Operation Nightly Fight (Spearpoint-Fighters)

Horst sneezed, jostling his armor as Ervisa asked why in the hells she was there, and where her tights were. That made him grin as he looked back at the company of pirates, about a hundred and fifty in total, all armed to the teeth and looking for trouble.

That was good, as in a little while they were certainly going to find some.

The plan's basics were easy; Horst was going to bring out a good chunk of men and raise as much hell as he physically could. The specifics had been left up to him, however; for all Ethan had cared, they could ring up the ship's intercomm (provided it still worked) and have told the privateers that there was a wet-T-shirt contest and that they were all invited.

Which was actually what Horst was sort of thinking about doing.

"I thought it was because ya' loved tha' sophistication?" He grinned at the green woman walking beside him, Ervisa Therani. She was probably the only person in his group that he totally entrusted. His soldiers were, of course, his loyal men, and he trusted them with his life, but... they didn't know him. Not like Ervisa did, anyway. Horst supposed that the same could be said by her of him, and every time that thought occurred to him, he became very, very quiet.

He wasn't used to knowing things.

The other two officers Ethan had sent him along with were an odd pair though. One was an odd Noghri that usually walked around SPHQ with some sort of odd head-piece. All Horst knew was that the guy, named Je'Baru but called "Jebby" by the Corellian thanks to his inability to pronounce much of anything beyond his accented Basic, was a bit of an oddball. Horst couldn't say that he'd ever really talked to the guy, and the only thing he really knew about him was that he had some sort of bounty-hunting experience.

And then there was Simo. Horst knew all about him. The Rodian hadn't exactly set a good first impression to Horst when he had shot down his and Ethan's chopper that week ago, and now Horst was trusting him with live ammo and his back.

I swear ta' tha' hells, if this guy kills me, I'm gonna' kill Ethan. Horst didn't put a ton of weight on first impressions, but the Rodian had done nothing to shift Horst's opinion in a favorable light. He'd watch the Rodian out the corner of his eyes... after all, that's why he wasn't on the looting team.

But as a door approached, ending the hallway, Horst cut his thoughts short, hollering, "Hold it! Comms on!" Once communications were up, Horst's voice crackled through every helmet.

"Here's tha' deal," Horst walked up to the door and punched the buttons. It began to slide open, but then a sickening clank rang out and it stopped, dying. The Corellian sighed before bracing his shoulder up against one of the ends, pushing the door open further, allowing for a nice view of the room before them.

It was the ship's war-room, dead and decaying with age. Being a Dreadnaught, the ship's war-room was gigantic, easily big enough to have held thousands of tacticians and officers when the behemoth had been in its prime. Now it was a giant, hollow set of cat-walks, open spaces, dead terminals, and old charts lining the walls, filled to their edges with tears and holes as they disintegrated.

Today, poorly illuminated and with spotty gravity, it would play host to a little war once again, though this time the action would be quite a bit closer.

"We're splittin' up. Jebby, yer' in charge of Alpha Platoon. Take 'em and spread out on tha' right side a' tha' room. Ervi, yer' takin' Bravo Platoon. You guys 'r on tha' left side. Simo n' I," he glanced at the Rodian through his helmet's visor, "'R takin' Charlie Platoon right in tha' center. Let's move!"

Horst then promptly led Simo toward the center console of the room, where a giant holographic was once displayed depicting space battles on a massive scale. Ignoring the controls, Horst tried the intercomm system; it was as shotty as could be and would only reach those sections of the ship with power, but that was good enough for him. The privateers and mercs had probably set up powered sections anyway.

The Engineer promptly activated the speaker, handing the mic to Simo. "Yer' good with words. Get 'em mad, and tell 'em where we are."

