Frontier
Emergency code zero —
This is a distress call from Doctor Edith Harrow — — Imperial research facility Frontier — — Sarafur, Kuna's Tail system.
Requesting support from any Imperial forces in — Moddell sector.
Repeat. R—questing immeadiate sup-p-ort from any Imperial forces — — — Moddell sector.
Be advised — — — ion — — — communic — damaged.
Latest readings — — — anomalous — — —
Unable to establish contact — — — — since field team — — — — smugglers? — — — — — hope.
Bette shouted at the Hellfire nuggets, getting them running toward their fighters, and gave a wave toward the other side of the hangar where the rest of Shadow Squadron was performing last minute checks. Weird distress call from Sarafur; Shadows were to escort the drop shuttles in while Hellfire scrambled and hung around the ISD Interminable in case of... anything.
She climbed up into her TIE Defender and checked the seals on her jumpsuit. They'd be reverting to realspace in a few minutes, and then it would be a rush of fighters pouring out of the ISD while their betters did their best to investigate what was going on.
Last edited by Bette Davis; Mar 30th, 2012 at 10:41:57 PM.
yo ho yo ho a pilot's life for me
Investigation a distress call sounded like punishment. Shadow Squadron was usually called upon for things that were more, to quote some of the other pilots; Hardcore. This sounded like easy work. Something that more local, more psychologically balanced forces could deal with. But they were in the area. So that meant they were stuck with whatever was happening on Sarafur. Probably just tripped and bent the communication dish. Zachariah was never one to question orders, and he was not about to begin either.
Being one of the more, if not the most, responsible member of the mental ward of wings they called Shadow Squadron meant that Zach was the one scuttling around the hangar inspecting the TIE's for any exterior issues and making sure the other Shadows were wearing they're flight suits correctly and are sober. Anyone who had made it to a TIE was checked upon to make sure they had not fallen asleep.
Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Bette Davis on the other side in the opposite side of the Hangar, where her and her Hellfire Squadron where prepping also. He gave a weak wave and smiled. He missed Bette. While he believed her to be a crazy sociopath like the rest of the Shadows, she was at least a big enough animal to keep the others in check. Zach tried, but they just threw stuff at him until he went away.
Turning back, He pulled on his own flight suit, checking it for the fourth time to make sure everything was in place. Satisfied, he made his way to his own TIE Defender, which had once had his flight call sign, "Jackal", stenciled on it but was hard to read under the numerous insults that his flightmates had scribbled on the hull of the ship. He could only scrape Dumbass and Queer off there so many times before he just gave up. One day he would get the respect of the Shadows, but who knew when that would be. It was not worth crying over, so instead he just climbed up into the cockpit and settled into the flight chair. A quick strap in and he was ready to go.
Zachariah "Jackal" Jak'el. Shadow Nine.
Dark eyes were cast to her TIE, running over every inch of its exterior in her usual pre-flight check. Though rushed, given the nature of the distress call, it was still thorough. She paused before climbing into the cockpit, fingers smoothing out her fitted flightsuit absently.
Kerr looked around the hanger at the other squadrons that were scrambling into their ships and wondered silently if this was going to involve anything more than simple escort duty. Even if it didn't, an order was an order, and meant to be obeyed, not questioned.
She caught sight of Jackal and offered a smile by way of greeting. He bore the brunt of the crap the Shadows slung, which wasn't entirely fair to her estimation. By all accounts a fine pilot who deserved his spot, Jackal should have been one of the ones doing the slinging. Kerr had no idea how to help that didn't involve leaping into the middle of the firestorm. Which, she mused, I think I'll do anyway.
Ahh well...none of that mattered right now. What did matter was getting her ass into her ship before she was tagged for being late. Clambering into the cockpit, she settled down and tugged on the straps to ensure a snug fit. Fingers smoothed back her hair and pulled her helmet on, before her fingers ghosted over her controls. She was ready...she just need the order to go.
It had been days. Days of radio silence. The static crackle on the facilities comm channels echoed the lash of the sand storm against its windows and walls. The wind lifted another sheet into the air and hurled it against Frontier, startling Edith Harrow out of her drowsing half-sleep. Instinctual panic made her grab at the edge of her desk, the gesture sending a caff cup clattering to the floor, its contents splattering across polished metal.
