Someone Order this Invasion to Go?

[Vex]

Heat lapped off the ablative armor of the Ghost Star as she hurtled through the atmosphere of Shogun and broke through, back ino the skies below. He had to hand it to the Mandalorians...they'd played this game well and it didn't take a military genius to realize that this situation was reaching the endgame. The Republic fleet was in tatters. They'd been spread too thin and had been made little more than lambs to the slaughter. Daryn had kept abreast of the reports going back forth over the comms...he needed to know when they wanted him back...once the missions were over. He hadn't been able to help but pace around in the cockpit. Waiting and patience weren't exactly the man's strong point...something that was going to be evident to anyone that spent more than a minute with him.

It had been almost a relief when, hours later, he finally heard the transport channel for the special ops missions crackle to life. He'd listened intently, throwing himself forward to lean against the console. There it was, finally...the request for exfiltration. He'd almost been elated, but he knew that things hadn't gone as simply as they would have hoped. He needed to get down there...needed to know if Lia and the rest were all right.

Especially Lia.

He had powered up the engines from their standby position. Docking control on the cruiser had already broadcasting his departure clearance. The repulsors kicked in, lifting the Star off the deck and easing it forward as he kicked in the rear maneuvering engines and brought him toward the bay entrance. As soon as he'd cleared it and was out into the black, he'd kicked the sublights in and blasted off toward the planet's surface, bringing him to this point as the heat abated an he sunk into the cloud cover.

Levelling out now, he set course for Alpha Team's position first, not trying to save the fuel cells. There were still pockets of fighting and the last thing he needed was to catch flak on the way to the rendezvous. Circling the base once to make sure the coast was clear for landing, he began to lower, opening up that secure comms channel for the team.

"Alpha Team this is the Ghost Star inbound on final descent. Final landing in less than two mikes. Unless you folks want to put down stakes and homestead, consider this your boarding call."

[Jace]

Exhilarating. That was the only word that could have described the situation he was experiencing. Yes, he had been injured, yes he had almost died but that was part of the fun. His once spotless armor was now covered with scratches, dents, but mostly blood and gore. No doubt he looked like the incarnation of evil itself to anyone else who wasn't a Mandalorian. Yet the only people around him right now were Mandalorians. All those that ran with him now bore the same marks as him. They had completed their objective, the invasion had begun, and they slaughtered countless Republic soldiers in the process. Just as he turned the next corner, his comm crackled to life.

"Alpha Team this is the Ghost Star inbound on final descent. Final landing in less than two mikes. Unless you folks want to put down stakes and homestead, consider this your boarding call."

Well it was good to know that their ride was on time. Bane figured they could have stolen a transport if necessary but that came with problems. They first had to locate and secure the vessel. Then they had to make sure that they weren't shot down by their own forces. All in all, more hassle than he really needed. It was good to know that this Daryn character was dependable. Otherwise the Mandalorian would have hunted him down and gutted him. Fortunately there was no need to, and Bane picked up the pace.

"Lets move people, Exfil in 90 seconds!"

Half a minute later, Bane could hear the sound of the Ghost Star approaching. There seemed to be no resistance which worried him at first until he realized that they were either dead or had run away.

Cowards

Even if death was inevitable, running away was beyond shameful. To even think of it, disgusted the Mandalorian to his very core. He pushed such thoughts aside as they burst into an open clearing. The sound of battle seemed to echo in the distance, no doubt the invasion had begun. The roaring of the Ghost Star's engines was louder though, and Bane rushed toward the ship. He waved his squad and those they had rescued into the ship. Now all they had to do was pick up Bravo team and hightail it back to command.

[Meira]

As the crowds of enemy soldiers dwindled into little or nothing, it seemed the Republic was getting the point. Shogun belonged to the Mandalorians. Perhaps there were still Republic soldiers fighting elsewhere, but if the quiet courtyard where the group of Spec-Ops soldiers was any indications, and invasion army seemed only a formality.

With the freed prisoners taking up arms, cleaning out the base had been easy enough. Trin didn't have much opportunity to speak with any of her newly freed vod, but it was obvious in their enthusiasm that they were quite happy with the change in their situation. They were vigorous fighting companions, full of zeal and a lust for revenge.

Trin just stood back and let them have the fun. They deserved it. Picking off and ending the suffering of those they'd left in their wake was enough for her. Comming down out of the combat high, it was actually a bit relaxing. Part of the old Trin found that to be a little strange, but Trin the Mandalorian was satiated.

Soon enough, their pick up call was coming in over the comm, and Trin tilted her head skyward to see if she could catch a glance of the Ghost Star. But it seemed the ship was too far out at the moment, so Trin fell in line with the General.

Soon enough the ship came into view, and the Mando's grouped together, waiting for it to come down and pick them up. Second on board, Trin turned and watched as Alpha Team, plus a few more piled in. She smiled behind her visor. Yet another victory.

Looking over at their leader, however, Trin had seen that he'd born a bit more of the brunt of the fight. She wanted to ask him of his status... but she held her tongue. It would be a fruitless endeavor. Bane would likely deny his injuries, and even if he didn't, she didn't have the know how to patch him up. In any case, he'd looked worse. So she kept quiet and waited for Itani to come aboard. When he'd made his way through the group to stand next to her, Trin removed her helmet.

The upper left side of her face had swollen slightly from the blow she'd recieved earlier, from her cheekbone to her temple. But the short woman grinned all the same up at the mysterious man she'd become so fond of.

Beat you.

She said the words in a sing-song voice, drawing out the second word slightly in a teasing manner. She'd even wagged her finger at the man, and poked him lightly in the chest. Technically, she'd stepped aboard the ship before him, effectively crossing the finish line first.

[Latus]

Whew, this really isn't my thing.

Itani had backed off, trying to catch his breath. The time seemed advantageous as any to him as the flow of republic soldiers slowed to a trickle and then vanished. Panting he slid behind a chest high wall and took stock. His situation weapon wise was not looking good. He was down to a handful of his special throwing knives and a longer thinner blade. The blaster he had lost beneath a pile of corpses and he was out of flash bangs. The rest he had used to great effect, embedded in exterior body parts on several poor schmucks. He chuckled to himself as the high from combat finally lost it's edge. Deep in the back of his mind he cursed at himself for not being ready but then again...

Don't act so surprised with yourself. As an assassin you live for the 50 meter, not the marathon. How many have you killed today? Divide that by itself and you get how many you would normally kill at any one job.

Shaking his head the mental dialogue ceased and Itani stood, hopping over the low wall. Casually sweeping the visible area he waited for the attack from the Republic soldiers that would never come. His eyes fell on Trin, Bane, and the others that had rendezvoused in the square; certainly a motley bunch. Motley but certainly capable. A burst of feedback in his helmet made him flinch and pause, listening for the incoming voice.

"Alpha Team this is the Ghost Star inbound on final descent. Final landing in less than two mikes. Unless you folks want to put down stakes and homestead, consider this your boarding call."

Itani smiled, appreciating the tinge of humor. In fact, it was the most incredible thing he had heard all day.

And that's our cue to exit.

Smile still vibrant he followed Bane's example and exited the courtyard with steps just a fraction of a stride longer and higher; truly he was feeling quite good about their lot and he was no longer out of breath. As their group ran they passed several of the doors sabotaged by his tampering none of which were open. One was partially open but not enough so for someone to fit through; success. Itani's smile broadened. After a time running they passed into a long thin passage with a wide view of the open sky. Glancing skyward Itani could see specks moving out of the atmosphere but none entering, save one. The assassin shook his head in amusement.

If every planet falls as easy as this Bane will have no trouble winning this war.

Therein lay the problem; every planet would not be as easy to take as Shogun. The question flashed through his mind, stay or go? Itani's breath came heavier now as they raced from the compound and into the open, the sleek form of the Star coming into view as it made it's final descent.

It took another several minutes before Alpha squad hit the boarding ramp of the escape ship. Tromping noisily up the ramp Itani passed between several of his comrades in arms and found a bare patch of wall, leaning up against it and panting heavily. It wasn't his lack of training, he realized, but the armor. Groaning he slid the helmet off his head, the mess of damp auburn hair coming falling around his ears in clumps. Breathing heavily he saw that, despite being in heavy combat, the armor was only slightly dirty and had a number of scorch marks on it that he could count on his hands. Combat test complete. Results... surprisingly good. The assassin knew that the usage of it would be restricted for him but it was certainly good to have. He would have to re-thank ba'buir Arc for the gift .

Beat you.

Trin's voice brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up at her from his exhausted position on the wall. Aside from the nasty swelling on her upper face and the combat gore on her armor she looked no worse for wear. He gave her a warm smile and shook his head.

Whew, heh. That you did, soldier girl. I'm wasted on cross country. We assassins are natural sprinters. VEEEEEERY dangerous over short distances.

Still breathing heavily he stood again and, through no stimulus of his own, caught Trin's gaze. Surprising he found it hard to look away. His cheeks felt warm. Forcing a weak smile he forced his gaze away which coincidentally fell on Bane, more specifically the gashed in his armor through which seeped a deep crimson. His concern hesitantly shifted to the commander. Glancing back at Trin he gave her another smile and moved toward his boss. Gingerly one hand found the General's shoulder and another moved to trace one wound then another.

Bane, don't mean to make serious of something, no really I don't, but you're bleeding. I can patch those up if you will let me...

He found it odd to ask to help someone but he didn't know who else was qualified. Realizing this might become a problem he gazed into the crowd of his comrades, Tarria, Xoxin, Kaarmine, Arcane, Rivas, Justic... at least they all appeared to be okay. Then there were the others. He didn't know them but they looked to be other Mandalorians, released prisoners by the look. Shaking his head he set to work removing his armor and getting his movement back and retrieving his surgeon's tools.