Simo wondered how his life had come to this, picking over the bones of Sith, working with other people and what is more under some one else's instruction. Not that he did not respect their capabilities he knew how good a fighter Horst was first hand, even if the doubted the man's intelligence. Working ahead of them was Ervisa, was it? He knew very little about her but she seemed to be highly regarded. The other guy, he simply could not care less about. Simo was here because in truth he had no choice, he had no friends and allies left anywhere except perhaps a certain small time gangster on Rodia. He was finding it hard to reconcile, that he had been shooting at Horst and Ethan a few weeks ago, his snout was still a little sore from a Rifle butt to the face by a mad man but was more than fit for this mission. He followed Horst and Ervisa, the spearpoint troops following on behind moving neatly and carefully. Simo his hand on his Blaster, walked casually past them as if he were on his way to the shops. He was not cut out for order and armies, the Republic had found that out and doubtless so would Spearpoint.

The ship, was a great eerie lump of metal in space. The bulkheads deformed by damage and age creaked and groaned all around them making some of the younger members of their group jump and break out in sweats. There was then faint crackling noise, of lights trying to come back to life and the whisper of what remained of the air filtration system. Simo was nervous to, but not a single trace of emotion was allowed to pass across his face. However, on the inside, though he would have denied it was a faint hint of excitement. He did not want to feel it, but it was a strange enjoyment of the risk and danger they were about to face.

Simo was conflicted between this thrill and having to work for Spearpoint against his will. The coming battle would be a challenge, no doubt. The ship, in a lot of areas was dangerous, malfunctioning systems left on, just waiting to overload or explode. The ship's superstructure seemed stable but who could be totally sure with a ship of this age and state of disrepair. On top of it all, unsurprisingly Simo and his new comrades shared a mutual distrust. Simo saw them as overambitious, and just like the Military which he hated in so many ways. He was sure they saw him as cold and selfish, which was not entirely untrue. As he had shot down the chopper he was in, Horst was obviously least welcoming to him. Simo filtered him out as he talked, and watched him partly force a door open to reveal a massive War-room. Simo looked upwards and saw that the ceiling was lost in the shadows above them.

Simo followed Horst further in, his red multifaceted eyes staring at the back of Horst's head as he approached the console in the center. A badly corrupted image flashed for a moment on one of the screens. Activating the intercom systems Horst turned to Simo, and asked him to attempt to anger their rivals. Distraction was the order of the day. Dangerous to the fighting team without a doubt. Simo, was here because he was not trusted, clearly they thought he might try and betray the looters and run off with anything valuable. Maybe they hoped he would be killed, and cease to be a problem, Simo was not sure. Frankly as much as he was tempted, betrayal was the last thing on his mind as Spearpoint was the safest place for him at the moment.

He looked at Horst and took the Mic in his long fingers

“Of courth thir.” He said in Basic as the idiot did not know huttese or rodese. Simo hated speaking in basic, as he spoke it with a lisp and a strong accent and found people did not take him seriously.
“It is a pleasure to therve.” He kept his voice even but the intent was clearly sarcastic. Changing back to Huttese, as he could not see their opponents not understanding such a common language, he began to speak.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name is Simo. I am the spokesman for Spearpoint, we have come here today with the express purpose of using you for target practice and stripping this ship of anything useful. Now we at Spearpoint are well mannered and sporting people, so we shall be giving you the opportunity of proving us wrong. We are currently in the War -room. I realise that intelligence is not your strong point so I will spell that out for you. W-A-R-R-O-O-M. If you tiny brained morons can work out where we are we will be waiting. Have a pleasant evening.”

He dropped the mic again, and looked at Horst and spoke in Basic “Good enough?”

Je'Baru he been very silent for the majority of the trip. He hadn't spoken to much to the group other than Zett but every thing was to seen as new, by Marcus' teachings. So when they exited their ship he let them step out first then taking off the glow wolf pelt and reveiling the simple noghri armor, khabak shield gaunlet and the tracker cuff the noghri looked quiet stripped of protection. Yet it was how he worked he let ones assume him slow in the head and being simple skills.

A churble came from him when Mirialan woman made a comment about merry men and tights. A very quiet comment came from him,...

If you did none would watching any thing but your six.