Edith's bleary eyes didn't pay it a second glance. There was something far more important playing across the monitor in front of her. The grainy imagery displayed a feed of Frontier's living quarters and store room. She tracked unfamiliar figures moving between the two rooms, blaster rifles and pistols sweeping across the empty bunks, flash lights probing the extent of the facility's equipment.
There were people here. People who had heard her distress signal. With their help, perhaps she could re-establish contact with the field team and salvage the Frontier project.
One of the people turned and, whether knowingly or otherwise, looking directly up into the lens of a security camera with cold, black eyes.
Aliens.
Nikto.
Nikto with weapons.
It lifted the barrel of its rifle and seconds later, the video feed died. Edith recoiled against her chair as if the bolt had passed through the screen and punched into her chest. A strangled gasp and she fumbled again at the computer terminals keypad.
Emergency code zero —
"So, what does Frontier research?"
"Who cares?" retorted Bette as her ship cleared the ISD. "Watch your vectors, Shadow Four. Our job is to make sure the shuttles reach the surface intact. And then that everyone gets off that rock in one piece."
She fell into a standard escort formation, and studied her sensor readouts. Something was definitely going on on the surface of Sarafur. A giant sandstorm. It was wreaking havoc with the sensor packages. "Watch yourselves, Shadows. Sand in the joints is a bad idea, even for Defenders."
The planet loomed closer and closer.
"Copy that Shadow Three." Zach replied, using one hand to guide his ship safely out of the hangar and out alongside the transport vessels. He caught a glimpse of Hellfire deploying out the other side of the hangar as they took up circling formations around the Interminable. The run of the mill TIE Fighters they piloted seemed so stone age compared to the engineering miracle he was flying. With those flying deathtraps they were likely to accidentally kill themselves before the Shadows made it back.
As they approached the surface of Sarafur Zach was starting to worry. The TIE Defenders had no particle shields and they were flying straight into a sandstorm that could be kicking up all kinds of debris. The hulls of the Defender were strong. Very strong, but that hardly mattered if the sandstorm managed to pick up a boulder and hurl it at you. Even if it failed to annihilate you, a cracked "eye" would ruin your chances of returning to space.
Zach's Defender was outfitted with a tractor beam. He enjoyed the utility it brought to him and the squadron. In this situation he decided to warm it up and have it ready just in case he needed to pull any teammates out of the way of any flying debris from the sandstorm.
Still feeling like glorified bodyguards, Zach really doubted that they were needed. With a sandstorm on the surface most people would be sensible enough to not fly around and start dogfights, and strafe runs on ground targets would be difficult with the lower visibility. If anything did go down, Zach was worried about just how well they would be able to react in these conditions.
Zach avoided joining into the chitchat going between the Shadows, because he was usually made fun of no matter how valid his statements were. Even in the heat of combat they found time and energy to patronize him. So instead he just stuck to his position in the escort and kept his eyes peeled for anything.
Kerryna frowned after echoing 'copy that' to Bette's comment, eying the surface of Sarafur with evident distaste. Unless sand was on a beach, she was of a mind that it simply shouldn't exist.
But there they were with the surface closing in, aiming for the smallest of the three spaceports that were dotted along Sarafur's equatorial band. It was the closest to Frontier's actual location, and would hopefully afford the shuttles and the Shadows a sheltered place to land. This sand would wreak havoc on them and their craft if they had to spend much time out in the storm itself.
It is what it is, she mused, settling in behind and slightly above her appointed charge. The shuttles lumbered along and soon broke through Sarafur's upper atmosphere. Kerr nudged her TIE back into its proper position as they began their approach to the spaceport.
"Get your shit stored, Trooper! This ain't no lollipop run. We have an Imperial facility. AN IMPERIAL FACILITY, that is under duress and has requested aid! If you cannot handle that I will personally push you out the door at twenty thousand feet myself! If that is not enough incentive for you to get your shit together soldier than you do not belong in this unit!"