This is good work, honest work... at least I don't have to worry about a sneak attack from a disgruntled ex-client.

[Mara]

((Lat, Ambria is the team medic. ))



Quite disappointingly, the amount of living Republic soldiers still fighting in the courtyard were dwindling fast at the arms of the Mandalorians engaging them. Though Ambria knew their time was limited here--they had only been the advance team sent in to disable communications--she wished there were more targets to take down. She was having too much fun, and it was ending way too soon for her liking.

Cracking a soldier's head down upon her armored knee, enjoying the crunch the action made, she dropped him after twisting his neck, ending his pain. But hoping he would have continued suffering in the afterlife. The woman took a moment to look around her then, looking at the growing number of their group. They had been joined by the rest of Alpha team along with the rescued soldiers that the Republic had been holding captive. With the increase in numbers, the enemy had stood no chance against them. A little wistfully, Ambria had wished the rest had arrived a little later, giving her a chance to kill more herself. But she was all in all glad to see the rest of her comrades back safely. Though she didn't know some of them personally, they were all Mandalorian and, thus, all were her family.

The courtyard was mostly deserted then except for the armored warriors and the dozens upon dozens of bloody and maimed dead Republic soldiers littering the ground. Ambria had to walk slowly just to find some patches of grass to walk on. But she didn't, taking pleasure in further destroying the soldiers' bodies with her boots as she joined the others, who were also standing around, more than one or two looking as she did, wishing for more kills.

That was when she heard something through her helmet comm, almost startling her, it had been unused so long. Their ride was back. So the invasion force was already in, decimating any remaining soldiers that her team hadn't already killed. Their duty was over. A rush of pride came over her as she realized she had lived through yet another completed mission for the Cause.

She looked to the skies, spotting the Ghost Star just moments after she heard Bane echo the sentiments of... she didn't remember the man's name who was piloting their transport. And at the moment, Ambria didn't really care. Now that the adrenaline of the battle was slowly wearing off, she was beginning to feel the starting twinges of her sore muscles. She counted the hours until she was back in her quarters and taking a nice long hot bath. A smile came across her features as she thought about it.

Ambria got in line with the others before the ship's boarding ramp, following behind who she thought was Itani up into the Star. Inside, she slipped off her helmet, her tiredness leaving her as she realized her role, second only to her sniping skills--medic. Glancing over the others, she tried to look for injuries or wounds, but it was hard to tell with everyone still clad in their armor. She'd have to try something else.

Setting down her helmet near a wall, she pulled off a gauntlet and raised her fingers to mouth and whistled sharply, hoping to get everyone's attention. "Okay, is anyone here in need of bandages or anything?" she asked after the multitude of conversations died down. Though she had a few things attached in compartments on her armor, she had a more fully stocked medical bag stored in the ships small medbay. Ambria hoped she wouldn't have to use much of the kolto patches or medicine.

"Don't be heroes now; if you're hurt, I need to know now." Ambria added in a voice that wasn't asking to be trifled with. The dark-skinned woman's face hardened as she set her jaw, her emerald eyes looking over everyone assembled before her.

[Vex]

The Star had touched down as light as a feather, the ramp cycling open even before the ship's full weight had settled. One thing about these Special Ops guys: they were punctual. He saw the team coming out as he'd come down and that ramp hadn't even seemed to fully open before he began hearing the sounds of armored boots thumping up it. Good...the last thing he wanted was to do was stick around here any longer than necessary. After all, Lia was still out there with the rest of Bravo team. Once the last operative had gotten on board, he keyed in the ramp sequence again to close it.

"This is your Captain speaking. Due to the possibility of turbulent conditions and mobile anti-air fire, we request you remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened and keep your trays in the upright and locked position. Radar on the flyby gave the possibilities of running through unfriendly skies, so can Itani Firians please report to the cockpit. Just Itani Firians, General Haseful…the term ‘cockpit’ does not mean what you think.”

Pulling back on the yoke, fluttering the repulsors, he pushed the ship back off of the landing zone, angling the nose up as he engaged the sublights again and began angling toward the Bravo drop zone. They’d silenced the comms and defanged their anti-air defenses, but there were still mobile platforms out there, along with other ships and hand-held missile launchers. The Republic forces were in disarray and couldn’t communicate with each other in order to mount a concerted counter attack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still dangerous. The dogfighting between ships in the atmosphere and the explosions was paramount to that.

Daryn tried to keep flying low. The less radar signature they showed, the more likely they were to not be picked up and tracked until it was too late. The higher they were, the farther away someone could visually pick them up and track them.

Staying close to the ground was the safer bet. Besides, he hadn’t flown map of the earth for a while and it made things more interesting to have to skim along with each dip and ridge in the land…kept him sharp. It was one of the reasons that he picked up on the sensors when a trio of ships that the IFF painted a brilliant crimson showed up on their six. The fact that he’d missed them for so long could only mean one thing…they were flying pretty low too. Laser fire began to trace along either side of the cockpit as he rolled into evasive maneuvers, slapping the comms. “Itani…we’ve got a trio of dance partners demanding that this is our song. If you’d be so kind as to hurry your scrawny little butt up here, I could use a gunner.” He’d keyed the comms to end the transmission, but he couldn’t tell who heard him.

As the lock-on warning indicator went off, he cursed under his breath. Twisting the yoke to bank, he’d turn hard, foiling the lock so the missiles went straight. Until Itani got up there, he kept the ship weapons slaved in to his controls. He began bobbing and weaving, making the Star twists and flow far more nimbly than something her size should be. Coming out of a cork screw, he found himself behind one of the ships, tracking with the blasters and holding down the trigger. Flicking one of the switches, he armed the Star’s more “explosive” armament and hit the button, sending a pair streaking along, following the ship’s contrail for two heartbeats before hitting the ship with an impressive explosion. Twisting around in an uncontrolled spin with a plume of black following it, the ship began ot plummet down to the ground below.

Punching the speed, he began close the distance to the second base, throwing everything he had at the duo to make them miss. His ability to shoot was hampered by the need to react quickly and keep the Star dancing out of the enemy ships’ crosshairs. The result was him being just a hair’s breadth too late in firing and missing as he went to avoid the next volley.

They’d crossed over a canyon bed that lay along the way to the Bravo mission site. Angling the nose down, he poured on speed as he wove through the narrow passage to try and stave off their laser fire. One of the ships was just a bit too slow on making one of the turns, exploding as it impacted against the rock wall. Gaining altitude again, he yelled over to Itani when he finally showed up, lining up the shot. “Smoke this piece of gorram bantha poodoo already…”

By this point they were over the part of the canyons that led to
the Bravo mission site. Keying up the comms once more, he radioed out to them. “Bravo Team this is Ghost Star. We are coming in hot. I repeat, HOT. ETA is two, I repeat, two mikes. Get ready to depart. Our dance card is full without adding in more tangos with Republic flyboys.”

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

((to keep from mistakes happening, Lia's helmet STAYS ON through this whole thing...it never comes off. Also, side note: the only members of Bravo to return are Lia, Ark (with Sol's body) and Zeth...the others are dead or MIA/Presumed dead))

---

Itani, Trin and the Alpha team may have been having a jolly time during their half of the mission…but unfortunately the same could NOT be said for Italia and the few survivors of the Bravo team.

The chain of explosions that had gone off behind them in the munitions bunkers didn’t so much as phase the fiery red head that was leading the charge out of this twisted nightmare. Covered in gore such as she was, the woman felt she wore enough red for all those she’d killed and all those who had been killed or gone missing during their mission. Silently she cursed herself as they hightailed it through the base toward the front extraction point. By this time, of course, she was running low on blaster packs and her rifle was doing her more good anyway as she followed the schematics of the base that showed along one side of her HUD. It wasn’t easy seeing much of anything though, through the film of unshed tears of anger and sorrow…but she didn’t have time for that now…tears were for later, for now…for now all she could do was turn those tears into rage. Rage, persistence, energy….anything that would get what was left of their team out of this alive.

Babuir, Zeth, Mal, stay with me….we should be near the…kriffin’ hell in a hand basket…COVER!

The line of soldiers before them was bristling with blasters of all shapes and sizes had nearly blown her face off as she’d rounded a corner and taken those first running steps along the hall. She’d skidded to a halt and dove into the nearest opening she could find, two heavy slugs plowing their way from her rifle into the lines of men as she went. Luckily it was a short hallway she’d ducked into and with a swift look at her HUD display she finally began to believe they might make it out alive…maybe. Whipping out her handy dandy C4 and its detonator, she (not so gently) plastered it to the wall with one half of its detonator. Scrambling away she flattened herself into a small alcove and flipped on her com to the others.

I’m makin’ us a hole. Be ready ta go on my mark!

She just hoped Sol would last that long…she’d not heard anything from him in a while…not since….she didn’t have time to dwell on it. With a swift press of a button the thick wall of the compound was demolished.

Let’s go! Get a move on!

In a whirl of blue, black and red Lia took to flight once more, scrambling through the flaming rubble of the wall, kama trailing behind her like a blue and black banner studded with its white and gold writing. Muscles screamed at her as she felt the continuous trickle of warm blood down her hip and leg under her armor, and from her shoulder down along her side and back. Pre-damaged lungs burned from the exertion and threatened to send her into a fit of coughing…Lia was thanking her stars for the air filtering system her armor was equipped with. Without it, she very well might have started coughing long ago because of all the blaster smoke.

Babuir, I need you to help me clear a path, Mal keep an eye on our…

“Bravo Team this is Ghost Star. We are coming in hot. I repeat, HOT. ETA is two, I repeat, two mikes. Get read to depart. Our dance card is full without adding in more tangos with Republic flyboys.”