Shifting the noghri stepped into the shadows the halls made. As they stepped to the door he nodded and took the group and stationed them. Checking the lay of the room via his tracker he noted a few blind zones. Taking out a few remote stun grenades he tossed and bounced them to or nearest to those locations. With a smile Je'Baru slumped back down behind some protection.

Calling on his coms....Right is secured.

Why exactly Horst picked Ervisa to be a leader, she didn't know. Somehow she doubted it was because they were boning. He probably had some delusions she was a good leader, and that the rank they'd given her actually meant something.

Considering she couldn't remember what rank it was, it was generally safe to assume it didn't mean anything to her.

Nevertheless, she trudged off with the platoon down the left side of the ship, heading for the bridge (where they'd deduced these bad guys were based out of). She was informed these Navy people called left 'port.' Personally, the only port she was interested in was a fortified wine.

It was quiet for a while, but her senses were on high alert. Unlike the other groups, she had the advantage of being able to tell the locations of the enemy, and when they drew close she signalled her men and warned them.

Her blaster pistol was heavy in her hand as she stealthily approached the intersection, taking a very tentative peek around the corner. Sure enough, there was a pair of sentries, neither looking in direction. So she leaned out and fired off a pair of shots, catching them in the chest.

Turning the corner, she motioned for the others to head down it, grabbing a Sergeant by the shoulder. Well, she assumed he was a Sergeant, judging by those squiggly markings on his armor. Maybe he was a Corporal, or a Field Marshal. Or the Pope.

Why were these freaking ranks so hard?

"You direct the attack, I'm going to flank around while they're distracted. We'll win the greatest victory since the Coruscant zero G volleyball team beat the Rodians by ten to one. Or something."

He headed off with the others, and Ervisa took the next corridor down, hoping she didn't get lost. That was going to be a bit of a challenge, as this ship was a gorram maze.

Belatedly she realized some kind of report was in order, so she activated her comm and called to Horst.

"We're fighting now. Reports to follow. K, thanks, bye."

Horst directed the members of Charlie Platoon as Simo picked up the intercomm, switching over to some click-clack language Horst thought might have been Huttese. He didn't speak it himself, so what Simo was saying was anyone's guess; he could have been advertising speeders for all the Engineer knew.

Still, Horst heard a condescending tone and at one point the spelling-out of a word, so he smirked in the dark room, coming back to Simo after all of the troops were hidden and ready to pounce. He grinned at the Rodian, speaking in a gruff whisper.

"I could feel tha' bustin' my balls, n' I don't even know tha' language. Good job." He chuckled silently, checking on his repeater as he crouched down before the globe console. He hit his comm in time to hear "Jebby" report in. Alpha Platoon was in place and ready.

... where tha' hell is Bravo Pl-

Ervisa reported in then with the shortest report Horst had ever heard. The Corellian blinked in the darkness, needing a minute to take it in...

"Damnit Ervi! Wait fer' tha' signal nex-" The bulkhead door on the side of the war-room opposite to where they had arrived opened with a loud set of clunks, and Horst became dead silent, peering up over the console slightly to see what was going on. A group of mercenaries came dashing in, rifles trained, looking around for targets. Horst hoped to the hells that everyone was hidden well enough.

"Oi! Who's in here?!" To Horst's relief, the guy got no answer. His comrade raised a hand up to his ear, making a report to the other side. "Nothing here sir. It was a fak- wait, what do you mean the flank is getting hit?!" That prompted some frantic whispering Horst couldn't make out exactly. It sounded like Bravo's preemptive assault had caught them way off guard. Maybe this could work out...

"C'mon mates! War-room's clear! Git in here 'fore they eat ya' alive!" A minute later, Horst could spot a multitude of mercenaries walking backwards toward the war-room; there must have been a hundred guys, mostly human, and all watching their sixes, rifles up. As they started filing into the war-room, Horst whispered quietly into his comm. "Bravo, hold the line and get ready ta' push. Alpha, Charlie, on my mark..." The mercs slowly began to spread out, coming closer and closer to the front-most soldiers of Charlie Platoon. Horst drummed his fingers on the triggers of his repeater, hoping it was dark enough for them to wait just those crucial last seconds...

