillery and their air dominance meant that unless the trenches were dug deep, they were sitting targets, literally in some cases.
Now… now they had their own vehicles, their own aircraft and their own weapons that had been redesigned with a war against the Droids in mind. Eight was happy, the damn Clankers were going to be meeting a revamped and very eager Clone army. They had their 2 years and now the Clones were here to collect the rent.
Oh yes, Eight was very happy indeed. His new weapon was a rifle, only it was shorter than the designer's imaginary penis, no doubt the DC-15 was inflated beyond comprehension. It was around the length of his arm and a little bit extra, protected by a plastic cage that also had a bayonet underneath which allowed him to both knock out a Droid and stun an organic. Underneath the bayonet was a grenade launcher, firing miniaturized Proton explosives, ion grenades, smoke canisters for cover or signalling and non-lethal beanbags where appropriate. While the energy cells and the firing mechanisms were the same, enough had been changed to make it many times more useful in all situations.
Eight was a Lieutenant however and he was allowed certain… liberties in regards to the equipment he was allowed to use. The Blaster Shotgun was handing on his back, a design that fired at the strength of a full powered Blaster shot, but spread out in a cone in front of him. Bringing one of those into a trench or a building and it would live up to the nickname that Clones had bestowed on it, the "Sweeper". Entire Droid squads wiped out in 2 or 3 shots, ragdolled around the area due to the force in which the Sweeper slammed into them.
Right now he was pushing up behind a Tank IFV, they were launching an assault on the Droid lines to their immediate front. The city had been turned to rubble as time went on, the area that contained the Clone and Separatist trenches becoming nothing more than fist sized pieces of concrete piled up high.
Things had changed following the Jedi arriving on the world, Eight had caught sight of a rather short one with lekku and a montral of some kind wearing customized Clone armour. She had been moving down one of the trenches. There had been stories coming from the Clones at the front saying the Jedi were doing something with their magical powers to help take down the Droids. It had been appreciated but there weren't enough of them to do very much in the big picture.
When they had left, the damn Droids had picked up the offensive and were joined by some red skinned aliens that used their abilities against the Clone armies, only going down from the combined fire of over a company's worth of Clones aimed at them. It was ridiculous. Luckily they were reinforced by what looked like humans but wearing… bathrobes.
They fought against what was known as the "Sith", allowing the Clones to fight against the Droids. It had been business as usual, except for the sudden appearance of many times the vehicles they thought the Droids had. It had been touch and go for a while, the Droids crashing into their lines with a fury that Eight hadn't experienced in a long time. The defenders were hard pressed to fight back, their anti-armour capabilities being limited toward missile launchers and laser cannons they pillaged off destroyed Droid tanks. Eight had nearly been sent back to the bacta vats for good this time, a Droid push breaking into the trench and only pushed back by the Clones literally pushing them back.
"Tank! Incoming 11 O'Clock close!"
"Droid Transport 11 O'Clock close!"
"Droid Fighters 3 O'Clock high!"
"Droid…!"
"Droid…!"
Eight ducked his head down, blaster in hand, another magazine coming out of the pouch on his chest. 3 entire magazines spent today, bloody Clankers just kept coming. They were getting entire battalions of reinforcements from the rear lines, hundreds of Clones dying by the hour if the bodies coming down the trenchline were any indication. Explosions shook the earth around him, the trench amplifying the vibrations and shocks that were radiated out from them. Screams of dying Clones, body parts piled up high awaiting a sanitation team to retrieve them, bolts tearing through the air above his head, armour covered in dirt, giving him a beige tinge.
He popped himself back above the trench, the firing step below him giving him the height needed to pop over. Aiming down the sight, pulling the trigger, the Droids going down. Pew Pew Pew, Droid goes down. And another one bites the dust. And another one down, and another one down, another one bites the dust. Gonna get you too, another one bites the dust.
Droid Transport pushing up, looking left and right, no missiles left. Fuck.
Blaster aimed at the front ramp… wait. Fuck.
"Down! Breaching Charges!" He shouts, ducking below the trench. The Clones around him follow. Holding his breath, Eight closes his eyes and waits.
Boom
The charges go off, the opposite side of the trench riddled with shrapnel, the dirt in front showering over them, covering what was still clean with more dirt and dust. Pop back over the lip, meet with blaster bolts coming out of the transport. Damn Droids use it to clear the way for a clean exit, Droids forming up now. Blaster is firing but too much return fire. Droids crashing into the trenchline, fuck. Duck back down, Droids pour over the lip and into the Trench. Pew Pew Pew, fire on the Droids, take down one. 30 more of them left. Fuck.
One goes down, another behind, blaster aimed right at him. Fuck.
Burning, pain. Bolt hit the chest armour. Still alive. Winded. Can't breathe. Need to get up. Droids still inside the trench. How much did I miss. Fuck. Need to get up.
Using all the effort he can muster, Eight lifted his head, trying to get a glimpse on what was happening. It was difficult. Too difficult. A body was below him, his head hanging downward. Couldn't lift.
Explosion. Eight flung to the side, burning sensation in left arm and leg. Thermal Detonator. Body rolls, head on the side now, can see what is happening. Clones pushing up, using bodies to tackle the Droids. Won't let them disperse, force them to remain clumped. Ones behind are shooting, Droids going down. Heh. The Flashies are learning. Good.
Eight had lost consciousness at that part, wounds too much for his body and the monitor inside his chestplate had decided he needed to go to sleep and had injected him with an anesthetic.
When he woke up again, he was on a cot in a nursing area, a bacta salve on the left side of his body and his chest. Ready for duty after another 3 hours. The Droid assault had been relentless but good news came when Eight was rotated out of combat for "special training". He wasn't sure what it was, until they came out and introduced an entirely new line of ships, weapons, and vehicles.
The next 3 months had been spent training with them, learning the ins and outs and then he had been sent back with a division of Clones, some fresh, some from the battlefields of the planet… he should learn its name at some point but he didn't care enough to bother.
And now here he was, following behind an IFV with a tank turret loadout, pushing through the city with APCs and more IFVs following behind. Their artillery, their portable artillery had been pounding the Droids since last night. Being able to say portable artillery was just an amazing feeling. Everything they had before had to be set up, given large shields and then fired at relatively flat angles, their arcs of fire being too low for anything else. Now, however, high angled, physical or plasma munitions, all day every day.
He grinned even harder as the sounds of explosions came from in front, that distinctive crump that came when a shell came down on dirt. The damned Droids were learning what they, the Clones had been living through for years now. Oh yes, this was the life. The IFV was moving slowly enough that he could rest his rifle on the trackguard of the vehicle, aiming at the windows around him. While he wasn't at the front of the convoy, there was still the possibility of an ambush. At the front was an APC armed with a rocket propelled Proton SPG loadout. Or in other words, a fuck-ass huge rocket that when fired would destroy an entire building. It basically took the proton bombs used by the Wedge bombers and hurled those at high velocity into things that were "in the way".
Eight was enjoying this immensely. Being on the attacking side while also being backed up by vehicles and artillery… mmmm. Best feeling ever.
A little flash of movement to his right, swivelling in place, Eight saw a shadow flash into hiding. Where before he would have been forced to send in a squad to see what was going on, them being ambushed, dying from wounds of all types from all angles, him learning nothing… well, now he had a tank. His own tank. Yes. This was a good day.
He pulled open the little latch that protected the phone inside from the elements, a phone that connected directly to the radio-operator inside.
"Outside to inside. Knocking."
"Roger, alive and kicking. What can I do for you?"
"Authorization code for CA-8827 - 91182, Fire Mission, 2 O'Clock, orange building, 3rd floor, 2nd window from the right. Fire HE."
"Confirmed CA-8827, engaging."
"CA-8827 to Convoy, fire mission on marked building, watch for debris." He called over the net, the Clones shifting to the left side of their vehicles. Falling pieces of masonry hurt… or killed.
Eight turned behind and signalled to the platoon following him. 1 squad, clear, secure, report.
They nodded and peeled off to the right, moving towards the building he pointed them towards. Meanwhile, the turret whirred slightly as its electronic motor drove it horizontally then the gun rose up. Oh yes.
Boom
The main gun fired, and the entire front of the 2nd floor burst outward like an angry pimple. Toppling masonry, a jet of dust and smoke, and ejecting what was very clearly a Commando Droid. The squad moved in, breaching in very clear and precise fashion, their rifles crackling as they shot at pre-designated spots where the enemy was most likely hiding. Eight tracked their markers through the walls, they were approaching the second floor now.
"Objective Secured. 3 Missile Launchers, 8 Commando Droids. All non-functional." Called out the Flashie.
"Acknowledged, get back down here and rejoin the convoy." Eight said in return, his grin all over his words.
"Ambush!" Came the cry from up front. Eight turned to the front to see what it was. The building at the T-Junction had come alive, Droids firing from the windows and balconies out front. Several missiles streaked out to impact the APCs and IFVs in the convoy. To no effect, composite armour was such a bitch, Eight grinned.
"Heads down boyos, Demolisher cannon firing." And the grin went even wider.
With a deafening roar as the cannon fired, a loud ripping noise as the rocket ignited and sent it through the air, the shell emerged from the barrel like an angel with its ass on fire. Eight's grin went so wide that it threatened to rip his face in half.
Then it hit the building, caving in the walls, going deeper and deeper, brushing past the brick and concrete like it was nothing, delving into the building like a demented monster. And then it exploded. The entire building simply burst outward. The front half toppling into the street, the Droids flung several kilometers away. Oh yes. Oooooh Yes.
Today was a good day to be a Clone.
