Post by projectsunfire on Aug 7, 2008 14:15:38 GMT -5
The Defeat of Mandalore-
Solus’ad watched the horizon through his Helmet attachment, its scope magnified ten times. He scanned for any chance that Mandalore had survived the assault he had committed against Republic Base West. The Base lay in ruins.
Something had torn the foundation in half. The dead lay strewn about like the dolls in a child’s room. Some had been hit by anti-personnel rounds. Others seemed to have been mown down by enemy fire. He hit the button on his wrist controller and motioned his squad forward.
Slowly they made their way through the wreckage of their own tanks, and equipment. A busted weapons emplacement had a Mandalorian Soldier lying over the rim, his helmet on the ground below him. Each Mandalorian carried their weapons at the ready. Soft clacking could be heard now and again, when one nudged over a piece of the wreckage.
“*ft* It looks like the republic was ready. *ft*”
An attack speeder had made a small crater and Solus’ad looked at the field of death and wreckage. Air speeders would have given them a distinct advantage. The Mandalorians had at least downed this one.
“*ft* Sir, message from Republic Base East. *Ft* Seems that they were just spotted and captured a small Republic force that had attempted to gain entry to Base East. *ft*”
Solus’ad chewed on this information. “*ft* were there any attack speeders?*ft”
“*ft* That’s affirmative sir. *ft* All were put down *ft*.”
“*ft* Tell them to send out three of those high speed interceptor speeders we captured at Base East, and tell them to fortify the Main Base, they could be looking at a possible attack. *Ft*” Solus’ad Ordered, his cold voice coming through the communicator in his own ears.
How had this happened so quickly? Everyone who had been in the chain of Command had either been killed or gone missing in a matter of hours. Somehow the attack force here now looked to him for orders. He wasn’t a leader of the masses. He saw himself as nothing more than a Squad leader. What if Mandalore were dead? Then what? What would they do? His foot tapped against something hard lodged in the soil. He looked down and slung his carbine.
With care Solus’ad knelt down and brushed through the ash and bloody dirt. Something lay half buried in the soil. The grit parted slowly, leaving little bits on the shiny pauldron he picked up out of the dirt. He shook what was left off it, and wiped away the blood. The skull of the Basilisk was painted in black in its center, and Solus’ad looked at it turning it in his gloved hands. One of its edges had been melted, though now it was quite cold.
“*ft* Keep it tight. We don’t want anyone getting lost. *ft*” Solus’ad said as he watched his squad move forward through the wreckage. He unslung his carbine with a soft clack of metal on polymers, and fiber mesh. With his free hand he gripped at his Beskar, as he relived the attack in his mind.
The assault could only be described as a chaotic fire storm. For some reason communications had been cut, and each squad was forced to fight on their own bravery. They moved in an unorganized fashion, back and forth. Where nothing made sense, and the republic had used it to their advantage. Likely, Mandalore had been too proud to pull back, and expected his soldiers to win the day on pure grit.
Well they had. Though it was likely the cost had been an almost 100% death rate.
The squad had moved their way into what was left of the main building. The Mandalorians had apparently made their way into the main compound as both Mandalorian, and Republic Soldiers now lay dead together. Some even caught in an embrace, their forms pathetic and limp. Solus’ad watched as one of his soldiers removed a Beskar from the belly of a republic soldier and the matching belt from a dead comrade. He wiped it lovingly on the hem of his Cloth Poncho, and sheathed it. With reverence he belted himself, and adjusted it so that he could easily draw it loose in case of emergency and he fell back in line.
“*ft* Argos, Fel. Double time it to the Generator.*ft* I want a damage assessment on this bases capability to produce power. Maybe even if we can repair it. *ft*” Solus’ad order, and two members from his squad broke formation and made their way to the generator room.
Solus’ad moved ahead to where a young Mandalorian was standing still, looking into a room.
Judging from the pieces that were left. Two or more individuals had fought over a thermal detonator. Solus’ad put a hand on the soldiers shoulder and told him to move on. It was like this all the way into the central control room. The brand new Holo Table which had been transmitting the battles outcome to the Republic Officers, who were leading their men from behind the lines, lay broken in half. Chairs, tables, and readouts lay vacant. The mandalorians had fought to the last man, as had the republic. Now none were left. None to tell their tale. None to celebrate victory.
It appeared that the republic and won and lost the control room several times. That was when something caught Solus’ad’s breath. On a console near the central chamber, Mandalore’s helmet hung on a communications apparatus. Solus’ad slowly picked it up and brushed debris away. A small blaster hole was visible just above the left side of the visor. Solus’ad slipped his hand inside and poked a finger through the hole and wiggled it just to be sure. A sigh escaped his mouth.
“*ft* Sir, this is Argos. The reactor damage is catastrophic. There’s no way to restore power. *ft* It looks like republic charges were set intentionally. *ft*”
Solus’ad shook his head and gave the Order he had hoped he would never have to give. “*ft* Call in a transport. We are heading back to base. *ft*” Solus’ad turned around and took off his own helmet, and placed Mandalore's helm on his head.