"Hey! Who the hell is this guy?!"

"Open fire!" Charlie Platoon popped out collectively from the cover in the center of the room, Horst smack-dab in the center of it all, his repeater whirling up as he squeezed the rotation trigger, blurring the barrels. The mercs all jumped.

Then the real fun began.

The once silent, dark, abandoned room immediately became an all-out light show as bolts and slugs of every size, shape, color, and caliber screamed through the air among shouts of war, pain, shock, and aggression. The sleepy room awoke in an instant, and it roared with the sounds of war.

Horst yelled a bit himself, mostly at the men close by, as he emptied his shots at the door, flinging them at the mass of mercenaries. Luckily the privateers hadn't managed to spread themselves out too far into the room, but they definitely covered the front wall. Horst ducked down to reload, barking orders as he did so.

"Charlie, spread into the left side a little more before they flank us! Don't give 'em any ground, push! Alpha, push up and flank 'em, and do it NOW! 'N Bravo, see if ya' can't thin 'em out on yer' end!"

imo found himself rather unmoved by Horst's compliment. Simo still found it very hard to like the man, so he shrugged his shoulders to the comment, besides Horst seemed to busy to pay attention to any snide comment Simo could come up with. From Horst's frenzied discussion, Simo could also tell that Ervisa had moved her team into combat ahead of time. However, Simo like everyone else in the room, heard the clunks of the door opening and had the presence to dive behind a flickering console and take cover.

Simo was relived to see that several other members of their little band had managed to secrete themselves around the room. His well adjusted eyes, spotted a leg here an arm there, the outline of somebody there. However in the dark and further away they would be harder to spot. Simo pulled out his blaster Pistol slowly and quietly , and held it flat across his chest while he carefully leaned out around the side of the console for a better look at the mercenaries. Clearly they had got his message and were a little upset. That pleased Simo a great deal in a strange way nothing was more satisfying than annoying someone and promoting them into a rage and forcing them to make mistakes. It was a thrill, to have such power over others.

From their shouts, cries and complaints they were rattled. Which was exactly what Simo wanted. Also in his opinion the mercs were stupid, with only a cursory examination of an empty room, they had decided the room was empty. It baffled Simo how these men had lived so long with such obvious incompetence. It would almost be like a favour to the reputation of all mercenaries everywhere to wipe their pathetic stupidity from the face of existence.

They compounded this error, by backing into a room they had not properly checked after they came under attack. This left them vulnerable to being boxed in. Clearly who ever was in charge of this lot was a rank amateur. Simo heard orders coming in from Horst on his comlink, his fingers tightened on the blaster. Simo felt faintly annoyed at the silly code names being used by Horst, but he had no choice in the matter. He waited impatiently for the order feeling it would never come, until the moment he did, when the adrenaline shot through him. He pushed himself on to his feet, and squeezed off a few shots aimed directly at the guy who seemed to be in charge he was wasting no time. The fire flew overhead and crashed in the scenery round him lighting up the dark like a thunder storm. People dropped on both sides but the mercs seemed to be suffering worse as fire was coming in from plenty of directions.

Fire pelted the console behind which Simo was standing, sending sparks flying and darkening the panels. Simo fired off a few more shots before dropping again behind the console. Heavy fire was coming in his direction, making it hard for him to jump up and return fire. He heard Horst shout about flanking on the left, and that was where Simo was. He saw a young soldier near him and for a moment genuinely considered using him as a human shield, but he doubted his new found 'allies' would like that much. He detected a slight gap in the fire, and shot into the crowd of soldiers heading down the left flank.

With a flash and a bang men went down. Je'Baru coldly smiled as he signaled for one of his men to cut the power on their location. Blackness engulfed the section giving the noghri the optimum hunting stage. He worked through the darkness letting his gaunlet guide him to his prey. Pray they knew what was hunting them, for all they could see the blaster flashes from the other side.