The besieged trooper could only look up in horror as the Sergeant Major screamed in his face. The rest of the Lambda was watching silently, but their eyes said more than enough. The furious glares and dismissive sighs were enough to turn the trooper in question's face red with embarrassment. Sergeant Major Jarvan Trask kept his nose inches from the man's face, mean mugging him in the eye while the trooper did his best to get his weapon under control after dropping it when the transport hit some air turbulence. Sergeant Major Trask turned to face the rest of the Lambda.
"Alright. Now that Jenkins has made the life choice to hold on to his goddamn weapon, and since I have all of your attention, let me continue our briefing. The Imperial science facility Frontier has been compromised. We have no idea what the situation is. Hell, they could have just dropped a dish and can't find the goddamn broom, but we are going in anyways because the people upstairs with the big clubs said so. We cannot land directly at the facility because of a sandstorm so we are landing at the nearest spaceport. The locals have been ordered to give us vehicles to get us to the facility and we will get overwatch from Shadow Squadron. However, due to the sandstorm conditions none of you are allowed to count on Shadow for any kind of cover. We'll be lucky if they do not fire upon us on accident. You are Cerberus and Longsword. I expect nothing but the best out of you. Helmets on nancy boys."
Everyone saluted and Trask returned to his own seat in the troop bay, strapping himself in for the rest of the flight to the surface. His own helmet was pulled from the overhead compartment and pulled over his shaved head. The world went dark for a moment and then became a landscape of Heads Up Displays all feeding him more information that was possible to digest. He could see better in the dark bay now, to each of the other troopers strapped into the walls. Each wore the faceless white Stormtrooper armor, but with full gear loadouts instead of just blasters. They were not just Stormtroopers. They are Imperial Navy Commandos. The Best of the Worst. And damn proud of it.
:ETA THIRTY SECONDS:
The letters scrolled across the bottom of his visor and each other trooper nodding his head in acknowledgement. Even Jenkins managed to pay attention for two goddamn seconds. There was the whoosh and bang as the ship set down, and before the hatch could even start to open every member of Cerberus and Longsword were on their feet and pulling weapons free from racks and clips. When the door finally hit the ground the storm of boots was deafening as they marched out. The second Lambda had set down a dozen meters away with squads Berzerker and Rancor also running down the gangplank. A whole Storntrooper platoon might be overkill, but Trask was not about to let anything go to chance. If he was going to do a job then he was going to goddamn do it.
"Cerberus, Longsword, and Berzerker. Get loaded up in the vehicles and let's head to the Frontier facility. Rancor, you stay behind with the civies and come in behind us. Keep your distance and eyes open. Go!" Trask ordered, his voice passing through the comm system installed in each helmet so that everyone in the platoon got the message. The spaceport had provided several off-road vehicles. They were more civilian than he would have liked but it would get them through the sandstorm and to the facility. Each squad of eight troopers and a sergeant, the latter distinguished by the single gold shoulder pad, loaded into a vehicle and they set off. The modest transports groaned under the weight of the troopers, armor, and weapons.
They had little heavy weaponry, choosing mobility over firepower. Each Navy Commando was much better equipped than your usual stormtrooper with the options of a SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster sidearm as well as primary weapon options that included the usual E-11 garbage blaster and the DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle, DLT-20A Blaster Sniper Rifle, and each squad had one T-21 Light Repeating Blaster. Most of the soldiers carried the E-11, with many modified to perform better than their vanilla counterpart. Trask's own armament included the repeating blaster and E-11, but his rifle was upgraded for better fire rate and the required heat dissipation.
"This is Sergeant Major Trask to Shadow Leader. We are heading toward the Frontier facility. Can we get a flyby of the facility for confirmation of hostiles? Over."
Last edited by Jarvan Trask; Apr 6th, 2012 at 11:08:20 AM.
One by one, Edith watched the vid-feeds go dark. Of the twenty cameras that monitored Frontier, only two remained active. Of those two, one covered the inside of the main security office where Doctor Harrow herself sat. The other was on the exterior of the facility and displayed only intermittent glimpses of the approach to Frontier's main entrance.