Solus’ad watched the horizon through his Helmet attachment, its scope magnified ten times. He scanned for any chance that Mandalore had survived the assault he had committed against Republic Base West. The Base lay in ruins.
Something had torn the foundation in half. The dead lay strewn about like the dolls in a child’s room. Some had been hit by anti-personnel rounds. Others seemed to have been mown down by enemy fire. He hit the button on his wrist controller and motioned his squad forward.
Slowly they made their way through the wreckage of their own tanks, and equipment. A busted weapons emplacement had a Mandalorian Soldier lying over the rim, his helmet on the ground below him. Each Mandalorian carried their weapons at the ready. Soft clacking could be heard now and again, when one nudged over a piece of the wreckage.
“*ft* It looks like the republic was ready. *ft*”
An attack speeder had made a small crater and Solus’ad looked at the field of death and wreckage. Air speeders would have given them a distinct advantage. The Mandalorians had at least downed this one.
“*ft* Sir, message from Republic Base East. *Ft* Seems that they were just spotted and captured a small Republic force that had attempted to gain entry to Base East. *ft*”
Solus’ad chewed on this information. “*ft* were there any attack speeders?*ft”
“*ft* That’s affirmative sir. *ft* All were put down *ft*.”
“*ft* Tell them to send out three of those high speed interceptor speeders we captured at Base East, and tell them to fortify the Main Base, they could be looking at a possible attack. *Ft*” Solus’ad Ordered, his cold voice coming through the communicator in his own ears.
How had this happened so quickly? Everyone who had been in the chain of Command had either been killed or gone missing in a matter of hours. Somehow the attack force here now looked to him for orders. He wasn’t a leader of the masses. He saw himself as nothing more than a Squad leader. What if Mandalore were dead? Then what? What would they do? His foot tapped against something hard lodged in the soil. He looked down and slung his carbine.
With care Solus’ad knelt down and brushed through the ash and bloody dirt. Something lay half buried in the soil. The grit parted slowly, leaving little bits on the shiny pauldron he picked up out of the dirt. He shook what was left off it, and wiped away the blood. The skull of the Basilisk was painted in black in its center, and Solus’ad looked at it turning it in his gloved hands. One of its edges had been melted, though now it was quite cold.
“*ft* Keep it tight. We don’t want anyone getting lost. *ft*” Solus’ad said as he watched his squad move forward through the wreckage. He unslung his carbine with a soft clack of metal on polymers, and fiber mesh. With his free hand he gripped at his Beskar, as he relived the attack in his mind.
The assault could only be described as a chaotic fire storm. For some reason communications had been cut, and each squad was forced to fight on their own bravery. They moved in an unorganized fashion, back and forth. Where nothing made sense, and the republic had used it to their advantage. Likely, Mandalore had been too proud to pull back, and expected his soldiers to win the day on pure grit.
Well they had. Though it was likely the cost had been an almost 100% death rate.
The squad had moved their way into what was left of the main building. The Mandalorians had apparently made their way into the main compound as both Mandalorian, and Republic Soldiers now lay dead together. Some even caught in an embrace, their forms pathetic and limp. Solus’ad watched as one of his soldiers removed a Beskar from the belly of a republic soldier and the matching belt from a dead comrade. He wiped it lovingly on the hem of his Cloth Poncho, and sheathed it. With reverence he belted himself, and adjusted it so that he could easily draw it loose in case of emergency and he fell back in line.
“*ft* Argos, Fel. Double time it to the Generator.*ft* I want a damage assessment on this bases capability to produce power. Maybe even if we can repair it. *ft*” Solus’ad order, and two members from his squad broke formation and made their way to the generator room.
Solus’ad moved ahead to where a young Mandalorian was standing still, looking into a room.
Judging from the pieces that were left. Two or more individuals had fought over a thermal detonator. Solus’ad put a hand on the soldiers shoulder and told him to move on. It was like this all the way into the central control room. The brand new Holo Table which had been transmitting the battles outcome to the Republic Officers, who were leading their men from behind the lines, lay broken in half. Chairs, tables, and readouts lay vacant. The mandalorians had fought to the last man, as had the republic. Now none were left. None to tell their tale. None to celebrate victory.
It appeared that the republic and won and lost the control room several times. That was when something caught Solus’ad’s breath. On a console near the central chamber, Mandalore’s helmet hung on a communications apparatus. Solus’ad slowly picked it up and brushed debris away. A small blaster hole was visible just above the left side of the visor. Solus’ad slipped his hand inside and poked a finger through the hole and wiggled it just to be sure. A sigh escaped his mouth.
“*ft* Sir, this is Argos. The reactor damage is catastrophic. There’s no way to restore power. *ft* It looks like republic charges were set intentionally. *ft*”
Solus’ad shook his head and gave the Order he had hoped he would never have to give. “*ft* Call in a transport. We are heading back to base. *ft*” Solus’ad turned around and took off his own helmet, and placed Mandalore's helm on his head.