After Activation 1122 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1083 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 096-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 25 BBY - Star Wars Universe
The Separatists had increased the intensity of their attacks, the Sith leading them. It turned out that they had been trying to lay low in order to hide from the Cultivators, but now decided to go all out since they had been discovered.
Entire fleets had materialized into existence and were even now ramming themselves against the Grand Army. It was lucky therefore that the Republic had finally begun phasing out the Venator and Acclamator Class Ships in preference for more specialized designs that could stand up to the Separatist ships. Using the Separatist Droid's relative inflexibility, the Grand Navy was going to be using their ships to break into the Droid line fleets and engage them directly.
The ships were designed to look like the Venator Class in broad terms, large wedges but with a tapered point that held the main gun. Much smaller than the Venator at barely even a third of the length, these ships had a very large turbolaser in the nose as well as 60 turbolasers, 30 on each flattened side of the ship. The power from those guns could be re-routed through to the main gun for maximum power while there were approximately 120 smaller laser point defence systems, arranged into groups of 4 on each side. Each Victory Destroyer Class ship, was designed to act as a frontline bruiser due to the extremely thick armour on its front and sides, as well as an escort for the newly designed troop transports and carriers of the fleet.
The Bridge was a marvel of engineering, buried deep within the Victory, the bridge crew was safe from any forms of attack that would not otherwise destroy the ship in its entirety. At the same time, it had many different systems of both digital and manual methods to see out of the ship, from periscope systems to cameras mounted on the surface, the Victory was a sleek dagger-like design that in essence was designed to stab deep into the Separatist fleets and fleet them out.
The Acclamator had been removed from service to be replaced with a Carrier. With only 30 turbolasers on its 1 kilometer length and 600 laser point defences altogether, the carrier was a ship that required Destroyer escort wherever it went. At the same time, it held 300 new WedgeFighters, based on an ancient Aurek Starfighter design, only modernized to fight in a new war. These craft were widened with 4 laser cannons, 2 mounted just before the cockpit and 2 underneath it, opposite their brothers. A single proton torpedo mount in the nose of the craft and an engine designed for a craft 3 times its size. At 12 meters long and 3 meters wide, the Wedge was an extremely fast, extremely agile, and exceedingly dangerous craft with a tiny profile to match.
On the other end of the scale as the 100 Wedge Bombers that replaced 2 of the laser cannons with further photon bombs being mounted underneath. While slower due to the loads it was carrying, it was still extremely fast compared to previous designs. The Wedge Class of attack craft embodies the new philosophy of Grand Army design, interchangeability, quality, cost. It was able to interchange many of its parts with both classes of craft, making maintenance easier and the quartermaster was less likely to tear their hair out over ordnance orders.
It was of a better quality than the Droid comparisons, able to stand up to nearly 6 Droid craft of the same class, moving swiftly around them and engaging in their weak points. In terms of cost, the fact that it was a wedge shape and had very few moving parts compared to its predecessors saw the cost drop comparatively. No shifting wings as in the ARC-170 allowed for it to be produced much more cheaply while the lack of a hyperdrive unlike the, BTL-B Y-wing starfighter drove the cost down even further.
These 2 attack craft in essence, allowed for the Carrier to wield many times its weight in firepower and flexibility on the battlefield. Able to reach out and touch Separatist ships at several times the distance of the Destroyers while at a much lower cost per engagement ratio and while remaining much safer on average. The ship itself was of a rectangular design unlike the standard Republic designs previously, making more use of the space available without as much regard to the need for a more defensive hull due to their reliance on Destroyers to intercept Separatists for them. Big lumbering targets that were vulnerable on their own, but in protective fleets were able to wield firepower many times above what they should have been able to.
The Wedge Class itself was fully capable of atmospheric flight but less maneuverable in it due to their lack of a rudder system to take advantage of air resistance. Rather that task fell to the new Grand Army gunships.
These gunships were designed to provide sustained firepower to assist the Clone ground forces, hovering in the air with enough Electronic Counter Measures (ECM) that only the Mark 1 eyeball would be able to fire upon them. Each would be armed with laser cannons, rocket pods, ion rockets and modular parts for whatever else they were called on to do. Each was extremely cheap to make, relying on physical means of propulsion as opposed to anti-gravity devices like earlier designs. A spinning rotor kept the entire craft airborne, while a second kept it facing in the same direction, a "helicopter" the designers called it. Its reliance on physical methods of propulsion made it extremely cheap to manufacture, the Republic having long since perfected the art of physical machining precision parts.
Indeed, the most expensive part of the new "Pack" Helicopter was the 2 Flash Clone Pilots of each one, their growth cycle costing more than any individual part. Called Pack for their increased ability when deployed as part of a squadron, the Pack helicopters were able to operate in almost any kind of atmosphere, maneuverable enough to dodge incoming fire by jinking it and as fast as the old LAAT designs. The ones that had been deployed already made the Clone Armies very happy indeed, where before they were lacking in the area of heavy air support, the LAAT being too big to effectively support an attack without being struck by dozens of different munitions. With them in the air, a Droid advance was effectively stalled until they massed enough firepower to force them out of the air, their quad-linked AA systems able to knock one out. The problem being that they carried Holo-Missiles that allowed one to fire from behind cover to the target, guided by the gunner. Any notable AA positions that exposed themselves were then destroyed with a retaliation strike.
On the other hand, for an air superiority role, a specialized fighter, the "Wasp" was created. These were barely 5 meters long, had a wingspan of 3 meters and carried 2 laser cannons with photon torpedoes under the wings, designed solely to engage and destroy Separatist atmospheric craft. A swarm of them were able to take down Separatist transport craft if they targeted the vital areas, their numbers allowing them to brute force through. Each was piloted by a single Flash Clone, the design being cheap enough to mass produce to counter the numerical superiority of the Droid craft. Their engines allowed them to effectively hover in the air, a pintle mounted design that allowed them switch between hover and flight modes.
A very interesting design, that allowed the aircraft to act as a poor man's gunship if needed, as well as reduce the space required for runways. Both of these designs were carried aboard the new transport ships designed for the Grand Army. Resembling the Carriers in design, these ships were enormous vessels designed for atmospheric flight as well as being able to drop off its cargo from the void. Each was 1000 meters long and able to hold 50,000 Clones as well as their weapons, ammunition, support vehicles and more equipment. However each was specialized to carry certain loads over others, some of them being designed solely to carry the vehicles of the Grand Army such as the Wasp and Pack as well as the ground vehicles, while others were carrying the Clones. While this did mean that if one was destroyed, a vital component of the invading force was also destroyed, it did mean that the interiors could be specially designed to accommodate the residents.
The troop-transports being loaded with enough drop-pods to send down its entire complement of Clones, in a single Alpha strike, the support vehicles coming in close behind once the landing zone was clear enough to allow their descent. The vehicle-transports were able to launch their entire complement of craft from the ship itself, the entire craft a mobile base. Either launching them from the air or landing and deploying the ground vehicles at the same time. Vast whales of durasteel that allowed the Clone Armies to be both mobile and effective on the battlefield, carrying their support network wherever they went.
In terms of transport, the Clones continued the LAAT tradition and used the same design for both their vehicular transportation needs and their infantry transportation needs. A rather box-like design that was narrow and long, the "Weaver" had a modular cargo bay that once a certain block was locked in, allowed for either the transportation of either infantry or of vehicles, or even both at the same time with the larger variants. The Weaver itself being modular, able to increase its length and carry more modules as necessary. With a speed approximately twice that of the LAAT and capable of limited space travel, the infantry modules being atmospherically locked, meant it was capable of transporting what was necessary from transport in space planetside, if they weren't using the drop-pods (of which there were now vehicular variants).
It had a 2 pintle mounted laser cannons per wing module but very little else in terms of defensive capabilities. Then again, it was designed with the assumption that it would be protected by either the Wasp or the Pack gunship as it was making its runs, no longer would transports rush towards the enemy positions without fire support, entire companies of Clones dying before they even reached the enemy.
The ground vehicles were modular as well, a single design for an Armoured Personnel Carrier or APC, and one for an Infantry Fighting Vehicle or IFV.
These 2 designs formed the base of the entire Clone Army's armoured force. An APC able to swap out the weapon on top as needed, from a Photon missile launcher to a Laser Cannon to a dual linked Blaster as the situation demanded. The interior could be stripped out to carry supplied if necessary, mount 2 hoverbikes to replace the 15 Clones that it usually carried, stripping out the top to add in a mortar, adding in a large gun for an SPG, or even to turn it into a Command center with a full holotable. All of them shared the same parts, armour and maintenance command orders, making them extremely easy to work with for the engineers of the Grand Army. While they did use tracked designs which required intense maintenance after every sortie, they were easier to work with compared to the articulating joints of something like the AT-TE which required massive amounts of work to ensure it didn't topple over in the middle of a battle.
The IFV on the other hand, was not for carrying infantry, it was a pure fighting machine with the barest of crews. Generally supporting a driver, a gunner, a radio-operator, and a Commander, the IFV as with the APC could switch out its turret, add on armour to the side skirts, and reworking the interior for more armour if necessary. Available configurations added a heavy bore tank turret, a heavy repeating laser cannon turret for infantry support, a missile system for a hunter killer role and more as necessary. The IFV essentially forming the "heavy" arm of the Grand Army's armoured presence.
The Grand Army had remodelled itself to be more effective and it was ready for war. The Separatists had been facing the Clones with their ineffective standard equipment prior, but there were now enough to equip multiple Clone Army Groups and they were launching their own offensive. Whereas before they were reduced to playing on the defence, now, with their new vehicles, the Clones were ready to take the fight to the enemy.