You have no IDEA how happy I am ta hear you flyboy…we’re tryin’ ta get the hell outta dodge, trust me on this. Tell someone we’ll need immediate medical support on stand-by if possible. Any an’ all we can get…Mandalore’s lookin’ grim…and the sooner ya get here the better! They’re not too happy with us takin’ out their munitions and aim ta have the last of us killed before ya get here if they can manage it.

Right about now, Daryn’s voice was like music to her ears. Their ride was on the way…now if only they could get there. Her voice, however, was about as grim and resigned as it could get as she shifted her sights around the area, panting as they ran. Top shape or not, it wasn’t exactly easy work doing what they were doing…especially not in full armor.

You heard him! Move it mandos, we got a ride ta catch!

Was Lia in charge? No…not really…she knew it too, but she doubted any of the others were going to order a last stand, and right about now, she wasn’t hearing much in the way of leadership. So with that said, she doubled her speed as she followed Ark through the last stretch of the compound. For a moment Mal’s voice caught her ears, but through her focus she just couldn’t quite comprehend what he’d said…perhaps he hadn’t said anything at all…at the moment Lia just couldn’t be certain. It almost sounded as if he’d said he was going to keep whoever was on their tails off of them while they got to the Star…or…something along those lines. Well, she HAD asked him to watch their six, so that would have made sense. Mentally she shrugged it off and kept running. A muffled groan caught her ear over the com and green eyes had gone immediately to Sol, hanging half limply over Ark’s shoulder. She’d done what she could to stem the bleeding…that stab wound he’d received in the neck joint of his armor was bad though. Luckily it had missed his artery but…

Mando…ika…

Oh Manda’s graces…

She flipped on her personal com and tapped the button on her gaunt to patch it to his.

Yeah Sol, I’m right here. We’re gonna get ya outta this, you hang in there, right? Gar shuk meh kyrayc, right?

A half coughed laugh escaped him and she winced behind that visor. No doubt he remembered her telling him that before…hell, she’d told him that not long ago…once on the Star on their way here, once when she’d half shoved him out of the way of an incoming slug round that would have punched a hole into the already stress-cracked helmet he wore…hell, she’d even told him in her dreams. She’d hurried up behind Ark to get as close as she could to the man she held closest to her heart.

Why the hell did ya have ta go an’ be such an utreekov, Solus’ad? Gettin’ yerself stabbed an’ the like…always tryin’ ta be a gorram hero…

Another, pained, half chuckle and he shook his head. Wasn’t it clear to her yet?...he wondered.

Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni, Lia. Ni liniba kar’taylir gar oyayc.

Green eyes widened behind that visor and a new wave of emotion threatened to overcome her. She’d told him the same thing on the Star just yesterday…“You’re no good to me dead, Lia. I need to know you’re alive.”

S-Sol…I…

Find your mirjahaal, Lia. Promise me that…

Mirjahaal? Healing? Peace of mind? No…he wasn’t about to be saying his goodbyes to her. “Not like this” she begged silently, “please not like this.”

K’atini, Sol! Little pain never hurt no one an’ you ain’t sayin’ your goodbyes yet…

Just promise me, Mando’ika, that you’ll find mirjahaal and keep your mandokar.

…but…

That’s…an order Italia…

I…yes, I promise…of course I promise, Sol, but…

Her throat closed against her and she was glad that this was over the personal com between them. They were nearing the end of the canyon now and she could see the lights of the Star as it rushed to meet them. They were almost there…he could make it, he WOULD make it…but both of them knew in their hearts that it just wasn’t going to be the truth of the matter. Slinging her rifle around so that she held it with one arm, a black gloved hand reached to grip his, squeezing it tightly. How could this happen this way? HOW?! Why?! Suddenly his voice broke her thoughts again, tired, drained, weak, soft and gentle.

Kar….kar’taylir…darasuum, Italia…

That flickering little flame, that spirited spitfire that Lia could be was nothing but a smoldering pile of dimly burning coals, even as she bit back the cry of rage and pain and sorrow. Even as she wanted to turn back and take down as many of those murderous bastards as she could before joining him in his fate. Even as she sniffled and blinked away the tears. He had told her that he loved her…and now he was about to...no, she just didn’t want to believe it, even though she knew it was true, she just didn’t want to believe that he was going to pass into the next realm.

Kar’taylir darasuum, riduur…udesiir Solus’ad…I’ll be safe enough soon, the Star is almost here…we’re almost th…there….Sol?...Sol! Solus’ad!

His grip on her hand had slackened to nothing as she’d told him they were almost to the Star, that reassuring pressure gone. She would have called to him more, but she…she just didn’t have the air to spend. The Star had come rumbling down, swinging around so they could board, waving the few members still alive on board, she trotted strait to the cockpit. Flipping her com to the open vocabulator, she turned to face the two men there.

What few of us are left, we’re here.

She hadn’t yet realized that Mal…wasn’t with them.

Get us the hell out of here Daryn.

Taking up the second station for the weapons, she powered up the consol and sat down, cold and dead voice only made more distinct by the canned and nearly monotone voice emulator of the suit.

[Dire Wolf]

((OOC: this doesn't exactly have a timeline to it. So don't think I'm trying to lift you guys off with this post 'r whatever. xD))

Mal's armored form lie there amongst the twisted corpses of Republic soldiers strewn about him in a gory circle. The great helm that protected his skull from blaster and blade alike had become little better than scrap after the fighting, and lie somewhere amidst the bodies. Next to a soldier with a shattered skull, the crimson starkly contrasting the metallic grey steel of his helm. His combat knife had become notched, and had since been thrown into the throat of another soldier. And his rifle? His hand still clutched its grip like it was his lifeline to valhalla. Or hell. Or wherever they send true warriors. The black aphisteel of its frame was dotted with the bloody streaks and splotches of human blood.

His huge shoulders heaved up, allowing his lungs to expand and air to fill the newly crafted void. The inhale was icy cold against the warmth of his lungs, and the exhale that caused his lungs to sink was long and ragged. Its wake picked up the dust that previously laid lazily on the duracrete, causing the particles to dance about in a seemingly random path until they settled down once more. Those bright sapphires in his eyes gazed off into the deck, a shiny gloss hung over them from his lack of blinking.

"Malak...," a familiar voice echoed through his skull. It caused those glossed over eyes to blink with the haste of a tree sloth. They refused to open for a brief moment, and in that brief moment the voice returned, "get up." His eyes shot open to reveal the somewhat rustic interior of his old farm house. Granted, the light that slipped through the curtains was overly bright... and everything was fuzzy, like a camera that was out of focus.

But of course, the smiling face of his late betrothed laying beside him. Soon enough he felt her considerably smaller hand against his cheek, which carried the scruff of a day or two without shaving. It was something that he hadn't felt in a decade. "Get up. I swear, Malak, if you let yourself die I will come back from chaos and kill you myself. Get. Up." her voice was warm and comforting, despite the words behind it.

A light growl rumbled at his vocal chords as he blinked once more, substituting the soft linens for the drab grey duracrete. He released his grip on that massive magnetic slug thrower only to plant his hand on the rough duracrete and force his torso up. Once he struggled his way up to his knees, the man grabbed his rifle once more and struggled up to a shaky standing position.

With his massive arm pressed against that still bleeding wound, Mal set off... his leg refusing to step forward in a natural motion.

\____/
Thirty minutes earlier

A great roar crashed out of the man's throat as his rifle crashed into the armored skull of a soldier, shattering the fragile bone like it was glass. The soldier simply slumped to the ground, his legs crumpling like a house of cards under his weight. Without missing a single beat, Mal brought that jet black bfg about... unloading bullet after bullet into the crowd in his passing.

He'd stayed behind for one sole purpose: Allow Lia, his vod, and what other mando'ade survived the botched mission that killed Mandalore. His lip snarled behind his visor at the thought. Someone had better pay for the royal screw up in equipment that took place. Dearly.

In a blurr of motion, the "T" of Mal's vision kinked down violently after the bolt of plasma crashed into the rear of the thick steel. The floating green lines of his HUD quickly began to warble around violently before winking out. Leaving him in the dark. Another feral growl rumbled his vocal chords as he ripped the helmet off and cast it into the skull of the nearest soldier, turning it to dust.

The large man pointed his rifle in the general direction of one man, only to find that his power cell had depleted. With a growl he let his rifle drop, the sling on his shoulder catching it mid-fall, and drew his combat knife. Compared to a normal human this knife would be more like a short sword, which did wonders for inspiring fear within his enemies' hearts.

Mal moved pretty fast for an eight foot tall, four hundred pound berserker. The man lunged forward, forcing his blade to bury itself deep within his armored chest. A bloodcurdling scream racked itself out of the man's throat before wet gurgles replaced it. Mal had yanked his knife out of the man's chest and dragged the blade across his throat... silencing him forever.

Blaster bolts threw themselves against the thick mandalorian iron that comprised his armor, but his suit refused to give way. At first. Where the bolts hit metal. The rest of his body, however, gave much way. Much way indeed. After his blade sunk through more than a few men's armor, he threw it into some soldier's throat. It took less than a heartbeat for the man to slap in a new power cell and begin rockin' and rollin' once again.

"Aruetii...," Mal rasped through his ear piece. At this point in time, he could easily shift the following comment into one of two. The first being a simple "go boff yourself" which, while tempting and hella funny, would leave Lia in a less than happy position. He definitely didn't want his vod remembering those being his last words. The second was... lighter. But, it also implied that he approved of the little puke. "You'd best take care of my vod. Treat 'er right. She is now the most important thing in your life. If not... I swear to the nine and the Force, I'll come back and drag you straight down to chaos with me."