A gurggling shriek made a few jump and miss their targets. One of the males stood to get a better shot only to be snagged off his feet in a visible drop. A crunch and a snap another went silence in the darkness. This continued until a sonic grenade went off signalling the group to advance. The darkness had hid the gore that the noghri had wrot against the number of the on coming group. A hissing blood rage made all stall in their actions.

In a cold blood thirsty tone Je'Baru called back...... Thiss is Nargruk ssseven down and pushing on. Will drive the lot back toward your gunsss.

Ervisa stalked silently down the hall, holstering her pistol and placing the cool metallic cylinder that was her lightsaber directly into her palm. She could remember when she'd built it, assembled from a crystal she'd bought from a trader, and various parts she'd scavenged, all machined together into a beautiful casing.

Like a Jedi sausage, only with a lethal beam of energy rather than tasty meat filling.

It was her sword, the weapon of a Jedi Knight, and when she held it, she wasn't an ex-wh0re, or a floozie, or a drunken skank. She was a righteous Paladin, a woman who slew monsters and achieved victory for her cause.

You could take the Jedi out of 'Jedi Guardian' and still be left with Guardian. That, in a nutshell, was Ervisa. Other things had replaced 'Jedi,' but never 'guardian.' When the need came, she could fight, and fight hard. Precious few had seen it, but today they would.

The Mirialan woman reached out with her senses. She could tell there was a cluster of enemies around the corner, and a large one. Luckily she could even the odds.

Ervisa rolled out into the corridor and her thumb hit the ignition switch on the saber, spitting out a navy beam of light. However, it swiftly streaked out of her hand and scythed through the enemies, a group of four men, who fell with wounds to the legs. When they lay moaning on the ground, she summoned it back to her and dashed down the hall, leaping over prostrate forms as she anticipated nasty action on the other side.

Already she could hear blaster fire, and peeking tentatively around the corner, she saw the backs of enemies firing down the hall at her own 'troops.' Now that wouldn't do at all.

The Mirialan woman peeked in the opposite direction and saw no one, so she took a step out into the corridor and started counting softly.

"One, two, three and four, five, six, aaaaaand seven."

Now all she needed to do was end the skirmish. Easy, right?

Things were actually operating pretty smoothly. Alpha and Bravo were holding the flanks, Charlie was standing strong, and the mercs seemed to be losing a little ground. Horst smiled, laying out fire from a fresh powerpack, surveying the battle at hand. So far a few Spearpoint soldiers were down, buuuuuuuuuuuut...

... This is down-right easy. Horst knit his eyebrows at that; things were almost never when he was involved.

And unfortunately, that statement held true. As Bravo and Alpha started funneling them toward Charlie, the mercs retreating fast, a set of coinciding explosions rocked the room and sent Spearpoint troops flying, forcing Horst to duck down as a disembodied arm flew past. The mercs suddenly surged forward, apparently a whole hell of a lot more confident.

Horst peeked up, trying not to get his own arms blown off as he tried to see what had happened. To his utter displeasure, a large squad of mercs were jogging into the warroom in heavy, black armor wielding what Horst could only figure to be...

"Tha' hell are mercs doin' with anti-material gear?!" Popping out fully, Horst emptied the rest of his powerpack downrange, aiming for the new mercenaries in big, black armor. The shots connected, but the weave they were wearing was so thick, and there were so many of them, that the Captain was quickly forced back into cover as a hail of explosions rocked his area.

"Charlie, bring up tha' heavy guns!" On cue, a few members of Charlie Platoon hanging back toward the rear of the room advanced, each carrying a huge, "I'm-sorry-was-there-a-ship-there-before?" gun, ranging from explosives to rockets to even a particle cannon. As they took reached the front of the line and took aim, however, each and every one of them dropped dead to the floor systematically as the heavy mercs advanced, almost literally chewing through the front-lines. Horst swore loudly, actually audible through the hell of battle as soldier after soldier exploded, the entire faction being pushed back.

"Bravo, Alpha, we've gotta' major problem!" Horst hollered, trying to be clear over the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and screams that should have belonged to the mercs.