After Activation 1125 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1086 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 099-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 28 BBY - Star Wars Universe
They came. From the Galactic rim, punching straight through into the Galaxy, in between the Separatist and Republic front lines, straight into the Outer Rim on the other side. The Yuuzhan Vong had arrived and wanted everyone to know they were here. And they really hated technology. Ready to commit genocide on a galactic scale, plant people with ships that were essentially giant floating bags with people in them.
In all honesty, their plantiness was a major detriment when it came to issues such as surviving blaster bolts. Their abhorrence of technology doing them no favours in a galaxy embroiled in a war of a scale never before seen or experienced. The Vong had stepped in and made themselves enemies of some of the most powerful armies to have ever existed in the galaxy, their numbers, firepower, and troops had been hardened by what was years of all out, brutal war.
The fact that the Yuuzhan Vong had been tricked into coming here by the Caretakers was an issue that they would like nobody to pay attention to. The way that they had shortened space, and also modified the memories of the Vong, so that they assumed the journey was perfectly normal… well, it was good no-one knew they were in the galaxy.
And so the Vong were now standing on the precipice, their craving for war, their belief in their superiority, and their weird masochism would play a very large role in their downfall. In believing that they could fight all 3 factions at once, the Vong had doomed themselves, they just did not know it yet. In the 5 years of war, the Republic, the Confederacy of Independent Systems, and the Outer Rim (renamed to the Outer Reach Territories), had become very good when it came to waging war.
Industry had developed to support it, entire ships able to be built in a matter of hours, vehicles rolling off the assembly lines by the hundred, mere minutes after their construction began. Weapons were coming off the belts at a rate of a few thousand per second, the soldiers who wielded them emerging from their pods in the millions. What they lost in the first year of the war could now be replaced in a matter of weeks.
The CIS on the other hand, had manufacturing systems on the scale of an order of magnitude larger in scale. While they were less capable than the individual units of the Grand Army, they more than made up for it in number. Able to drown their enemies in such a number of Droids, that trying to resist would be akin to fighting against gravity.
The Outer Reach Territories did not have the manpower that the other 2 factions did. Rather, its ability lay in the quality of its soldiers, each many times that of an equivalent in the other armies. Used properly, they were force multipliers that allowed the ORT to engage and destroy enemy formations many times that of their own. Less equipped in terms of vehicles, they relied on careful use of terrain, taking advantage of civilian transport and sneaking into where they weren't supposed to be.
It was into these 3 brick walls that the Yuuzhan Vong crashed themselves, ready for war, not knowing they held plastic forks and spoons to dig into a wall made of masonry.
Especially when all 3 sides had reacted with typical aggression to a new enemy that wanted to pick a fight with all of them. The leaders of the 3 factions had met together and agreed that differences needed to be put aside as they dealt with the interloper. The full might of their militaries necessary to deal with the admittedly enormous fleets that the Vong possessed. Army Groups made of all 3 factions were drawn up and implemented, they would need to work together in order that separate command teams didn't succumb to stupid thoughts. Sending the Droids to die or vice versa would only hurt the overall war effort.
Once they kicked the Vong out of the galaxy, they could once again get back to their petty war, nobody was allowed to kill them other than themselves of course. And these Vong had come along and said they wanted to be doing the killing of everyone. The gall of it. Even the Jedi were annoyed and it took a lot to get the Jedi annoyed.
The Fleets were moving, the Grand Navy with its clones, the Separatist navies with their own Frigate, Cruisers, and transport ships, with the Outer Rim SDF following in their admittedly smaller craft. The SDF had proved itself to be a very dangerous foe in the last 3 years, striking at the Republic and the CIS with impunity, their special units destroying any who had been sent against them. It was something that might have been considered embarrassing if not for the finesse in which they crushed all resistance or bypassed it entirely.
When the SDF was spoken of, it was with fear and respect, the name used to terrify unruly children who refused to behave. Their own ships were based on the ancient Defender Corvette designs. Enough to fit 3 teams of SDF, their equipment and was stealthy enough to fit into the smallest of drop zones and deliver them safe and sound, and more importantly, whole.
The SDF had lost a total of 8 ships in the 3 years they had been raiding the Republic and the Separatists. Striking into the civilian areas and hitting targets of opportunity in the rear lines of the armies.
It was these 3 fleets that were steaming towards to the Yuuzhan Vong, their vast ships, each the size of small moons floating benignly in space. 100 kilometers wide, full of nasty ugly people who may or may not be plant based given their facial features, all of them masochists and liked to implant random organs into themselves, and used bugs as weapons.
Yes. They were as bizarre are the explanation of them posited and the armies of the galaxy would be arrayed against them.
They had first come for the outer worlds, killing, slaughtering all in their path. Their extreme hatred for technology, and the fact that they did not exist in the Force setting them against the inhabitants of the galaxy who had grown used to having air conditioning and being able to live in buildings more than 2 stories tall.
In fact, the fact that the Vong used plants at all to build their structures, weapons, and the like was not strange, what was strange was the fact that only they could do it, and they wanted everyone to live like them. In essence enslaving the entire galaxy to their control.
They had found the Jedi, found that they were full of Force and despised them on the spot, why it was, nobody knew. However given the irrationality of the Yuuzhan Vong and their desire for everyone to live in trees, and the fact that they used bugs as weapons… well, the people of the galaxy did not pay much heed to them. They were interrupting a very important war, and frankly, they were very annoying. A temporary ceasefire had been declared and they would be striking out to engage and destroy the damned things. There was enough annoying things in the galaxy (thankfully the Hutt were extinct), there didn't need to be masochistic hippies as well.
That and their plans for the galaxy were insane, everyone living in plants? No technology? They would have to quite literally kill off quadrillions of people in order for that to work, genocide on a scale never before seen. And they wanted everyone to just go along with it? Were they insane?
They even acted as if it were something to be proud of, standing before the Senate in the Republic, outlining their plans and saying "or die." The Republic hardened by 5 years of war had laughed at them, and the Vong representative tried to strike at the Senatorial Guards that stood next to him in anger. His face lighting up a deep blue.
Sadly for him, they were Senatorial Guards, hardened by the constant war they had fought with the SDF who in turn were hunting the Senators they were meant to be protecting. Wars had been fought in the seedy underbelly of Coruscant, weapons meant to be found on the frontline of the Clone War tearing out gouges in the millennia old walls, devastation coming to the unsuspecting native inhabitants of long forgotten communities. It was these hardened and very intolerant Senatorial Guardsmen that the Vong tried to strike, believing himself superior with his… stick.
Trained by the Flash Cloning program in the art of hand to hand combat, the poor plant person found himself smashed into the ground, cracking his skull. The stick turned out to be some kind of serpent like thing that could harden, and soften at will, when its head was stomped on, it died thankfully. The representative had been thrown into prison and the Republic prepared for war, the Vong were insane and frankly, they had proven themselves to be less than rational.
On the Separatist side, the Vong had not even tried to enter negotiations before their bodies fell into writing frothing masses of anger and hatred. The Droids were here, they said. The Droids! They tried to fight off the Droids, attacking them wildly in their anger. Sadly for them, the Separatists were in orbit with 500,000 more Droids, all deployed via Drop-pod. Even with their ampistaffs, the Yuuzhan Vong, 50,000 in number could not hope to hold and were wiped out, their refusal to surrender to the "damned Droids" being their undoing.
The Separatists in turn, prepared for war, it seemed the Yuuzhan Vong were intolerant of Droids, something that made the Separatists take a very dim view of them. Nature loving hippies? Not in my galaxy.
The Outer Reach Territories had met the Vong as they pushed into their territory, the SDF waiting and hiding. The Vong had looked upon them and in their most condescending voices had said "join us and you shall be free," as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The ORT didn't take too kindly to their offer and turned from them, walking away from them, refusal implied. The Vong in turn, tried to attack them, reasoning that the "primitives needed to be taught a lesson." Sadly for them, the SDF was ready and after a few limb amputations and being mounted on pikes, the holos of which would be transmitted to the Vong fleets, the craft they came in were boarded and taken over. Further studies were warranted but the Caretakers merely put it aside and designated it as "primitive live ship specimen #88922".
The three factions therefore, met and agreed that these Yuuzhan Vong were… simplistic, foolish, stupid. Attacking an entire galaxy? Wanting them to give up all technology? Killing quadrillions of people so they could fit them in their little hippy communes? No, they needed to go, and they needed to go now.
The fleets were prepared, their armies briefed on their new targets and the Galactic Army was born. The Droids would form the anvil, a vast unyielding force capable of covering entire planets in their mass. The Clones were the hammer, an agile and mobile force, capable of striking at exposed weak points that flattened themselves against the anvil. The SDF were the scalpel, slicing incisions in that would fester and grow into prime targets for the hammer. Excising the points of strength, weakening the entire organism, literally given the Vong were plant people.
They were ready, the Vong needed to be destroyed and their conflicts could be put aside for now, they had a war to win.
After Activation 1125 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1086 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 099-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 28 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Ahsoka sat in the Defender Corvette as it hurtled its way through the Void. The craft being filled with Jedi, SDF, ARC Clones and Droid Mk5 Commandos. There was quite a bit of inherent mistrust between the 3 factions, her master had spent the last 3 years trying to hunt down the SDF as they murdered their way through the Senate. His wife Padme after all, was a Senator, and when the anti-war stance of the dead Senators had been revealed… well, frantic was a very underwhelming description of what Master Anakin was like.