Edith did not need to see the Nikto to know that they were still in the facility, however. She could hear them through the walls, discussing how they were going to get into the security office and what they would do to whoever they found inside. Even if they had not come prepared to overcome several levels of security, the labs contained equipment that was designed for excavation: plasma cutters, hydraulic spreader-cutters and even some securely-stored explosives. Primitive though the Nikto surely were, they could not fail to see how the research teams tools could be turned against them.
This and many other scenarios running through her mind, Doctor Harrow got to her feet and cast her eyes about the security office. She couldn't sit and wait any longer. She needed to do something. Anything.
"Shooter, take Jackal and Bombshell and get eyes on Frontier. We need to know what the troops are driving into."
"Copy that, Professor." Bette split off from her wing group, forming up with the other two. "Got that Eight and Nine?" They confirmed, and the trio left the relative safety of the spaceport, leaving the rest of the Shadows flying formations over the disembarking troops.
"We're headed straight into the storm, so keep an eye on your instruments." The three Defenders soared over the back edge of the sandstorm, staying well above it until Bette's computer indicated they were near the station.
"Going in," she said, dipping her fighter down into the whirling sand. The winds buffetted the ship - totally different from the vacuum of space. The lack of particle shields was a problem, but as long as they limited their exposure and nothing big hit them, they'd be fine.
"Confirmed"
Pulling back on the control stick, Zach manueved his ship up and around in the direction of the Frontier facility. He had enjoyed watching the soldiers scurry out of the landing craft like ants defending a nest. No time to watch now. Rather, they were flying into the eye of the storm. It was okay at first. A little sand got stuck in the crossbars that reinforced his viewport but otherwise the Defender was handling fine.
The closer they got to the facility the harder the flight became. Now his Defender felt like it was bounding around as the sandstorm buffeted it all around. Visibility went from poor to shit; forcing him to rely on his sensors almost exclusively to fly. Being mindful of where his wingmates were, the triad of fighters flew closer to the facility.
A warning light flashed on his control panel. Bunching his system check button he did a full scan of his fighter. "I'm getting some engine overheat from the sand. Not damaging levels yet, but it could get worse." Sand was tricky business. It can accumulate in the thrust array, where it is melted down into a molten state from which any cooling can cause it to glass, blocking up array and even breaking off and falling inside to cause system failure. While in flight they were okay. The damage was when they stopped.
If things were not bad enough his ship was experiencing even more turbulence as the storm got worse. Zach was already regretting taking the ships into the sand. It was bad enough that they were going to have to clean out every nook and cranny when they got back to the ISD or risk complications further down the road. It could put the Defenders out of commission for days while every chance sand pocket was located and cleaned out.
"Frontier should be coming into view... now."
"Copy that, Three." Kerr tilted her head as she said it, casting a glance at her diagnostics before peeling away from the spaceport with Shooter and Jackal.
Sand and wind buffeted her TIE from seemingly every angle, scouring the outside of the ship. The paint and sealant coats would likely have to be replaced after this excursion - but if that was the worst thing that happened, she'd count herself lucky.
The possibilities of damage from the turbulent winds, sand possibly melting, and the salt inherent in the sand itself...it didn't bear thinking about right at that moment. They had work to do.
Ker narrowed her eyes and held tightly to the steering yoke as the winds threatened to send her wildly off-course. Something caught her gaze through the whirling sand, up against one of the side entrances of the research station.
"Shooter, Jackal - I'm seeing a pile of speeders down by the side entrance, at least 8, but no sign of hostiles. Can someone confirm?"
"Copy that Bombshell," said Bette, sensors pinging wildly in the storm. She slammed her hand down on a flashing button, silencing a warning alarm. "Detecting no damage to station itself." She commanded the ship's droid brain to send their findings back to the landing party. "Transmitting information back to -"
Her eyes widened and she juked her ship hard starboard, something that looked like a small shed flying by as her proximity alerts all lit up red. "Frack, who's idea was this. Pull up and out of this muck immediately, Shadows."
"Negative Shadow Three, ground command wants the Frontier marked with a beacon. The storm is not going to clear the area for hours, they need something to head toward if navigation gets scrambled." The calm voice of Tannis V'larr cut through her blaring alarms, and Bette toggled her comm off for a moment so she could swear.