Granted, the sounds of his rifle flinging 15 millimeter slugs at hypersonic speeds, screams, and blaster discharges plagued that little break in communication discipline... but it was worth it. After he spoke his peace, he reached up and crushed the little thing in his iron grasp. Barring the man from any snarky reply that was probably already forming at his lips. "And go boff yourself," he mumbled just before whipping his great steel rifle about and crushing it into another man's chest.

He was about to unload another round into a soldier who tried to slip past when a huge starship shaped blurr whipped overhead. Followed quickly by the whine of the ship's engines and powerful wake of wind. Before he knew it, the man was on his back and vulnerable as a baby seal. Knowing that didn't help him in the least, of course, because... while he was fast for a four hundred pound brick. Mal wasn't that fast. Soon enough, the man saw a brave republic soldier sprint up between his legs and shove a vibrosword into the exposed bit of cloth just above his belt and below his chest plate.

An explosion of pain rippled up his chest at the violent humming of the blade. And that explosion renewed itself with each movement of the ever scintillating blade. Mal, never being one to give in to pain, whipped the front of his rifle into the man's ribs, crushing them underneath its weight and momentum. With a heavy pant, the man wrapped his hand around the hilt of the sword and pulled it out of his belly with a wet shlick!

His other arm, the one holding his rifle, slowly angled itself around and began unloading on the soldiers as he worked his way up to his feet. Unfortunately, the soldier behind him had a different idea. One that involved his friends surviving and this gigantic beast of a man dieing. So, he simply unloaded his blaster's sizable power cell into his back until he fell into the dust. Presumably dead.

With the final Mando dead, they whipped around and sped back through the base to try and assist in putting out the fires.

\____/
Present

Mal had to get the hell away from the base. Soon. He wasn't running away out of fear, he was a Mandalorian. The behemoth was simply falling back to fight another day. His death while holding off the bulk of Republican soldiers meant something. His death after the fact meant little. Not even little. Less than nothing. "Your life is worth more than this base, Malak. And don't try to lie to me. I'm in your brains," a small, but pained, smirk creased his lips at the thought. That was just like her, too.

Unfortunately, the perimeter guards saw the behemoth of a man limp towards the gate, and promptly whipped their blasters about. Granted, his death meant little at the moment... but his capture was a gigantic humiliation. His rifle quickly whipped towards the guards, unloading bullet after bullet into each perimeter guard. At least most of them. Malak managed to down two or three before a hail of stun-bolts rained in, slamming into his form.

Mal was face first in the dirt after the first salvo. But he was far from dead. He'd wake up in the stockade of the base, fortunately... he'd wake up to Mandalorians killing every last soldier in the stocks. Guess who got to fight another day?

[Latus]

(heh, fair enough Mara)

A few moments after loading, the rear hatch of the Star closed and lifted off, one half of it's return duty complete. Though the Alpha op was over, the cargo hold was soon a flurry of activity as the two trained in battlefield medicine began to ply their craft. Though he probably knew nearly as much as Ambria when it came to suturing and sewing, Itani regulated himself to the lesser duties such as bandaging and surgical support; yeah, so she has it covered. So what? The bulk of their small group was soon bloodless and mending and the pair turned their attention to the more serious wounds with scalpel and forceps at the ready. The assassin felt right as they worked, enjoying the feeling of being a walking double standard. The irony made him laugh on several different occasions as critical wounds were made right. However, he couldn't deny, irony or no, that he was enjoying the change of pace. As Ambria began on the last of the truly injured patients Itani felt a twinge of uselessness as he stood over her shoulder to watch her deft handed work.

Re-visit that cut, there's something still in it. Itani paused as she finished sewing. I'm bothering you, aren't I?

All of a sudden Itani stumbled back into the panel behind him as the ship shifted in flight. It was followed shortly after by a sharp crackling from the intercom;

“Itani…we’ve got a trio of dance partners demanding that this is our song. If you’d be so kind as to hurry your scrawny little butt up here, I could use a gunner.”

Paging Doctor Itani, I see. Excuse me.

From one extreme to another in a matter of minutes. What a day. Though his thoughts could have made him laugh Itani had a look of seriousness etched across his face as he made his way through the halls and passages of the small ship. Every now and again he was forced to brace himself on the walls to keep from toppling over. Evasive maneuvers? Didn't think they had interceptors in this sector. After a few more tense moments the assassin stumbled through the automatic cockpit door and found his way to the co-pilot seat. Strapping in he swiveled around until he was face to face with the control panel complete with a gun control. Flicking the appropriate feeds he slaved control of the starboard quad laser turret to his column.

Late for the party? That won't do. I'll take it by the tone of your voice and the sweating that you missed me. Itani's weight shifted to one side as Daryn put the Star into a spin. Giving a dry chuckle he looked down, his face becoming stained by a pale light as the gun camera came online. Now this is my kind of song. Time to find me a dance partner!

From the screen he could see that there were only two Republic fighters maintaining a tail on the Star. Breathing out the assassin eyed the readout as the target bobbed back and forth trying to read its movements. A moment later it froze in the middle of the screen and he pulled the trigger. The salvo of red lasers flew wide of his target and he cursed forgetting to take the movement of both the target and the Star into account. Readjusting his targeting he found that he couldn't get the target to stand still. Gorram... stop movin' around!Feck it. Holding the trigger down the cannon was soon spraying rounds into the sky as Itani tried to follow the target on screen. Tweaking the control stick quickly to one side he breathed in as a blast hit the republic fighter below the canopy vaporizing the nose.

Out of the corner of his eyes Itani saw the terrain changing until the Star sailed over the canyon that he had seen in the readouts. They were getting close.

“Smoke this piece of gorram bantha poodoo already…”

Don't you know that straight level flying is best when you have a gunner?! They could take a lesson in it too.

Cringing at Daryn's announcement of only two mikes out Itani redoubled his concentration on his gun screen, still unable to get a solid lock on. The force is... As the thought begins several of his shots score the tips of the pursuing fighter's port wing forcing it to lose altitude and slam into one of the canyon walls. dead with this one.

We're clear Daryn. Make this landing a fast one...

Itani was sure he didn't have to tell him twice.

**********

Moments later the Star had touched down and Beta team was pouring in. Among them was Italia who looked terribly worse for wear. Worry flooded Itani's mind but he managed to suppress it. They would be out of atmo soon and he could see to her wounds then.

Good to have you back in one piece, sis.

Saying no more he turned back to the console and swiveled it around, searching for targets.

[Mr.Bøbert]

"Babuir, Zeth, Mal, stay with me….we should be near the…kriffin’ hell in a hand basket…COVER!" Zeth was already diving even before the last word had fully come across his comm as the remnants of the Bravo team rounded a corner-- right into an ambush.

His dive turned into a roll which brought him across the hallway and into a doorway, safe from the angry red blaster bolts that came from the Republic Soldiers' blasters. For the moment.

Zeth hugged the wall and whipped out one of his pistols, then blindly fired down the hallway repeatedly. He heard a few grunts, and hoped he had gotten more then a few of the soldiers. As blaster bolts ate away at the corner of the wall, an explosion shook the ground.

The soldiers stopped firing for a moment, which Zeth used to get to the hole in the wall. He drew his other pistol and ran back through the hallway, firing to keep the soldiers pinned behind cover. Then he dove through the hole.

"Babuir, I need you to help me clear a path, Mal keep an eye on our--"

“Bravo Team this is Ghost Star. We are coming in hot. I repeat, HOT. ETA is two, I repeat, two mikes. Get read to depart. Our dance card is full without adding in more tangos with Republic flyboys.”

"You have no IDEA how happy I am ta hear you flyboy…we’re tryin’ ta get the hell outta dodge, trust me on this. Tell someone we’ll need immediate medical support on stand-by if possible. Any an’ all we can get…Mandalore’s lookin’ grim…and the sooner ya get here the better! They’re not too happy with us takin’ out their munitions and aim ta have the last of us killed before ya get here if they can manage it. You heard him! Move it mandos, we got a ride ta catch!"

As they ran, Zeth turned and aimed his arm at the hole they had just come through. As expected, red blaster bolts began shooting from their new door. With a quiet order to his suit, his last rocket went screaming from his wrist launcher. The glow from it's flame lit the horrified faces of the Republic Soldiers for a split second before it exploded.

Zeth turned back to where the ship had just put down, and realized that, aside from a few bruises and scratches, he had gotten through the mission without any major injuries. That surprised him, because--

Before his thought finished, the corpse of a lone Republic soldier leapt up, vibroknife in hand, and plunged the blade into the thin suit between Zeth's beskar chestplate and his left shoulder plate.

Zeth let out a cry of surprised pain, but swung his right hand into the soldier's throat, knocking him down, gasping for air. Zeth pulled the still-vibrating knife slowly out of his flesh, which made it feel as if his muscles were on fire on the inside.

"A brave move..." he gasped. "But a foolish one."

He slit the throat of the soldier with his own weapon, then ran to the ship, gripping his shoulder. Once inside, he fell to the floor, exhausted, and pulled off his helmet, breathing in the wonderful stale-smelling recycled ship air. He'd made it.

[Vex]

(New Posting Order: Daryn, Bane, Trin, Itani, Ambria, Lia, Zeth)

"Yeah, yeah, Itani. Lemme go and hail the pilots and remind them to fly straight so you can aim better. I'm sure it’s just some sort of misunderstanding. Frelling belly-aching Mando'ade...manages to take out one measly Republic base and now you get lazy..." He had been trying to keep the ship lined up, but he wasn't a Force-User...he couldn't quite discern what the pilot was doing before he did it. Thankfully, he finally managed to get Itani lined up...he felt bad that there was a certain amount of satisfaction in seeing the Republic fighter go down. It was still his Republic...or was it now? At this point, he was pretty gorram certain that he was a traitor and if they found out, he was going to take a long walk to a short firing line.