On the subject of Padme, she had given birth last year, something that was very surprising indeed to the Padawan, that her Master was a father, and the children were frankly, prodigiously powerful in the Force. They had been outfitted with tiny little bracelets of their own once they were born, the children would not be made pawns of the Midichlorians.
In regards to finding the SDF, her Master had gone on many a thrilling chase through the Coruscant highways and city, dodging traffic, jumping over impossibly high walls, walking away from explosions while not looking back. In the end, Padme was safe however and her Master had not managed to capture a single SDF member, very impressive on their part.
The Droids on the other hand, were very much untrusted in the same way that new technology was untrusted. These were anti-biological special Droids, armed with flamethrowers, plasma grenades, and radiation guns. Extreme heat, radiation, and massed fire would see them burn and melt their way through the Vong. Or so it was hoped. The specimens they had found were all rather… primitive, relying on armour that grew from leaves or something, very poor at heat mitigation like composite armour was.
The Droids themselves were loyal, splicers had looked at their code and deemed them harmless (to allies, not to the Vong). The Commando Droids were also up-armoured, spaced armour to help defend against the heat based weaponry that the Vong used. It was like Blaster Bolts… yet so much more primitive. Little pockets of molten rock or something equally as absurd. What they felt was immaterial, the things didn't have emotions to begin with and limited independent thought.
The ARC Commandos were naturally distrusting of everyone except the Jedi, their fight had been both against the SDF as they raided the Clone rear lines, and the Droids up close and personal. Memories died hard, and the ACR Clones unlike the Jedi, were immersed in the war and found it hard to shake themselves out of that mindset. Every time an SDF trooper or a Droid came too close they would clutch their weapons a little closer, fingers ready on the trigger.
In regards to the SDF… well, they didn't really care it looked like. Their leader went by the name "Machine" and she was a Twi'Lek that very rarely said anything. They were cautious and quiet around the other factions, but then again… they were cautious and quiet on their own as well. Even when alone together, they would rarely if ever say anything, content to sit, clean their weapons, check their equipment and train their bodies. Indeed, they trained their bodies to the point where it was absurd, the Jedi and the Clones feeling inadequate and trying to keep up with them. Much to their chagrin when they couldn't even handle a third of the training before collapsing into a moaning heap on the floor. The SDF had smiled at that.
Ahsoka spoke for the Jedi when she felt no real apprehensions for either side. The Droids didn't really phase Ahsoka anymore, after 5 years of fighting the thing, she was more than capable of fending them off no matter the circumstances. She was more worried about her Master if she was being honest, he was looking increasingly paranoid regarding the situation that they were in.
The 50 of them (the organics many more Droids) sat around the conference room of the Defender Class corvette. The ship was just shy of 200 meters long, spacious but getting cramped with the amount of equipment that everyone had brought. The Droids with their spare parts, the SDF with their… arsenal. The Clones with their own weapons, tailored for every situation that they might find themselves in. Even the Jedi had baggage, lightsabers were small to be sure but then there was their blasters and survival equipment for extended operations.
That wasn't all either, the ship had multiple weapons lockers throughout it in the event they were unarmed and needed quick access to some death dealers. Every eventuality was covered for and they were making very sure of that. Their mission after all, was carried with it immense risk of… well, complete and utter destruction at the hands of some very annoyed enemies.
"Are we insane, did I wake up into another reality?" Asked Master Kenobi, his face set into a frown.
"What's wrong Obi-Wan, you don't think a mission to board a ship that is a living organism with the ability to grow corridors and passages at will, and extract data or any VIPs we can find. Ignoring the fact of course that we don't even know what their VIPs look like." Said her Master, grinning as he did so.
"It is suicidal." Continued Master Kenobi.
"But necessary. We need intelligence we can work from, and those ships are the best guesses we have regarding their value. Not the biggest bastards like those spiral ships, not the smallest either. Probably a frigate or something like it." Said one of the Clones. "Besides the Shock Armies have already called dibs on crashing their way into one of those Spiral ships, something that big and they don't expect to be boarded?" Finished the Clone next to him.
"So how do we do this?" Asked Master Kenobi.
"With these." Said one of the SDF troopers, lifting up what looked to be a slug thrower.
"We have the advantage in range, however, they hold the advantage in close combat. Their snake staffs have a monomolecular edge to them and can resist lightsaber cuts, let alone Plasma. While they are inferior to a Jedi in direct combat, they are not so crippled in combat against us, the softer mortals. As a result, we have these, while they can block these, doing so will knock them off balance at worst, and break their bones, rupture their organs, and kill them at best. Again, we don't have enough information on exactly how good they are, so carry one of these as backup."
Lifting it up, he looked at them, it looked like a long tubed with a box attached underneath it.
"This baby fires 20mm shells of your choice, buck, slug, beanbag. You name it and the Punisher fires it. Accurate to a range of 100 meters, at 860 meters per second, the Punisher will destroy any and all infantry scale things that need killing. To fire just pump the action and pull the trigger. To reload, just pull out the mag and replace it. They all come with manuals for maintenance."
He finished, grinning broadly at them. The human panting slightly from his explanation and the accompanying demonstration.
Ahsoka and the others in the room stared at him, even the Droids seemed taken aback. A slap to the back of the head by Machine had him looking chastised.
"We will head in following the Caretakers, they will provide the distraction on the at end of the ship, if we insert at the vow, we will be able to avoid most of their forces while also securing the bridge. From the ships we captured, they follow a different design ship - wise. Their bridges are usually in the center of the ship. Remove the Bridge crew and we cripple the ship." Said Machine, her voice dull, monotone in nature.
"If these Caretakers are providing a distraction, why are they not just doing the mission on their own?" Asked a Clone.
The gun maniac grinned, "Because, there won't be anything left when they are done."
Ahsoka sighed, a cramped battle inside a ship with no room to maneuver, her worst nightmare. She was still criminally short and didn't have the leverage or strength that her Master did, she had to use her advantages and that was her size, speed, and agility. A battle inside a spaceship? That negated all of the above. Well, she was Jedi, she would adapt.
The ship was below them, the Galactic Fleet was engaging the Vong, turbo laser fire being traded with… rocks? Regardless, the Galactic Fleet had brought an equal number of ships to engage with a tendril of the Vong fleet, something that meant significantly less when a quarter of the Vong ships were 100 kilometers wide.
Still, they were much less effective than they could have been, their weapons depressingly primitive in nature. The Galactic Fleet merely hung outside of their effective range and pummeled the ships into pulp… literal pulp. It was taking them an absurd amount of time but they were getting there. It was rather lucky they supposed that their ships and combat doctrine had been changed, trying to fight at the previous standard, would have seen them be torn apart.
Fighting at knife distance when the enemy was hurling massive blocks of molten rock at them, or when they had tendrils that stretched dozens of kilometers that looked to be boarding appendages. The entire Vong fleet had been designed it looked like to fight the enemy at close quarters, exactly the same as the Galactic Fleet prior to the Clone Wars. Granted some of the rocks looked like they were being guided... but they were giant rocks, the fifth law of physics still existed, even for plant people. "What is a giant rock and hurtling through space at high speeds, does not wish to change course," or something to that effect.
They also employed a great deal of attack craft, hundreds of thousands of them in some cases from the spiral ships. Again, it was lucky that doctrine and design had changed enough that they were able to fend these off with little effort. The hundreds of point defence turrets created a wall of Flak and Blaster Bolts through which the fragile little creatures the Vong called attack craft needed to pass. Needless to say, their casualties were enormous, thousands being destroyed before they could close in.
If they had stuck to the previous designs of enormous ships with a large number of big guns but very few, if any point defence turrets, it was likely the Galactic Fleet would have lost many times their current count. Their ships open and vulnerable, relying solely on their inadequate number of fighters to fend off countless attack craft. Very lucky indeed.
Further, the Galactic Navy's Ships were many times smaller than their Vong counterparts, packed with an enormous number of guns in a concentrated little ship. As opposed to before, where ships were regularly a kilometer in size with half the number of weapons, these were able to dodge and weave around the outgoing fire coming out from the Vong ships. Their physical projectiles being… slow. Powerful, enormous and devastating… if they managed to even impact in the first place. At the distance at they were fighting at, the Vong's weaponry was… ineffective at best. The Galactic Fleet's ships able to use their point defence weapons systems to shoot down any incoming smaller projectiles while also dodging the larger ones fired from the spiral ships, or shooting them down with turbo lasers, they had the space after all.
There was a particular kind of abnormality that had demonstrated itself around the Vong fleets, weapons fire seemed to get absorbed by the defensive devices used by the Vong. For the smaller ships, it looked as if the defensive abilities were able to be overwhelmed by enough fire, like shields but more total in their defensive capabilities. After the Galactic Fleet worked out the particular resistances of the Vong ships, they in turn, messaged the boarding teams. High command wanted information and they were going to get it, even if they had to shove their most elite infantry into the unknown of the Vong ships. The Spiral ships required more firepower, but with all their escorts destroyed, there was nothing stopping them from standing off at range and pummelling them until the shields did go down. The concentrated fire whittling them down in almost clinical fashion. Poke at them until something happened, record and continue. Areas of interest for the boarding armies to push into and find what was going on.
As it was, the first of the Cruiser ships had been isolated and disabled, the Corvettes dropping out of hyperspace ready to board it, retrieve everything they could and if possible, capture, if not… destroy.
The Worldships would be prey for the Droid and Clone armies, their massive bulks soon to be home to countless Clone and Droid feet.
After Activation 1125 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1086 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 099-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 28 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Ahsoka clenched her teeth, she always hated being in a drop-pod. Being in a drop-pod that was being shot into a giant alien living ship thing that was like 800 meters long. Or something. A giant floating ship monster, what fun.