"Tha' mercs just brought in anti-material gear! They're chewin' us up, n' some of 'em are headin' yer' ways!" His orders relayed, he looked about quickly, trying to think of some way to save his own platoon. The heavy guns his guys had been carrying were still right next to their freshly-dead corpses, but there was no way he could make it to one without dying violently...

"Simo!" Yelling over the comm, Horst waved at the Rodian until he had his attention, and then pointed at one of the heavy guns; a particle cannon that could honestly rip through the entire room if they weren't careful.

Therefore, it was a good thing Horst wasn't using it this time around.

Simo was secretly enjoying himself a great deal. Picking off all of these mercenaries felt very rewarding. They seemed a bit slow and stupid as their tactics showed, wave on wave of the same
troops doing the same things. However of course it could not last, they had to eventaully wise up. There solution to the Spearpoint problem was a sledgehammer. Simo was staggered by some large explosions, he lost his balance and crashed shoulder first into the console in front of him. It felt slightly numb but seemed to be only bruised. Simo had little time to recover himself before several mercs in heavy body armour with massive particle weapons burst into the room.

Simo on his knees, looked around the console at the latest group of intruders and tried to pick them off. All of his shots connected but they seemed to have little or no effect on the Mercs. Simo swore loudly in Rodese. Simo heard Horst call for heavy weapons to be bought forward, Simo kept his head down as there was very little he could do armed with his customary Blaster pistol. As he kept a lower profile, the Mercs focused on the Spearpoint troops with heavy weapons and tore through them quickly. Simo shook his head.

“Idiots!”

He muttered to himself. Simo could see the guns from his vantage point, as much as he disliked heavy weapons they may be his only chance for survival in this situation.

Simo, attempted to edge round his console, and a few shots came his way. He quickly ducked his head back round. At that moment Horst attempted to get him on the comm, Simo ignored the fool as he was busy trying to get his hands on one of the guns. However, out of the corner of his eye he saw Horst waving his arms around like a demented windmill. Simo finally turned to him “What?!” he spat into the comm. He saw Horst point to the guns, Simo rolled his eyes, he muttered something uncomplimentary in his own language neglecting to turn the comm off. Ideally Simo would have liked covering fire, but there was little chance of that. Thinking quickly he rummaged in the pockets of his long green coat, and produced a couple of spheres, he hurled them over the console, where they began to pour thick dark smoke into the room. Simo then after a moment to gave himself through himself from round his cover on to one of the heavy guns. For a dangerous moment, random shots were coming through at him, as he struggled with the heavy weapon. Simo had a surprising wiry strength considering his tall rangy frame but he was built for speed more so than power. However, Simo was able to get the thing of the ground and back into cover.

A few of the faction looked distinctly nervous now he had such a powerful gun in his hands. Simo gave a little grin as he pictured what a stir it would cause to take some of these guys out. Simo, however was nothing if not rational and knew what he had to do. He pulled himself up, the smoke was still fiarly thick but thanks to his good eyesight Simo was able to pick off a few of the Black suited men by seeing their forms in the cloud. Blaster fire rained in all around him, and after a moment Simo ducked down, and then repeated this several times carving his way steadily though the armour plated mercs.

(occ-sorry for the shortness low muse.)

Je'Baur saw them before the anouncement came of the heavy troupers. The smoke rolled over his cover which was fine by him it made for better hunting. Readying his whip lines he'd snag one drag him over to his cover and silence him with a sharp thin blade between the joint of their armor. Some fought, others were simple scared and caught off guard, but in the end all the noghri took down ended their firght then and there.

Hissing as more poured through his groups rank in a short sighted anger filled rage he tossed a grenade into the oncoming group. Quickly checking his gauntlet for what he threw he was releaved to note that it was a ion grenade. Pushing the remote det button it went off. The area filled with a static charge shutting down most eletronics.

His group was far enough away that it's effects was not affected. The group must have took it as a sign of advancing charge because they pushed forward. Shrugging he did the same pushing the armored one into the other's hail of bullets from a lerger than normal weapon.