The adrenaline was practically singing in his ears.

He whipped the aft of that ship around as he saw the stragglers from the Bravo mission coming out. He only had a chance to glance...but he was quick enough to know that there weren't as many armored bodies there as there should be. He also saw that at least one was being carried. He dropped that ship down, cycling the hatch again to open it up. At least, he saw, that Lia was with them. The sound of her voice in the comms had been a relief, but seeing her still mobile and leading the group...that was what had the sick feeling in his stomach lessening.

It only lasted until he heard Malak chime up on his personal communications line. Itani, being there in the cockpit, would be able to hear it to. There simply wasn't a way to avoid it. "Aruetii...You'd best take care of my vod. Treat 'er right. She is now the most important thing in your life. If not... I swear to the nine and the Force, I'll come back and drag you straight down to chaos with me." He sat there, stunned for a moment, realizing who it was and what it meant. He heard the connection break then and could only assume the worst.

Finally, he clenched his jaw, determination covering those normally bemused features. Despite their differences, Malak and he had a lot in common. Well, maybe only one thing…but that one thing was the most important: Italia. Nodding his head, he spoke low, hoping the intent reached the big Mandalorian through the Force, if nothing else. “You have my word.”

As soon as the remnants of Bravo were on the ship, he cycled that lock once more to seal everyone up so he could take off. Hitting the repulsors, he lifted the Star off of the ground, swinging the front around towards the base. Some of the intrepid Republic defenders had come out…still chasing the Mandalorian troops. Daryn spoke, but his words held none of their usual, jovial tone. His voice was cold, dark, and unforgiving. “Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur…like you.”

He’d play with that control yoke so that those weapons could strafe back and forth over the Republic soldiers, taking control of them from Itani. Only when the landing zone was clear did he ignite the sublights once more and pull off, away from the base.

“Itani…you’ve got some medical skills, right? I think they might need you more back there right now.”

[Jace]

Trin, Itani, Ambria, Justic and the prisoners. Good everyone had made it, he wondered if the same would be said for Bravo team.Well we will find out soon he thought as he the ship began to take off. It seemed that they weren't exactly out of the woods yet. There still seemed to be a decent amount of resistance left. He was jarred out of thought when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"Bane, don't mean to make serious of something, no really I don't, but you're bleeding. I can patch those up if you will let me..."

Bane turned to see Itani, and then looked down to his side at the cut. It wasn't exactly life threatening but losing too much blood wouldn't exactly be advisable. The Mandalorian merely grunted the go ahead to patch him up. He may be needed once they returned to command, possibly to go back into the field. It was best to get patched up while he could, who knew when he would get another chance. As Itani was patching him, the ship jerked roughly, followed by the call for Itani's assistance up front.

"Go, Ambria can finish the rest" He told Itani.

Things didn't sound like they were going to well up there. Also, Bane didn't really get Darin's 'cockpit' reference but he was sure that the kid was trying to be smart. If the man wasn't flying right now, Bane would have busted his face open but there were other times for that. Honestly, he was quite forgiving compared to many of the other commanders. It was something that he would have to remember to work on.

It seemed that after minutes of some tense evasive maneuvers that they had arrived at Bravo's pick up zone. The landing ramp descended and Bravo team, or what was left of them boarded. Italia, Zeth, and Ark with...Mandalore's body. He didn't need to get up to see that Mandalore was dead. Only Bane's extensive battlefield experience kept him from revealing his true emotions at such a time.

This man was not only his leader, but also his mentor. It was hard to believe that such a soldier as Mandalore could have died. He knew it was naive to believe otherwise but it was still hard for Bane to grasp. Even Malak, to think that such a soldier could have died. His only consolation was that it could have only been a glorious death.

He pushed these thoughts aside though, there would be a time for mourning, now wasn't it. Bane made to contact the bridge, he needed a status report from Italia but stopped midway. Chances were she was needed up there at the moment. The Mandalorian general merely sighed, and hoped that he could at least get the rest of his remaining troops out in one piece. They had all done an excellent job, it was time to leave it up to the rest of the military.

[Meira]

Trin had returned Itani's smile, her own cheeks flushing as his had. But she didn't notice this. Trin's mind was focused on breathing now. She'd gotten in her joke, and now Itani was turning away to make himself more useful with the injured. So she leaned her head back against the cold metal wall of the ship, closed her eyes, and just breathed.

Things were getting tight. She knew this. She was a step ahead of the odds. No, come to think of it, she was a good two or three steps ahead. Two. Yes, the nasty swelling on her face had surely knocked her back a step, right? But she was still ahead of the game. Three big missions now, and not too much blood to show for it. Was she lucky? Was she too safe? Surely it couldn't all be accounted for skill. Trin's eyes found Bane as he was being patched up. No, it was either luck or the fact that as a tech she just wasn't always in the thick of it like the others. In any case... she wasn't bleeding enough.

Now there was a stupid thought. Trin slumped down, allowing herself to sit down on the floor as the transport banked and Daryn called for Itani's help. How could she be thinking like that? She was damn lucky to be in the state she was in. And what was so wrong with luck? What was so wrong with getting out of a fight and still having 90% of her blood inside her body where it belonged? For all the talk Trin had heard about the glory of dying in battle, she was still fairly certain that surviving one was just as good. Maybe she just wasn't Mando enough yet. Maybe after a few more years... No. There was nothing wrong with making it out of a scrap alive.

The ship touched down for Bravo Team and Trin was stirred from her musings as her vod trudged up the ramp and into the hold... but not all of them came... and not all of them came on their own two feet. Trin recognized the armor immediately. But that recognition settled somewhere in the back of her mind at first, as if her brain wasn't willing to allow it to pass through to the frontal cortex where her reason would process it and deal with it. No, it sat in the more primitive areas deep inside her brain, in the amygdala, where it caused one neuron after the next to fire out one of the only two sensations that area of her brain could produce: Fear.

It started with a shot of adrenalin that moved quickly from the nerves to the blood stream and straight to the heart. The neurotransmitter stimulated that muscle and soon her heart continued the flow to her lungs. Those lungs reacted by working overtime to bring in more oxygen, which was sent back to the heart and then, with the adrenalin, to the rest of her body. Without conscious thought, Trin stood to her feet and stepped forward a few steps until she stood close enough to see the man's face. Mandalore... dead.

Her head swam as her chest rose and fell. She was bringing in too much oxygen, hyperventilating. She turned away, swaying slightly as she did, and almost stumbled into Bane. Her torso fell forward, but she caught herself with her hands on her knees. Her vision was blurry as she fought to control her breathing. How could Mandalore be dead? Of all of them, why him?

Not gone... Nu kyr'adyc... Not gone...

She gasped, fighting to control the flow of air in her body, willing her heart to slow down, trying desperately to remember the words in Mando'a.

Nu kyr'adyc... just.... shi taab'echaaj'la.

She sighed the last of the words out as she slowly stood back up straight. She closed her eyes, could feel the adrenalin that had so quickly flooded her fade, and took another breath. When she opened her eyes, they caught sight of Bane.

Right? Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la?

[Latus]

As Itani had suggested, the time spent stationary on the ground was negligible. However it was by no stretch of the imagination that he had nothing to do with that; Daryn was indeed one hell of a pilot. In the few moments that the ship had sat still he heard the cargo hold filled with the sounds of soldiers but not in the way he would imagine it. He could hear them through the cockpit door and all the way down the hall but it was more reserved that before. Itani could tell the number to return was a fraction of what had gone on mission. As the Star lifted from the deck and Itani was allowed time to catch his breath he realized, Bravo Team hadn't had such an easy time. It only took a quick glance at Italia, his sister and warrior woman supreme to see that she wasn't holding herself the same. She was seated straight as a razor in the co-pilot seat holding all of her stress in her posture; not the sister who he parted with only a few hours ago. Looking back down at the console there were only a small handful of things that came to his mind as what would trouble her in such a way, none of them pleasant to look at. A crackling from the Star's com link and Mal's voice clenched one theory.

"You'd best take care of my vod. Treat 'er right. She is now the most important thing in your life. If not... I swear to the nine and the Force, I'll come back and drag you straight down to chaos with me."

The assassin cringed as the thought of the massive man's death crept into his mind. It wasn't that Mal had died but what it must have taken to bring him down that made him shiver. He shook his head to clear the image and scowled. I didn't see his body. He isn't dead until I see his body! Such was his mantra, what he had lived by for years, decades. It was a good methodology, to stand over the dead body or watch someone zip it into a body bag before pronouncing it dead. The words struck a chord, too; they were about Daryn and Italia. While the assassin had his reservations about the pilot, Malak's "blessing" brought those feelings just a little closer to nonexistence. In his heart, as the Star passed over and away from the compound, Itani thought he saw the form of the Aphithiri warrior. A moment later he shook his head, such childish fantasies were not healthy. He was so transfixed on his thoughts that when Daryn spoke and slaved the turret controls from him Itani almost said something. For once, the assassin's clever sense of humor was miles away. He had the quips picked out but, well, this was hardly the time.

“Itani…you’ve got some medical skills, right? I think they might need you more back there right now.”

On it.

Glancing at the pilot he stood and turned toward the door. He didn't speak nor touch his sister for he knew there probably wasn't a thing he could say that would not sound foolish in his own ears. His eyes were then drawn to the cuts; a pair of them that he could tell, not to mention the blood seeping through the armor and staining the seat. Oh... Moving to her side he saw that, while seeping blood they weren't AS deep as he thought they were. He was torn; Daryn needed a gunner for the Star but Itani wanted to see his sister fixed up, by his own hand if possible. Cringing and putting his hand on her shoulder he chose the former. His voice was bright and cocky, the last he would know for a while; he could tell things were going to get bad soon but there was only so much he could do.