At least it has tentacles.
No. Bad Ahsoka. Baaad.
Ahsoka thought that she had outgrown that period of her life. It looked like she did not. Bad.
She sighed, gritted her teeth further and prepared herself. The target ship had been disabled and they were heading in hot. Straight into the maw, right into the ship, squish, squish, squish. Ugh.
Inside the breaching pod was 8 Clones, 4 SDF troopers and 20 Droids. While their organics had to be limited in terms of numbers, the Droids on the other hand, could be stacked up in their inactive state, ready to be deployed in the hundreds. The Corvette itself had over 50 of them, where there were SDF quarters, were now storage racks dedicated to housing the inert Droids.
As it was, there were 5 breaching pods heading in, 2 filled to the brim with Droids, the other 3 with a Jedi, Clone, SDF, and Droid mix. The Droids would go in first, their flamethrowers tearing apart the soft interior and anything that they might come across, clearing the way for the organics to come along after. In theory, they would be able to follow in safely after the attack began. Or… as safe as one could go in a boarding action. Those were always fun.
Dropping in from the ceiling, the aliens don't know what is coming for them. They still think that they are safe. No. Never. They are doomed. Forever. FOREVER.
Shwing. Shwoop. Zwip.
Oh noes! Ahsoka, Greatest Jedi of them all. Jedi-Over-Awesomenest-Master has been captured. It's a tentacle! Oh no. Who is going to save Ahsoka from her fate? Is it too late? Oh noes. It has Ahsoka, it's getting under her armour. Is this the end of our plucky heroine?
CTCHUNK
The breaching pod was launched from the Corvette from a holding cell along its flank. A booster ignited at the back and the breaching pod began to accelerate towards the ship that was below them. While they were sitting tangentially to the breaching drill on the front of the pod, the screens hanging from the ceiling of the pod gave them a view of what they were heading down towards. In front of them were the 2 Droid breaching pods, they would impact 5 minutes before Ahsoka's pod. Behind theirs were the 2 other pods, landing in a triangle pattern around the predicted landing site.
Ahsoka closed her eyes and breathed in. This was the worst part of any battle. The entrance. Inside the pod she was helpless, weak, ready to die at any time. If the enemy just looked up and saw her pod, fired on it. Dead. No way to retaliate, no way to dodge, nothing she could do on her own, just trust in the pod's automated systems and maybe, just maybe, they would be good enough.
She thought back to that pod drop on that planet with the city, when they had first met the Cultivators. Dropping all the way down, getting knocked off course, the only reason she survived in the first place was because of the fact that she had hit the building. A drop-pod going upside down into the ground? She would have died and she wouldn't have even known, so fast was it going to hit the ground.
And now they were in space. Sure she had a pressurized suit, but how would that help when she was outside in space, in the depths of space, without anything to protect or help her. Dying slowly as her air ran out, her body slowly freezing before it stopped moving altogether, frozen. She would drift in the depths of space… forever. Her body waiting for someone to pick up, to place in a museum where she would be ogled by random tourists forever.
Ugh.
A shudder ran through her body as the pod landed on the surface of the ship. The plasma cutter underneath began to operate, a series of shudders running through her, her hands becoming numb as they clenched around the bar that held her upper body in place.
Breathe In.
Breathe Out.
Breathe In.
Breathe Out.
Her body was ready. For the Tentacles. No. She was ready to kill some aliens. Apparently, their sticks were able to block lightsabers so she would have to use the Force more or engage them from the flanks.
The shudders stopped. It had cut all the way through. The plasma sheers melting their way in a large cylinder into the ship. There was no indication of what side was up on the ship in the first place, it was going to be a pain to get into, that was for sure.
Breathe In.
Breathe Out.
She sighed. It was time.
The bar lifted up, her body let free. The light above the entrance in the middle glowed red. It would turn green when it cooled down enough for them to walk on it.
Ahsoka ran a last second check on her equipment, the "shotgun" that the SDF recommended was on the small of her back. She would need to use the Force to be able to fire it, it in itself was ridiculously heavy both in weight and kick. Thankfully the Cultivators had taught her how to strengthen her own body, enough to fire the cannon at least. It held a magazine of 5 shells, each a massive slug as big as her hand.
As for her other equipment, she was using her standard loadout, blaster strapped to her side, vest with ammunition, grenades, rations (in case she got stranded), her lightsabers on her stomach, medical equipment, and thermite charges, in case something needed to burn… and fast.
Ok. Everything in place.
Another shudder. The light was orange. Soon. Cool enough for Droids to walk on it, soon cool enough for Ahsoka to walk on it. Ready. Waiting.
Breathe In.
Breathe Out.
Ready.
Ahsoka bared her teeth. The light was green. Time to go and kill some plant people.
The spiral plug that kept them inside and safe opened, its unscrewing action rather unsettling.
And they were out. Ahsoka led the way, her small size meant she could dodge anything waiting for her and allow her to retaliate and clear the space for the ones following behind. Body down low, sprinting forward. Ready.
Force Running, if they were waiting, she would be on them faster than they could react. There probably wouldn't be anyone however, the breaching pod also ejected a pack of explosives down the corridor it had created. Anyone on the other was turned into mush.
Down the corridor, warm. Warm enough to feel through the armour. Lucky she was wearing armour.
Body crouched low. Eyes ahead, clear. Ready.
Ready. Here we go.
She jumped out and rolled, using the Force to search around her. Nothing.
As in literally nothing, voids in the Force. What?
Echolocation was working, thank the Force, 8 figures around her, more on the ground. The ones on the ground and the ones standing up correspond with the voids in the Force. Strange. Still, targets. Ahsoka did a Force Push, and they went down. She grinned, even if they were outside the Force, they weren't outside the air. Push the air, and you push the fools.
Lightsabers on, and awesome time.
Dive over them, spin mid dive, cut off their heads while they are still on the ground. She grinned, oh yes, this was awesome.
Turning around, she leapt back and took down the ones behind her, all 8 of them dead in the time it took to take a breath. She had gotten good at this in the last 3 years. Very good. It was probably wrong of her to enjoy the killing, she was meant to be a young, impressionable young girl. Instead, she was a killing machine, was there anything she couldn't kill? Let me think. Nope. Got nothing.
She grinned before reality came back and she pressed the comnet relay under her helmet. "Masters, the Vong show up as voids in the Force, be careful." She said, alerting them. It would be terrible if they assumed the void meant there was nothing there.
The others came down the molten corridor, aiming their weapons down the fleshy corridor that awaited them. She grinned, it was time.
The Vong came at them, throwing their little bugs and shit. Ahsoka frowned. What the fuck was this shit? Their little guns shot spikes that just bounced off their armour, some of them shot little molten rocks that again… bounced off their armour. One of them threw something that was like jelly at them. It wrapped around the leg of a Clone, like tentacles that crawled up his leg. She was not angry that the tentacles she saw were like acid tentacles rather than… other kinds. She frowned. This… this was disappointing. Very disappointing. The Clone had made it out when the Droids had turned down their flamer intensity and burned it off.
She sighed. Disappointing. These aliens couldn't even provide a proper fight. Sure they could block blaster bolts that were coming their way, twirling their little staffs around. Only when they used the hand cannons… well, things changed. The momentum of their rounds impacted the sticks they were using and the aliens fell to the ground screaming. Their arms shattered.
The others tried to dodge them, but unlike their shitty little spike throwers, these went fast enough to matter, hitting them and rendering large portions of their body to a pile of mush. She frowned. Fucking aliens.
They come, they have tentacles and its the wrong kind of tentacle. What were they? Droids? Fucking disappointing.
Ahsoka fired her shotgun again, racking up another shell. and firing again. The aliens down the corridor being torn apart.
In the first place, it had been a little scary, they had relied on using their acid spit that their sticks could shoot out, some of them had eyes that could shoot them, guns… lots of acid actually. Just standing back a little bit and shooting them out of range was enough to kill them. The aliens… were rather lacking when it came to the ranged department. Just shoot the ones with pouches and that was 90% of the risk gone.
Ahsoka sighed, an alien invasion and they disappointed to the point that it was sad and she wanted to go back to sleep. Was she even needed here?
Ahsoka's team had apparently taken the long way around and were looking at the rear of what was very clearly a scene of devastation, suffering, and gratuitous destruction.
She lightly kicked a head of one of the aliens (it looked even uglier when it died), rolling it back to its body. Or what she presumed was its body. The spaceship was very clearly a carrier of some kind, there were many little things that if you squinted hard enough, could be called ships. The squinting was necessary since none of them were intact, all of them being torn apart, destroyed and in some cases, melting into the floor.
"When you said distraction, this wasn't quite what I was thinking of." Said one of the Clones behind her.
"Well, we did say that when the Caretakers went through a place, they tend not to leave anything behind didn't we?" Asked the SDF trooper to his right, one of their shotguns aimed down at… more burning craft.
"I figured you meant that there were going to lots of Thermal Detonator holes, burn marks, a few dead bodies. This… this looks a little personal." He said, toeing a body over, a body that looked as if someone had picked him up and ripped him in half.
"Yeah, they tend to get very… fanatical when it comes to battle. If you can't put your fist through an enemy, you are too far away. Sometimes you gotta put a fist in just to make sure you are in the correct range. Then there's the ones that think 'if you can't turn the entire area into mush, then you aren't using big enough guns.' Basically, the Caretakers go over the top in everything they do, and it's best to just stay behind them. At least that way you get less alien blood on you."
"I can see that." Said the Clone, shifting his rifle to point at the long ribbons of blood that were painted on the ceiling (100 meters high), and all over the walls.