When we get clear you get your ass back to the med bay, got it ner vod? K'oyacyi.

Turning away without another word he slipped silently but quickly out of the cockpit. He passed through the door to the bridge and broke into a jog, slipping past doors and over the metal flooring without a sound. The sound of those who returned became louder as he approached the entrance to the cargo bay. The sound made his heart rate climb, something he was so used to causing was now the sound he wanted to silence. Ironic. As the door opened and shut behind him he was rolling his sleeves up and stooping to pick up what remained of his surgeons kit. Those healing were still there along with the blood soaked members of Bravo team. Glancing about he saw what he knew had come to pass just not to what extent; the lifeless body of Mandalore Solus'ad being cradled in the massive robotic arms of his Grandfather Ark. Cringing he summoned whatever commanding voice he was able and spoke at a level that was above the din of the cargo hold. He didn't know nor care if he was breaking protocol; people were bleeding out and those on the mend were in his way. Itani's voice came out powerful and confident, a stark contrast to the light persona from only a few moments ago.

Listen up. Everyone not dead or dieing clear out and go back to your quarters! The surgeons need space to work in and there is not a lot of it to go around.

His gaze then hit Trin who was looking distraught, seeing Mandalore he knew instantly why. Stepping between a few mended soldiers he put his hand on her shoulder until she finally looked at him. Please Trin. Not knowing what else to do he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. Yes, Mandalore was dead. However, if he and Ambria were able to see to the other quick enough they would only have to bury one dead leader today. Stepping toward the injured he withdrew a pair of sanitary gloves and made ready. He was sure Ambria would take the worst cases to the med-bay but he could see to the less serious examples where they sat. Selecting one who had the most obvious injuries he set to work. If I can help it, not another will die today.

[Mara]

((I'm not sure who was hurt where and how, so I'll be general about it)).


Begrudgingly, it seemed to her mind, those from Alpha team who were injured came to her for a brief triage so she could decide who was hurt the worst and needed the most immediate attention. Even the tough Mandos, the members of her team preferred to downplay their wounds. This made her proud of her fellow soldiers in a small part of her mind as she forced them all to turn around before her so she could check for blood. Current, flowing blood, not dried blood from the Republic dogs.

After deciphering an order of who needed to be treated first and all the way down to the end, she had gone to get her medbag from where she had stored it before leaving Concord Dawn. Of course, when she had returned the general had put himself in the back of the line, even after she had determined he needed quicker attention than that. Ambria let him stay where he was, knowing he nor anyone else who had returned from the courtyard with her, including the returned captured members, had any major or fatal injuries.

To make it go faster, knowing they would be arriving to pick up the other half of their team, Bravo, soon, she engaged the help of Itani, having figured out he was a fair hand at her trade on the previous mission. Quickly and efficiently she cleaned wounds, stitching them closed and bandaging them up. Her mind had already forgotten the recent battle for the moment, so intent was she on her work. She was used to working alone in the field, dressing wounds, not because she liked it but because generally there was no one else who had even the slightest medical knowledge. And so even though she was glad for the help of Itani, she rather purposefully had forgotten about him, too. Not noticing what he was doing or saying.

At least, until he was called away by their pilot. She barely heard the comm message's entire contents, but caught the man leaving out of the corner of her eye. Ambria finished tying her bandage and looked around the room more closely then, realizing Itani had left in the middle of a stitch on the general. Shaking her head briefly, she went to Bane, as always the last to be fixed up. She managed to patch up the Mandalorian general without any further damage, despite the bucking of the ship at times.

Done, she sent him on his way to do whatever he needed to do and stood up to stretch. Just in time, too, because she could feel the Star coming in for a landing to pick up the members of Bravo team. Her medical supplies still lay out on the floor near her feet and she turned her head towards the hatch to watch who entered for injuries. Alpha had escaped relatively unscathed, but the same couldn't be said for Bravo team.

Ambria barely had the time to register that they were coming on board when she saw Italia. She went a couple paces to check her, but she was gone, on to the cockpit. No energy to argue, knowing that her brother was up there if she needed it, she turned her gaze back for the others. The others... what was left of them.

Her grim and determined expression of earlier melted away, her emerald eyes losing their luster. She almost didn't want to believe her eyes, actually going to the ramp to look out before it closed up and the ship began to ascend again. Where were all the others? Where was Mal? After Italia effectively stormed off to the front of the Star, only three others came aboard, two by their own power. A soldier she didn't recognize and Ark the machine Mandalorian carrying a set of familiar armor still encased around its owner.

Mandalore. Their leader. If he wasn't dead yet, he was close to it, laying in the metal embrace of the warrior cyborg. And yet Ambria couldn't will her legs to move, frozen as they were to the steel of the ship's decking. All her medical experience vanished briefly as her mind tried to wrap around the meaning of what she was seeing. Tunnel vision captured her. In the years serving in the army she had seen plenty of soldiers die by her side, friends and strangers, but all Mandalorian. But this was different. This was the epitome of their culture lying prone directly in front of her eyes across the hangar.

She had to finally pull her gaze away from the limp form when she heard Itani's voice. Ambria's focus snapped back into place; she would have to thank the man later. For now, though, she had a job to do. Assuming the other had already taken care of his sister, he had moved to check on the soldier she didn't know, Zeth. That left only one, as any injuries to Ark were something she didn't know how to fix. Swallowing her emotion, she walked slowly forward to the body of Mandalore.

With trembling fingers and a small part of her brain hoping he was still clinging to life, she reached forward, slowly checking all the wounds. Thankfully Ark bent down his arms so she could do so more easily. Not all the wounds were mortal, but she could tell a few had been. Slowly she pressed a couple fingers to his carotid in his neck and the small hope she had been holding onto desperately ripped away. With a deep breath she closed the man's eyelids. There was nothing more she could do for him now; he was beyond her care now.

Gathering up some strength she found her voice and instructed Ark to take him back into the medbay and lay him down. No one else from Bravo looked injured enough to need the bed, and she didn't want the cyborg standing there in the hangar all throughout the trip hanging onto Mandalore's body. They could mourn later. First they had to get home in one piece. She laid a sheet over the body of her leader after saying a short prayer in Mand'oa before heading back to check on Itani.

Zeth taken care of, and finishing touches on Alpha, left only Italia left. Ambria nodded to Itani then towards the direction of the cockpit. "You can go. Tend your sister. She needs you for more than physical injuries." She laid a hand on his shoulder then turned from him to go back up her medbag, thinking lots of thoughts to herself, foremost on her mind lay the future of the Mandalorians.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

(yes, this post is le suck. no i dont really care. yay headaches ~.~)


"Aruetii...You'd best take care of my vod. Treat 'er right. She is now the most important thing in your life. If not... I swear to the nine and the Force, I'll come back and drag you straight down to chaos with me."

Gorramit Malak! Get yer big kriffin’ utreekov arse up ta this gorram ship, ya hear me?!

She’d not given a rip about the fact that he was talking, the vocabulator on her helm barely masking the hurt frustration and sorrow that had built up into a burning anger and commanding tone in her voice as she talked over him. Certainly she heard what he’d said…but it was only fuel for the fire, and it was all she could do not to slam a fist into the controls in front of her. She heard the mic pop for a moment and become silent. If she’d been out there with him…if she’d known he’d fallen behind…

“You have my word. Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur…like you.”

It didn’t mean much to her mind at the moment…the fact that the one man on this ship who hated killing was willingly killing Republic soldiers, but it would later. Once it had time to sink in fully. She swiftly tuned the other two out as she checked the cannons once more, making sure they were online. Just as she was sure everything checked out alright, Itani’s voice reached her ears.

“When we get clear, you get your ass back to the med bay, got it ner vod? K’oyacyi.”

Yeah yeah.

She waved a dismissive hand at him, as her eyes scanned over the readouts through wet lashes. As the Star lifted, she took control of the turrets also, bringing them to bear on the first target she saw on the radar. After a moment of fighting to keep the dratted thing in her cross hairs, she let out a volley of fire that sent the fighter spiraling away before slamming against the walls of the canyon in a shower of flames, sparks and debris.

[Mr.Bøbert]

((Err....I'm not really sure there's much Zeth can do here atm. And besides, I'm not sure I'm up to typing out a big 'ol post right now. I've been working 24/7 (okay, not quite 24/7, but close enough) on school for two weeks... Mah brain iz dead. So just pretend Zeth is just... doing... something. <.< Sorry. ))

[Vex]

(Sorry about the delay, ya'll)



Daryn throttled the Star forward, keeping the nose lined up to make Lia’s shots as simple as possible. They needed to get out of here, but they weren’t going to be getting very far if they didn’t manage to take out threats coming their way.

Pulling hard on the yoke, he flipped the Star into a twisting corkscrew, managing to dance around the strafing shots of the wingman of the fighter she’d just shot down. Warning sirens went off, the control board lighting up signaling a missile lock on the ship. “Frellin’ ‘ell….Hold on!” He didn’t have time to give any more warning to those riding in the back. Hopefully they were strapped in, holding on, or otherwise prepared, because he killed the forward thrust and shifted the attitude thrusters to put extra power into their sudden drop. He watched the contrails of the missiles as they streaked by a few meters overhead. Forcing the stick all the way forward, he reinitiated thrust, angling back down toward the ground.

“Gorrammit, Lia, really wish we could have fit everyone onto Ante Up. Your boys did a bang up job on the Star, but she still doesn’t have the maneuverability. Girl’s got a big arse! She can’t keep up with my tango and our dance card is looking to fill up quick.” The radar was showing more Republic forces in the air. They weren’t organized, able to communicate, or backed up with anti-air support, but that didn’t make their weaponry any less deadly if it managed to hit them. Even with the rest of the conventional Mandalorian forces pouring in, the Republic wasn’t going to go down without swinging. The Mando’ade might consider them soft, but any dog backed into a corner is dangerous.

“Lia…three closing on our six. Mind getting rid of them? I don’t want anyone cutting in on our dance.” Levelling out the Star, he brought the nose up again, mapping the contours of the ground before he climbed back up, juking the ship around to avoid the long-distance laser fire that was reaching out toward them from behind. It was just within the maximum range of the fighter’s weapons…they were getting the range down. He kept the ship as level as he could so that she'd have a clear line of fire, but he had to pull off and try breaking contact when the console began to warn him of attempted lock-ons.

One of the fighters went down in flames from her return fire, forcing the other two to scramble a bit and giving them some more breathing room. With them both still on the Star's tail though, they couldn't get too comfortable. While she kept up the running gun battle, he kept on flying, trying to get to one of the main Mandalorian orbital landing zones. There were bound to be more anti-ship platforms there that could help get rid of the two gnats that were harassing them.

The problem was getting there.

Just then a solid tone came over the speakers and he pulled the yoke hard to the right, feet moving over the pedals as he pulled her into a corkscrew. The missiles cam streaking past, corkscrewing with the Star as they tried to keep up and shooting under the belly as he killed thrust. The maneuver had one of the two fighters lining up in Lia's scope as he straightened out, letting her turn it into another flaming ball plummeting from the sky. His wingman peeled off, obviously losing interest in this battle.

"Good job, Lia. Good eye." They just had about a dozen klicks to go. He already had the radar IFF showing friendly skies ahead. He was about ready to breath a little easier. Keying up the comm, he spoke. "This is your Captain speaking. We're looking at clear skies for the remainder of your flight. Please limit your movements around the cabin to critical needs only. We will begin climbing up to break atmo i-...." Threat warnings popped up for a missile lock, but the radar showed nothing. "Gorram!" The threat identifier was screaming with several locks and he pulled back as the comm link died. He'd seen the contrails of the first incoming missile. Apparently there were still some Republic soldiers running around with handheld launchers. Those concussion missile launchers were now pointed at them...and firing.

He kicked the ship up on its side, managing to slip between two missiles. The next two, however, blasted against the shields, taking them down with the overload. He let a hand fly over the controls, trying to reroute power from non-essentials to get them up...give them some protection as the Star weaved back and forth, nose pulling up as he tried to climb away from the threat. He'd just managed to pull shields up to a quarter when the next missile slammed into their aft, the blast blowing the shields outright and peppering the port side engine. Red warning lights flashed across the console as black smoke began to curl out from the Mandalorian ship.

He pushed it down into a dive to try and get them away with a sudden direction change. Out of the three remaining missiles that were coming toward them...two slipped by, arcing about to try and reacquire but lacking the propellant to finish the maneuver. The third, however, managed to hit the back of the engines, blasting the ailing port engine all to nothing and damaging the starboard side as well.

Daryn tried to eek power from the engines, but the left side was down and the right was starting to shut down due to the damage. Directional thrusters were still responding, but he didn't have enough power from them to stop their descent. It was fortunate enough that he could level them out. Always fun to see your death coming. He keyed the comm again. "Everyone, strap yourselves down. Emergency landing procedures are in effect." Killing the comms again, he looked to Lia. "Lock yourself in. This...isn't going to be pretty, doll."

He pulled back on the yoke, aiming the belly of the Star towards the ground that they were rapidly angling their way to. He killed the impact alarm that was echoing through the cockpit, watching the counter instead as the altitude plummeted. Seven hundred meters up, he transferred all power to the repulsors on the belly, hoping beyond hope that they didn't have Corellian odds right now. They strained, trying to fight against the inertia of the ship and push away from the rapidly approaching landscape. Inertial dampeners wouldn't be able to handle the strain and everyone would feel the hand of god grinding them down into their seats. The repulsors kicked up a wicked sound, like strangled electricity as they began to overload. The repulsor field collapsed down between the earth and the Star, slowing them down sharply before the repulsors blew completely and the Star dropped down.

The overload from the repulsors pushed through the electrical systems, killing them too. The entire ship began to tilt on its side. The controls weren't responsive and the Star plowed into the ground, front left edge hitting first and then kicking up as the ship furrowed along, bleeding off the remaining force and grinding to a halt. The impact snapped the retraints on Daryn's chair, sending him into the console and then the ground, senseless.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Lined up or not it still wasn’t ‘simple’…these bits of osik moved on their own. It didn’t matter much, however, she’d spent way too long on the Star under Rish doing the same thing…more or less. What? It wasn’t as if they’d been beloved by everyone, they had still been mercs. Lucky she’d already had herself buckled in with his maneuvers…made things that much easier as she kept one eye on readouts of the weapons lock and the other on the actual target through the port. Just a little more, little more…and…

The sudden ping followed by warning alerts went off signaling a missile. She was rather more…evocative…than Daryn, albeit in mando’a. She gasped slightly as the Star suddenly fell like a rock. Luckily she acted more on instinct than anything else…it allowed her hand to dart out and release some of the counter measures. The missiles streaked by above them, locked on the new target and allowing them some…very temporary…relief.

“Gorrammit, Lia, really wish we could have fit everyone onto Ante Up. Your boys did a bang up job on the Star, but she still doesn’t have the maneuverability. Girl’s got a big arse! She can’t keep up with my tango and our dance card is looking to fill up quick.”

That was the wrong thing to say…she bit back.

An’ you think the Ante could fit all of us and Ark? Or even fit Ark at all? If you ain’t noticed flyboy, only three of my team got back alive, an’ he was one of ‘em! There’s a reason we brought him along, an’ not just fer looks!

She growled at the incoming fighters, her helmet’s vocabulator giving the sound an even more menacing tone…or lack thereof. She was way ahead of him as she brought the lower cannon around on their new enemies. Without line of sight it was, surprisingly, more difficult for her. The system had the fighters swooping in and out of her target center and she couldn’t wait to get them pumped full of holes. Finally the cannon range alert pinged up at her and as the fighter swept through her target again she simply reacted.

He went down in a blaze of fire and brimstone.

Straight down ta hell I hope…

She growled to herself as she focused on the others scrambling to get out of the Star’s weapon range. The two wove in an out of her sights and there was an intense silence from the mando’ika as she fought to bring one of the two down. They crossed through the target and she barely missed hitting the slower of the two, making that one sweep away and out of her sights for a while. It didn’t matter honestly, as Daryn pushed them into a corkscrew that had the new missiles shooting under them. Her eyes were glued to that target, however, and with a twitch of muscle that second fighter got caught in the wing and went spiraling downward uncontrolled, the pilot ejecting. It took all her will not to try and shoot at him too.

She had bigger problems.

His praise simply earned a growl as she turned back to the forward cannon and kept half an eye on the ground and the rest of her vision on the skies. She saw them before he did…the small cluster of ground forces and their transport hidden among the shadow and crystals of Shogun…with their missile launcher.

Gorram bloody…

She’d started firing even as the warnings blared again and Daryn quit acting cocky. The crystals around them shattered from the guns and she brought up the Stars own missile launchers. They wanted to play rough? Fine…she’d play rough. With another angry snarl at the missiles they slipped between and those who’d launched them, she fixed hers on the armed transport. The Star had big teeth too…they were about to learn that the hard way. At least what these people were firing at them only had the initial lock and didn’t home in after it…it didn’t seem…she hoped. The Star’s lock system flashed up at her and one of the missiles swooped down toward the transport with the tug of her left hand’s fingers. Her right was busy trying to strengthen the shields…too late. The next two fired at them slammed against the forward shields. A glowing explosion below them showed her missile hitting it’s target, but illuminated the half dozen ground troops and three other hand held launchers. Green eyes widened only a moment before she bristled angrily. Another missile was launched back, taking out the last place she remembered one of their hand helds, but people moved a hell of a lot faster and erratically. Either way more than a few of their people would be seriously injured, blinded, or generally damaged by the blast…especially if they didn’t move fast enough.

The back of the Star bucked with another blast and she cursed…loudly. The shields were blown and engines were the next targets. She’d been about to get up and see what she could do for her ailing baby down in the engine rooms when the next missile hit and took out the full port engine and most of the starboard. The damaged engine was shutting down…there wasn’t enough power where there should be…fine...do this the dangerous way. She always liked living dangerously. Shutting down the power to the engines, launchers and cannons she rerouted it as best she could through the electrical fires to the thrusters. Right about now, every little bit helped.

"Everyone, strap yourselves down. Emergency landing procedures are in effect."

That was an understatement…more like “frelling hell if we don’t do something fast we’re all gonna be accordions” procedures were in effect…but no need to frighten the masses, right? He looked at her through those green eyes of his and she was glad for the helmet once more. She just couldn’t meet his gaze. All she could think was how much of an idiot she was, getting him involved in this…letting him get himself involved in this…in anything she did.

“Lock yourself in. This…isn’t going to be pretty, doll.”

It wasn’t ever pretty, Dar.

Despite the digitized nature of her voice through the helm, it was obvious that she had a lot on her mind…likely more than just their impending crash landing. She reclipped her harness and watched the readouts like a hawk on the power as it fluctuated and she attempted to keep the thrusters at top power. One by one the systems were flickering and failing from the overloads and fires. Between gravity and the ground rushing up at them, her heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to pump over time or just stop all together. Gritting her teeth she kept herself cool and eyed the power to the repulsors once more. They weren’t gonna hold for much longer. He wouldn’t see it, but vibrant green eyes flickered over to him for a moment. If anyone made it out of this, she hoped to Manda it would be him.