Ahsoka shook her head.
"Ahsoka do you read me?" Asked her Master over the radio.
"Ahsoka here, I read you." She replied, finger to the button.
"We have the intel, extracting. We won't be able to hijack this thing, get to your pod." He said.
She sighed. Great. "Yes, Master. Exfiltrating. Meet you back on the ship."
"We're already on a ship." He said, no doubt grinning at her.
"You know which one. Ahsoka out." So what if she was petulant, the bloody aliens didn't even have the right tentacles.
After Activation 1125 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1086 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 099-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 28 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Eight knelt down. It was like he was always kneeling somewhere now that he thought about it. Just kneeling, keeping his head down… not dying.
Now that he thought about it, kneeling was probably a good way to go about it, kept him alive for the last 5 years, not about to change anytime soon.
Right now it was less of an issue, the enemy was… rather puny in all honesty. The Clones had come, they had crashed into the spiral ship, boarded it and were now in an action to take it over, the hundreds of thousands of Clones shooting, burning, and exploding their way through the ship.
It had been rather… underwhelming actually.
The spiral ships were an insane amalgamation of thousands upon thousands of different weapons systems, some of them firing what looked like starship sized pieces of molten rock, others were giant worm things that likely were there to allow for boarding actions. And others fired what looked like pieces of shell.
Unfortunately for them, the Galactic Fleet was able to stay beyond their effective range and focus down the defences one at a time, slowly working their way through what would have been considered formidable defensive systems with ease. Once the ship itself was crippled by the actions of the Fleet, the second phase began, where the Clones on their transport ships would make their way over and drop-pod onto its surface. Transport craft would land their mining equipment that would allow them to chip away at the surface, melting/digging their way through the hull of the ship. From there, it was a matter of dropping down and beginning the invasion. Called so because each ship was massive in size, like an island on its own.
Eight stood there, staring at the massive drill that had been set up to bore through the hull of the spiral ships. The Jedi that had come with them, estimated that the hull was approximately 500 meters thick, using the Force to check where the Vong were and guessing the range from there. When the Jedi had relayed that information, the transport ships had decided to use these giant drill systems, using plasma to melt their way through.
Eight shook his head, to think there was a day when they would actually use one of these things, it was they had thought, a massive joke. Just gathering dust in the holds of the transport ships, never activated beyond maintenance testings. Now, now it was their way into this mess.
Eight frowned, an entire race of plant people that apparently were using living ships and weapons that were alive. Seriously, did they never discover electricity or something? And now they were pushing into it, into the bowels of a living organism that would probably eat them alive to feed itself or something.
But if they didn't… well, that would mean the bloody Clankers would be the first to capture one of these. Their ships were over on the spiral ship closest to them, if Eight squinted hard enough, he could see the tiny little specks that were the Separatist Ships hanging in geostationary orbit over the spiral ship.
The Clones hadn't let them win the war, they weren't going to let them win this battle.
A loud thunk and the drill stopped. Green lights flashed. Well, looked like they were going in. Dropping down in little capsules fired by the drill, like indoor drop-pods. First in were probably going to be cut apart, but they were Clones, who cared.
The first drop team had in fact not been killed, the explosive dropped by the drill had cleared out the area, that upon closer examination appeared to be a crop farming area. Taking advantage of the wide space, the Clones had dropped thousands of infantry down in the anti-grav elevator installed. They came down with their heavy weapons, their flamethrowers, blasters and everything else that might be considered a weapon. The enemy was unknown and they were going up against a space borne island full of them.
The few that they had shot in the agricultural area were… rather pathetic really. Just lying there, dripping blood everywhere. Not really worth the time and effort if they were being honest.
The soldiers, on the other hand, those were going to be an issue. Their weapons had been analyzed, sticks that were actually animals that held a monomolecular edge, could resist Blaster Bolts, and could shoot poison or acid… it had the properties of both. It had been tested on their armour and the damned stuff just melted right through.
In an open field, they would win 100% of the time, just cutting them down before they could get into range. Inside the bowels of a ship, however… well, things became much more dangerous for them.
A door in the far end of the agricultural area had opened, warriors came pouring in. Only the door only allowed 5 people to stand abreast as they entered. As in, it was a door that was a very natural chokepoint, a chokepoint that would have been suicidal to enter. Yet… here they were. The Clones were confused, it didn't stop them dropping to one knee, bringing up their rifles and pouring a wall of bolts onto the idiots, but they were still confused.
They remained confused when the Vong kept coming, through the door, straight into their blaster bolts. Sure their sticks could stop a bolt, but when there were hundreds of Clones firing into the same tiny area, there was only so much that they could deflect.
The Vong were dying, by the hundreds if not thousands and they kept coming. It had been 3 hours and the Clones were getting tired. They rotated out and now Eight was there, kneeling, just firing in the general direction of the doorway. There were enough of them firing on it, that every single little bit of it would be saturated in bolts. What made it worse for the plant people was that by firing on the doorway, the bodies that had fallen would eventually explode as the moisture vaporized and expanded. Spraying all over their allies and the hallways.
Eight frowned, they were even more insane than the Droids. Just kept pushing up even when it was suicidal. He wasn't even sure what they were even thinking, the Vong just kept coming.
He sighed, rifle sight downrange and pulling the trigger again and again. If they were going to feed themselves to his blaster bolt, then he would just keep at it.
Eight walked down the corridor, the warriors had stopped coming a few hours previously and the Clones had moved up to take advantage of that. They had… not even bothered to try and ambush them, just waiting for them then charging out when the Clones came close enough. The first time it had caught them off guard and they lost a squad before the Vong were cut down.
After that, however… well, things became ridiculously easy now that he thought about it. Just make lots of noise when walking and then shoot anything that popped up. Like some kind of mousetrap… but annoying and frothing at the mouth.
From the word of the Clones up front, there were some that they had to look out for. The ones with sacks that threw out jelly blobs that were acidic and clung to your armour, flamers on low setting got rid of those. The first boarding action on one of the smaller ships had given them plenty of operational information that they were making use of, kept more than a few of them alive.
The ones that threw bugs or shot bugs… those were weird. They knocked the Clones on their backs, but not much more than that. 5 years of constant war had seen the design of the Clone armour go through many changes, making it harder, resisting ballistic attacks, more capable of resisting blaster bolts, the works. Against some puny bugs that they could probably hit back if they had bats? No chance.
The ones that shot shards out were more difficult, if it hit a joint, it was going straight through. Only they were hitting armour for the most part, armour that was… more than thick enough to resist anything they might try. Eight had laughed when he first heard that, it was like an entire tribe of primitives had suddenly grown spaceships and decided to launch an inter-galactic invasion. Did they not understand how these things worked? You needed to be able to kill the people you are invading and when you best bet is little pebbles that exploded with molten rock on impact… well, they were rather behind the times. Blaster bolts, especially the new ones developed over the intervening 3 years was several times more hot than what they were using.
It might scuff the paint, but that was a momentary concern. If they had been using the armour from 5 years ago, no doubt it would be killing them and cooking them. But against the stuff they were wearing currently? No chance in hell.
Eight exited out of the corridor, still walking. No running, otherwise you might run straight into a Vong ambush, keeping your distance was the best way to go about it, especially when they had the advantage in close quarters combat.
As he got out… things opened up. Quite literally. There was a vast cavern full of pillars around which bulges with holes in them were found. Maybe rooms? It was like a forest of them, all placed around the cavern so thickly that he couldn't see the other side. Delving further, it looked very much like the Vong had fortified their position and were using bigger versions of the molten rock cannon thing.
That… that might hurt. While the molten rock might not be an issue, the impact of something that big was. The Clones that were already there, were laying down a withering barrage of Blaster Fire on the Vong, the warriors that streamed towards them from the many overhanging bridges that connected the pillars, the bulges, and the large… balcony(?) that the Clones were standing on. The bridges themselves were the target of systematic destruction, leaving only a few behind as to funnel the plant people down specific paths, making it more easy to kill them.
The emplacements were doing their best to counter the Clones but they were finding their gunners picked off with depressing regularity. Eight grinned. Yes, it was good when they had the advantage.
Still. They could have more of an advantage.
He found the commander of the attack. Or rather. He was the Commander of the attack. Surviving 5 years tended to mean the ones above you died off, leaving you with Command. Not something he particularly enjoyed but sometimes… sometimes it was worth it.
"Captain CA-8827 to Baseplate. Request artillery support on 8-1 Marker. Request Armoured Support on 2-3 Marker. Fire on 2." He said over the commlink.
"Baseplate Acknowledges, support en-route, initiating in 2 minutes."
Pulling out 2 grenade looking things from his chest bandolier, Eight pressed a button then put the red on in the underbarrel launcher on his rifle and angled it at a low angle. A rough estimate as to where it was going to land and he pulled the trigger. The canister shot out in an arc straight into the middle of the largest concentration of pillars that he could see.
The blue one he pressed then threw the marker over the balcony. The APCs they had brought all had antigravitic systems, didn't matter where they landed, they would be able to get anywhere they were needed.
He grinned.
As the roof of the cavern exploded inward and turbolasers smashed into the pillars, turning them into ash and molten slag, he grinned.
As the Vong screamed in agony as their bodies were cooked alive, as their little molten rock cannons exploded under the heat, he grinned.
When the first of the Armoured drop-pods landed and began to wreak unholy havoc on the remaining Vong with their laser cannons and missiles, he grinned.
Oh yes. This was a good day to be a Clone.
Crushing weak and useless enemies before him, destroying all hope, using things that went boom. This was a very good day.
After Activation 1125 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1086 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 099-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 28 BBY - Star Wars Universe
There had been 2 spiral ships captured, and a variety of smaller ships by the Galactic Taskforce, mainly composed of the Jedi, SDF, Clone, and Droid factions. The information garnered by the Galactic Fleet was not an encouraging one.
The Vong were here as part of an "Invasion," bringing their entire race to the galaxy in order to kill things and remake the galaxy in their image. It had brought a frown to many of the faces of those present. Even at their worst, they had not gone and destroyed their own galaxy as part of their war. The Vong were insane and needed to be dealt with, before they went and killed off everyone in this galaxy as well.
In beating them back, the Galactic Fleet had uncovered what happened to the worlds that had been overrun by the Vong, their peoples being mutated, made into slaves, or being used as food by the Vong and their pets.
The Galactic Republic was not happy, it was clear that the Vong had no intention of respecting the rights of the Republic, ready to fight and kill any who might resist, to kill any who didn't resist, and wage war upon them for simply using technology.
The Vong were a pest and they needed to be eradicated. Even the Jedi didn't offer any opposing words, the horrors of the worlds under Vong control etched deep into their minds. Entire planets, billions of people, all consumed by an extra-galactic invader that had no empathy.
The prisoners that the Galactic Fleet had captured were offered no sympathy, especially when it was discovered that they were all masochists. It was rather… disturbing to know that torture turned them on. The interrogators were at a loss regarding what to do before the SDF volunteered to take over. There had been doubts, of course, there were, the SDF were untested in the realm of interrogation, not like the storied history of Republic and Separatist interrogators. Still, there was nothing they could do, them being voids in the Force meant that even the Jedi were not of use in this situation.
The SDF then demonstrated to the assembled crowds a rather… unique method of torture. They would not torture the subject physically, but rather they would do so psychologically, to make them do it to themselves.
The Vong were suspended in a 2 solution vat. One more dense and the other less so. Forming into 2 bands in which anything that was dropped into it, would float in the middle. The solutions themselves were oxygen rich, allowing any who were inside to be able to breathe whilst submerged. Cables were inserted into the waste organs to draw out and incinerate waste while the body was tethered in order that the subject would not be able to escape. On their ears were headphones that repeated a message on a constant loop, telling them to cooperate, to not resist. The message would be shut off for 30 minute intervals, before starting up again.
Finally, there were large fans set into the sides of the vat so that no matter how hard the subject swam, they would be unable to ever touch the sides. It was then that lights were shut off and the subject left in isolation for hours. The longest one had ever managed to survive inside the vat without going mad (or was a Force Sensitive), was less than 4 hours.
It turned out that in absence of sensation, the body itself would create it. The blood underneath the skin stimulating the increasingly sensitive nerve endings that were desperately searching for a sensation of some kind. The mind in the absence of sight, of touch, of smell, of taste, of sound, quickly made up its own. In the first few minutes, there was feeling, but as the body became accustomed to it, it became accepted and felt like there was nothing there.
And so the subjects immersed in the vats were given a single sensation that they could follow, the sound of the voice telling them what they should do, that they should obey and not fight back. That to resist was bad, and that they were bad for thinking about resisting. On a constant look, something for them to cling to, to hold close, to tether themselves to.
When the voice stopped, when they were left in the dark. That was when the hallucinations came, when the misfiring nerve endings told them that there were things happening to them that they couldn't see, but were very much there. That they were on fire, that they had been stabbed, that there was someone stroking them. The voices began to speak, in their ears, whispering, shouting, screaming. Little people would dance in their eyes before being eaten by ravenous cubes, morphing into triangles and disappearing from sight. In absence, the body sought to create with its own sensation. A hellscape of madness where nothing was real, yet all of it was.
Then came the voice again, giving them something to cling to, something that kept away the madness and the suffering. The voice protected them, kept them safe.
And then the voice was gone again and the cycle of suffering would continue anew.
When they were finally retrieved after a mere 6 hours, the Vong that had come out, were very different from the Vong that had went in. Shivering wrecks of people that were compliant and willing to share all the knowledge they had, all for the assurance that they would not be put back in again. They would be able to avoid the "Vats" if they cooperated and they were very interested in cooperating. Anything to avoid the Vats. Anything.
What information they gathered was disjointed at best and contradictory at worst. While they couldn't get any of the so called "warriors", them committing suicide rather than being taken prisoner, the other castes had been represented in the prisoner count.
It was an invasion they said, a search across the universe to find themselves a new home. Their previous one destroyed by the war that had raged through it, a war against the abominations. The Machines.
To start at the beginning was to understand that the Yuuzhan Vong as they called themselves were a peoples that revered nature to an almost fanatical degree, seeing all that might damage or destroy it to be abominations. Fire was the first abomination, more specifically, the fire of combustion. It supplanted nature and allowed a society to exist without nature.
Basically, they were extremist hippies.
It also meant they hated technology in all its forms as it was descended from the fire of combustion. That and the galaxy ripping war against their own Sentient Droid armies that the Vong had gone through in their own galaxy, a war that they had won, but in doing so destroyed much of their world and indeed the galaxy. The entire reason they had left their own galaxy, to begin with.
It was as if someone had found the Clones Wars, made them 50000000x more absurd and extreme.
The Galactic Fleet was quite relieved they had not gone the way of the Vong and still had a galaxy. As it was, they now needed to fight off extremist hippies that also mutated their people and had a massive slave caste to supplement their own workers.
In the vein of that, the Vong has a caste system. Not the most pleasant thing to know about them, a stratified society that glorified the warrior caste? That never ended well. Just looking at Mandalore was enough to tell you what happened when.you had a dedicated warrior caste.
The castes themselves were that of the Supreme Overlord, the most powerful being, born of fate.
The Shaper Caste that grew and managed all the various biological creations of the Vong. Their ability to genetically manipulate them making them the "innovators" of the species.
The Intendant class which drew its membership from the other castes and formed the political, merchant and administrative castes if the Vong.
The Priests which interpreted what their gods said, read omens and fates, and generally controlled the decision making process of the Vong behind the scenes.
The Warriors which were fanatical, willing to die before dishonor, craving to get into close combat range at all times.
The Workers who were the lowest class, slaves, and social rejects included amongst them. Used for the menial labor of Vong society, they were the proverbial oppressed ones who served to validate the other castes. It was the caste that one was born into, those who were not able to accept the grafts of… other things, were sent here, as were the physically disfigured.
Underlying it all was the fanaticism by which they viewed the universe, one of absolutes where strength gave one authority, where killing your superior was as accepted means of social advancement, where death was meaningless to the society as a whole, where masochism was rampant.
To advance beyond the lowest of the low, one had to cut out body parts, insert in foreign organs, disfiguring themselves to prove themselves to their gods. Generally being very intimate with their knives was encouraged and not considered strange at all.
In short, they were very fucking weird. In a galaxy where giant fucking slugs were crime bosses, that said something.
The Vong therefore, represented the things that needed to be purged from the galaxy. They might be a race of sentients and had feeling and emotions and all that noise. They were also genocidal, masochists that were completely incompatible with any other race in the galaxy.
Even the Jedi didn't like them, and when the Jedi didn't like you, you know you done fucked up. Their entire fleets were preparing themselves, the Vong would not compromise, their entire society had been brought up on a mindset of total war, of proving their superiority over their enemies regardless of the cost. They would regress the entire galaxy back to their primitive little hippy communes with their absolute hatred of technology. They would try and kill off everyone that contradicted them.
The "weak" races would be enslaved, the strong ones would be killed.
It was a very broken way of looking at the universe and the Vong were very clearly living with a mentality with a very broken mentality. They were not going to stop and would have to be dealt with.
Dealing with in this case being all out war. They would either go back to their own galaxy which their own stupidity had destroyed, or they would die. The Galactic Fleet was not prepared to allow them to immigrate into their galaxy. It would be like inviting an insane relative with a very pronounced hatred of all things living and a very large knife collection to live with you.
The Vong had to be ejected from the galaxy or wiped out, or they would be doing the wiping out.
The Galactic Fleet in turn, was given its orders. They were to destroy the Vong, crush their fleets and drive them from the galaxy, and if they were not willing to leave, then they would all die.
The Outer Reach Territories had refused to entertain any idea that would see the Vong integrated into the galaxy. Their idea of wholesale enslaving entire races that they considered "weak" was something that the ORT despised. Any attempts at trying to reach a peaceful resolution would be opposed by them.
The Separatist council was the same, the Vong hated their very existence and so long as they maintained their insane thoughts, they would need to be destroyed. They who hated technology and wanted it all destroyed were the natural enemies of the Separatists whose society revolved almost entirely around Droids and technology at this point. The war had seen them develop more and more Droids, some of which could be used in the civil areas of society, Droids that were very useful in the basic services department.
The Republic on the other hand, felt that it would be possible to crush the Vong, relegate them to a tiny little corner of the galaxy and leave them be. Since the other 2 factions thought otherwise, and this was a very nice chance to reconcile with them, the Republic was going along with their suggestions, complete annihilation of the Vong and erasure of them from the galaxy should they refuse to leave.
Oh well. If they had come a few years earlier they could have won, as it was… well, they were going to fall and it was almost inevitable. Sad.
After Activation 1125 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1086 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 099-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 28 BBY - Star Wars Universe
"Prepare to Fire the Proton Torpedoes! 3 Salvos!" Came the voice of the Captain over the intercom. The crew of the Star Destroyer's forward weapons room shot to attention, on their feet and ready. Unlike their counterparts in the Turbolaser and Point Defence batteries, the Torpedo room was one of waiting. When the call did come, they would spring into furious action, ramming in the warheads, preparing them for fire, then sitting down and waiting again.