The dieing ship gave a final shudder as the repulsors gave a sudden burst of energy and blew altogether. The consol before them flickered and died out, the electrical fried completely, meaning the controls were down and they didn’t have a chance in hell to actually try to keep them straight. As if on cue the Star began tilting to the heaviest side and she hoped Ark had enough sense to try and level the ship out with his weight. One hand instinctually launched out to hold herself back from the consol, the other reaching to the side to keep Daryn in place.

”Rule number one about piloting a crash: Keep the necessary systems operational for as long as possible. Shut everything down you don’t need: weapons, grav. field if you know everyone’s strapped up, engines if they’re non-operational, lights…anything you don’t need…and shunt it to the necessaries to keep you alive.

Rule number two: Protect your crew. Keep them notified and make sure you get them to hook in if you’re going down.

Rule number three: Protect your second as best you can. Harnesses snap, you don’t want their blood on your hands and you don’t wanna die either, so watch their six for them…especially if they’re piloting.”

The blue twi’lek looked over at her as they sat behind the controls of the Star, his eyes kind but serious, the beads strung along the leather wraps around his lekku glinting in the light from the consol. The young teen sat quietly for a moment, gazing at the panel of ship system controls through blazing green eyes as she absorbed the information and filed it away before nodding slightly and looking back to her mentor.

Right…but what if I'm not fast enough? What if somethin’ happens an’ I panic or make the wrong decisions, Rish?

He gave a small chuckle and turned the pilot seat to look at her fully.

“The fall’s gonna make it difficult to think and breathe, you’re mind is going to want to panic…you can’t let it. Focus on your breathing, keep it going…you have to force it to no matter what. Gravity’s gonna put a lot of pressure on your body and it won’t feel pleasant, could even be dangerous to you if you panic and let your body react on that fear. You have to push past that and act on your calmer instincts and the rules I just told you. Your crew is more important than you are, Lia, don’t you ever forget that. If it’s a choice between them or you, you make sure it’s you…in a hard landing like a crash you have to make sure you keep alive long enough to do what needs doing so they can stay alive. You understand what I'm sayin’ to you tracyn’ika?”

The little auburn turned to face him as well, green eyes taking in every detail of his face as he spoke. Those eyes narrowed slightly as she mulled over his words and etched them into her mind. She nodded again slightly.

I…think so. No matter what I have ta keep calm enough to get the ship down an’ keep the crew safe. If that means I have ta go inta the engine room while we’re droppin’ or stay at the controls while they’re on fire ta do so, I do it. If I panic things will only be worse and make me react irrationally or get me injured or killed when I could’ve avoided it, so I have to force myself to be calm no matter what.

She looked at him evenly, hoping she’d not misinterpreted his words. To her relief he smiled and nodded, dropping a heavy hand on her shoulder before patting it a few times.

“You’ll do okay, kiddo…you’ll do okay.”

They’d done all they could: she’d shut down all the systems she could to rout the power to the repulsors and keep them operating full for as long as possible, they’d warned the others and could only hope they’d gotten strapped down in time, she was doing the only thing she had left to do…try her best to protect him and herself. The impact jolted them both forward and she felt her elbow buckle but her strength and her harness held. It was considerably more difficult to keep her other arm up where it should have been, however. His restraints snapped and slapped against the armor covering her arm and she fought to keep him from ramming full on into the controls. It didn’t work completely, but it was better than it could have been. The jittering and grinding of the Star along the ground had him falling out of the seat and she cursed again as her gloved hand closed on air instead of on Daryn.

Those clips were undone in less than a moment as she turned the co-pilot’s seat and dropped down beside him. Carefully moving him from his side onto his back, she eyed the blood coming from the cut along his hairline. It didn’t look deep but head wounds bled pretty badly. There was minimal risk in moving him from what had happened, but she didn’t want to take chances either.

Daryn! Dar! Come on flyboy. Frellin’…

She pat his face once as she spoke to see if it would rouse him, but she didn’t have time for that. She’d managed to take out some of their ground forces, but no doubt they’d be after the downed ship in no time.

Right, up you get then.

The lights in the Star were all out, down with the power, with a tap to her gauntlet, the night vision on her helmet flared to life in an eerie green. Grabbing his right hand with hers, she pulled him over onto his side again and shouldered under him as best she could, pulling him up and over her left shoulder before turning and looping her right arm beneath one of his thighs, she hoisted him up over her shoulders and pushed herself upward with a grunt. The man may not have looked like he weighed much, but dead weight he was heavy as hell to her. Coming to the dark corridor, she turned and carefully moved through it, ducking below wiring and over the various items that had come lose in the galley and shifted into the corridor. Making her way through said galley, she moved down the side corridor to the small infirmary.

Oi, anyone in here?

...More like anyone alive, in here. All she could see was the body of Solus'ad which had been hastily strapped to the table he lay on. Huffing a sigh, she headed to where the majority of them would be.

[Mara]

(((Since it seems the posting order is forgotten...
I'm gonna go ahead and post...
Sorry for how it sucks; I was writing off and on for about an hour or more. )))



Without nothing left for her to do, Ambria found herself in the medbay, sitting against a wall near where the body of Mandalore lay. She didn't know where the others were, just assumed they were in the common area. Alpha team and what was left of Bravo. Her green eyes stared up at the bulkheads, trying to make sense of everything now that her hands were no longer busy tending wounds.

In the narrow hallway her legs were braced across the way, keeping her steady through the barrage that the ship was taking from enemy fire. They had opened the way for the Mandalorian wave, but the Republic wasn't given up as easily as they had hoped. She barely felt the jostling her body was taking, so lost in her thoughts she was. Earlier she had strapped in Solus'ad's body on the bed in the 'bay, hoping to keep him as undisturbed as possible. To keep him from further damage and indignation. Now she sat, still, unmoving, only her mind running in overdrive. Nothing cohesive, just images. Images of past battles, of tending the injured, the dead. Images of her family, her husband, her fellow soldiers.

A particular quick and hard maneuver from their pilot almost sent Ambria flying down the corridor, but she grabbed onto the bottom of the medbay bed, which was welded into the wall and was immobile. She thought briefly about going back forward to join the others and properly strap down, but decided against it. Despite his straps, if they took much hammering like this, she didn't know if their fallen leader would stay where he was. No, Ambria had to stay with her charge, no matter if he was no longer breathing or not. She hadn't heard any cries of pain yet, and as long as no else else got further injured, she would stay right where she was. It was the least she could do for her Mandalore.

She relaxed as she heard through the comm that they were coming out of the worst of the firefight soon. And then tensed up again when the pilot failed to finish his message. With a brief prayer in Mand'oa and a glance at Solus'ad, Ambria grabbed onto the nearest piece of steel and wrapped her leg and arms around it. What she was doing was probably stupid and foolhardy, but Ambria didn't care. She knew was she was doing. A Mando through and through, there wasn't anything else that made sense to her. No one would miss her if she was gone; millions would miss their leader if he was.

Ambria squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out everything around her except for her new personal duty to keep the body of Mandalore safe. Her heart jumped in her throat as the ship took a sharp dive. She hoped it was just for evading and not a sign they were crashing. They had just left that party and to return again... especially depleted of number would be... The dark-skinned woman tossed it from her mind, focusing on not ending up splattered against a bulkhead.

A curse split from her lips as the comm activated again, bringing real her fears. So they were going to crash. Ambria held on tight and stood up slowly, yanking on the end of the straps holding Solus'ad in place to make sure they were holding. This was not how the mission was supposed to go, but then again, when did a mission ever go smoothly? She thought of the mission on Coruscant and of previous missions before joining the spec. ops. No, nothing ever went as plan. But she would do her best to make sure that Solus'ad got out of it still in one piece. And then tend to the others after they came to ground. Anchoring her prosthetic leg against a wall, she leaned over the bed in the medbay, and waited.


***


She startled awake with severe pain in her head, nearly blacking out when she tried to sit up. Ambria tried the move again, this time more slowly and managed to stay conscious. Ever the medic, she quickly took inventory of her body, first going to her head. Her glove came back dry, so at least it was only a bump on the head. The rest of her body seemed okay, just bruised because she was still in her armor, so then she carefully stood up and took stock of her surroundings.

Seeing that the body of Solus'ad hadn't moved hardly at all during the crash, Ambria breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had done that. Now she could focus on other things, her mind going to what happened before she most obviously got knocked down and was gifted with a nice egg on her head. The crash... yes. The Star was coming in for an emergency landing, and she had braced herself for it. A smile played over her lips; that hadn't quite worked out as planned.

Her helmet--the reason for her headache--she didn't know where that was. She had taken it off upon arrival to work on her injured fellows. Part of the set of armor her father had given her, and one of the few possessions she still had of her home planet, she had to find it. Ambria knew she should find the others and check them over medically, but there was no knowing how quickly any Republic soldiers might come to the site, nor when help might arrive. The ship wasn't all that big; the bright amber helmet would be easy to find against all the gray of the inside of the Star.

Ambria had started out of the medbay to see if the rest had fared as well as her through the crash landing when a voice caught her ears. Italia's. She stopped and looked behind her. The other woman came into view carrying a man over her shoulder. Quickly she deduced it was the pilot, for she didn't recognize him. And clearly he was unconscious. All thoughts of looking for her helmet disappeared for the moment, and her Mandalorian loyalty and military training kicked in. All informality gone. "Bring him back over here. I'll tend to him. The others... " Ambria stopped then, knowing she wouldn't have to tell Italia to check on the rest of their team. She was sure she would bring any more injured back to her.