"Hoooah! Ladies. Let's get this show on the road!" Shouted the crew overseer, his face ruddy with excitement. On his gantry above the torpedo crews operating underneath, the crew overseer began barking out instructions. Background music to the well trained and well drilled gun crew.
First came the warhead, the Proton based conical design was hefted onto the long tray that was the "preparation table" as they called it, a curved little piece of metal to allow the pieces to fit and not roll. A cone with a small cylinder that connected to its rear to allow for the next part of the loading process. A large cylinder came next, approximately the height of a person in width, large straps kept it in place as it was coming up.
Dropping the control module would be a very bad idea when it came down to it. Best to keep the thing stable and secured. As the straps were unlatched, the welding crews got to work. The warhead was lifted from its angled down position and placed snug into the indent on the control module. The welding process was done through friction as to ensure the most snug of fits. Once secured, the entire table lifted upwards and a small slab descended from the ceiling.
Securing itself to the warhead, another one underneath securing the control module, the two arms began to spin at high speed in opposite directions. After 30 seconds the connecting area of the two torpedo parts were glowing red, having been welded together as a result of the friction caused by the spinning.
It was then that the last and final part was lifted upwards. The crane operator keeping his eyes on the mass as it was lifted upwards from the dispenser underneath. The same process as before was begun, the table having returned to the horizontal position. Placed underneath and fitted into the indent of the control module. The engine was fitted in the same way, friction welding.
The finished torpedo, wide as a man was high and at least 8 men long was lifted up onto the final tray that fed into the ship's magazine of torpedoes. Each Proton Torpedo was enough to fully destroy a carrier on its own, the holes carved into the enemy ships enough to rend them in half. Against a spiral ship, it was much less effective, but it was still enough to carve out large chunks of the material that made them up, and more importantly, was enough to destroy the emplacements that were engaging them.
The torpedoes would only be fired once the "singularity shields" were disabled, otherwise, it would just be a waste of a torpedo. While it only took around 2 minutes to assemble one, there were only a few dozen of them per ship, especially considering that this was a Star Destroyer where space was limited. Further, there was an even larger torpedo tube in the prow of the Star Destroyer. An Antimatter Torpedo of which there was only the single projectile. Once fired, it would be enough to destroy an entire planet, the last resort to be used against the giant mushroom ships that themselves were even larger than the spiral ships.
There were now 3 Torpedoes readied and loaded for their own tube of which there were 11 more placed on both sides of the dagger-like ship.
"Torpedo Room 8 Loaded!" Called the overseer over the ship intercom. No doubt there would be another call soon from the other torpedo rooms as they raced to be the first to complete their duty. A fierce competition where the winner was granted the right for extra alcohol at the mess hall.
"Firing. Brace!" Came the gunnery officer's voice. The torpedo crew clutched the various hand holds around the chamber, the shuddering of the torpedoes as they accelerated out of the tubes enough to knock them on their backs.
The sound of the rocket engines igniting as the torpedoes were propelled out of the tubes at the Vong fleet was enough to bring smiles to their faces. While they wouldn't be able to see what was happening, they knew that whoever was on the receiving end of the warheads would be in a world of pain.
"Targets 11 O'Clock High. Flight of 6. Engage at will!" Called the spotter. The gunner ensconced inside his point defence turret grinned. Oh yes.
As he swivelled the turret to face the incoming Vong fighters, Coralskippers they called them, the trigger was depressed and the quadruple laser cannon turret let loose with a barrage of fire, 4000 bolts a minute. Each gun was water cooled, each barrel encased in a water sleeve to ensure that it would be able to sustain the fire necessary to perform the role assigned to it. The batteries that powered the laser cannons were set to cycle with 8 batteries per gun.
In short, he could hold down the trigger for literally ever and they would continue putting out the fire needed to defend the ship from the multitude of small things that wanted to destroy it.
Against Droids it was a much more difficult proposition, their attack craft small, nimble and a right pain in the ass to deal with. Firing on one meant that they would instantly react, use that one to draw fire while the others streaked down to take advantage of the gap in the defensive wall to attack the ship directly. Their speed, their armament, and their numbers meant that they were a right pain to fight off, and any lapse meant damage to the ship and possibly destruction.
These Vong Coralskippers however… they were… disappointing. Slower than even the old LAAT transports that the Clone Army had used, firing their little globs of molten rock that were similarly anemic in speed, the Coralskippers were rather… useless.
That being said, they had a very important role that the point defence gunners truly appreciated, and that was being target practice. A flight of them meant there were around 8 inbounds, 8 targets. He grinned even harder. Oh yes.
Pulling the trigger, leading them as the hud on his helmet dictated, the thing being connected by cables out of its back into the gun AI modules directly. The Vong ships were caught before their pilots could react, the lasers moving faster than they had trained to avoid. Their little molten rock guns were slow as hell, after all, going up against lasers or even bolts of course, was not something they had been prepared for.
While the singularity fields managed to absorb the incoming damage, it was of no matter, even the most basic starfighter had shields. One was just black and the other was a little blue. He grinned, as the fighters sustained the damage, some tried to swerve out and attack from different angles. Bad idea when there were hundreds of point defence turrets covering the entire ship. With the Coralskippers fanning out, out into the firing lanes of 5 other point defence turrets, well they didn't last long.
The flight crumpled in on itself after a few seconds, the laser cannons punching through the fragile flesh-like material that made their hulls, the harder "coral" bits taking a bit more… only a bit though.
"Rocks, 11 O'Clock High! Priority!" Said the spotter, marking out the targets on his display.
The turret swivelled back to the original orientation that the flight had been coming in from. The quad blasters blasting away at the molten rock that the Coralskippers had managed to fire off before being utterly destroyed and crushed.
"Targets 2 O'Clock Low!"
Back to work. Turret swivelled down to the right and the trigger depressed again.
The gunner grinned, this was so much easier than fighting the damn Droids, and even against the simulations of Clone attack craft.
The Infamous was firing on the spiral ship designated the target of 8th squadron. 9 Star Destroyers on dispatch duty. Which itself meant that they did not have the role of escorting a carrier or a troop ship, instead being used as needed by the fleet admiral. Directing them to specific missions that required a massed Star Destroyer attack force beating on its doors.
Usually, this meant slamming into an enemy fleet from the flank or the rear while they were being distracted by a friendly fleet. A dangerous task, especially when the enemy was prepared for them, ready to engage. In turn, this meant fighting in knife fighting range with an enemy fleet which in itself was never a fun prospect.
Exciting, yes. Fun, no.
In the rough melee of a starship battle, the slightest thing would see them destroyed or at the very least take critical damage from an unseen threat. It was necessary of course, engaging an enemy fleet in close ensured that they would be confirmed as destroyed instead of allowing them to escape or feign catastrophic damage before escaping at a later date.
It was not the safest or the most sane of missions, but it was a necessary one.
Against the Yuuzhan Vong however… things didn't quite work out as they had trained or were used to.
The Vong were to start off with… slow. Very very slow. Their fighters were nearly an eight the speed of the standard Wedge fighter, a sixth the speed of a Droid equivalent. At the same time their capital ships moved at a speed that in itself was ridiculous, nearly a third of that of an equivalent capital ship class, which for the Republic was their carriers and their transport ships, behemoths that moved so incredibly slowly compared to other vessels that they were considered the whales of the fleet.
To see the Vong move even more slowly… well, it boggled the mind as to why anyone would bother using them in the first place.
In turn, it had changed the way that fleet battles had been fought against the enemy. Instead of trying to break past their defences, and then closing into close combat, where they would bring large amounts of firepower onto the enemy's critical zones. The Galactic Fleet instead fought them at long range. Rather than trying to get into close combat, and risk being destroyed by the enormous boulders that the Vong used as capital grade weaponry, the Galactic Fleet engaged them at range.
With enough range that the giant rocks could be shot down by the TurboLaser emplacements, and if they failed, the point defence turrets could cooperate and put it down. Usually, the ships merely drifted to one side and avoided the giant rocks entirely, them being giant rocks made them very bad at turning. While the enemy had shown that they could be steered, it was a very broad definition of control, arcs that would make a Hutt embarrassed in the trajectory. Additionally, they had to be close enough that their Turbolasers could still reach the enemy before they maneuvered out of the way.
A delicate balancing game where the slightest wrong move and they would end up with a large ornament to bring back to the repair yards.
The strategy therefore, was to engage at range with the Turbo Lasers, putting in enough firepower that their singularity fields were disabled, systematically destroying all visible defence systems, then taking the ship to little pieces to ensure that it was dead. Which meant that the Proton Torpedoes that were heading out now from the Infamous were meant for finishing off the ship. Not the most efficient manner, but it was the fastest.
The Vong had useless ships and attack craft, but they did have the numbers. The Infamous needed to finish off the ship, and rejoin the fight where it was the Galactic Navy being outnumbered on a 3-1 scale. They would win, of course, the Vong were that bad at fighting naval engagements, but finishing quickly meant getting R more quickly.
As the torpedoes closed the distance, the little twinkling lights their rocket boosters, the Captain stared. As useless as the Vong were, they were still sailors, he would watch them die with respect.
And as the vast red tinged explosions reached the viewports of the Star Destroyer, the Vong Ship, a carrier equivalent, being torn into indistinguishable pieces by the 24 torpedoes, the Captain gave a nod.
"Helmsman, plot a course to the next target." He said. Not ship, target. The Vong didn't put up enough of a fight to be considered "ship".
Like shooting suicidal ducks in a barrel. Just watch out for when they tried to ram you and all would be well.