She switched the comm back on. "Okay, you heard the man. I'll drop a beacon and you two wait for me above the storm. Get clear." She fought with the yoke and headed down lower. Dropping the sensor beacon was simple enough, but the wind picked it up and slammed it into the parked speeders. Oops.
Bette manipulated the controls, trying to bring her ship around and get the hell out.
Last edited by Bette Davis; Apr 8th, 2012 at 04:43:10 PM. Reason: Dropped my beacon
"Affirmative."
Pulling back on the stick, Jackal made every intention to fly straight up and out of the storm. His intentions meant nothing when the storm kicked him about as he rose. Another klaxon sounded, alerting the pilot that the engine was beginning to fail and was losing thrust. He did not have enough power to punch through the storm, at least not without getting a running start, and with no visibility he was not about to go full speed this close to the ground.
"Negative. The headwind is too strong. Engine failing. I'm setting down or falling down."
He let out a silent prayer to the gods as he let his ship descend slowly, fighting to stay in place and not plummet to either side. Frontier was close, and the ground around it was more level. He aimed for it, and eventually set his starfighter down, using the bottom edges of the side wings to prop his ship up. He waited a moment, ready to take off again if he started sliding, but the wings sank into the sand and held.
Great, now he would have to dig himself out.
"I'm on the ground, and not going anywhere. You guys should try to get free if you can. I can plant my beacon."
He was not the most excited young man on Sarafur, but he was willing to do what needed to be done. For the Empire. Checking the seals on his flight suit he prepared to exit the vehicle, a proposition he liked even less than landing this way. Opening the hatch would let sand in, which could damage the controls, and then he would have to climb across the wing strut and down the wing in order to get to the ground. TIE's were not made for getting off on the surface by yourself.
And one last thing. He pulled free the emergency blaster pistol from it's housing in a special compartment reserved just for it. He had never had to use it before, but it warmed his heart to see that his comrades had defaced even his blaster with "Asshole 9" smudged on the outside of the barrel.
Lovely.
The wind was a nightmare. Bette heard Jackal and Bombshell over the comm, both in their own private hells as the storm strengthened around them. Already near the station and struggling, Flight Commander Davis decided to use her talent toward landing her Defender in one piece rather than trying to fly out of the storm and risk tearing it to pieces. From the sound of it, Bombshell had reached a similar decision.
She flicked on her comm, hoping the signal would transmit back to V'larr. "Storm got worse, we are setting down by Frontier. Send in the grunts, we'll need the company. Bombshell, Jackal, secure your fighters as best you can and rendezvous with me in the station."
'Landing' Maneater would have been a hilarious undertaking on a bright sunny day with a light breeze. In the middle of a sandstorm it was like trying to ride a wild bantha for the required eight seconds, and then holding on for another thirty. Bette felt the ship sink into the sand and killed the engines, grabbing her blaster and checking the seals on her EV suit. She fastened her helmet into place and crawled out of the TIE, closing the ship up as fast as she could to avoid contamination.
The storm was worse once you were actually out in it. Bette staggered toward the dim outline of Frontier, thankful for her suit keeping the sand out of her orifices.
Getting to the ground involved more falling than climbing. Picking himself up from the sand, he made a vain attempt to dust himself off. In the middle of a sandstorm. Giving up, and discovering he had no broken bones, he made for the facility. Before popping the seal on his cockpit, he had made out the location of Bette's starfighter on his radar and was tempted to try and make it to it to make sure she was alright but even this farmboy knew better than to wander off in a sandstorm and hope for the best. Instead he headed for Frontier, which he could make out through the swirling sand.
The journey was rough and he fell down more than a few times as the winds buffeted at him and the sand offered nothing to push against. It was a mad, stumbling affair all the way until his feet finally hit durocrete. The mobile beacon he brought with him was normally used for search and rescue to locate downed fighter pilots. Standard TIE's did not even come equipped with such a thing because there was no life expectancy for those guys. A TIE/D pilot was valuable, as was his craft, and worth finding. The beacon was short ranged but should suffice for the troops heading this way. Zach found a nice, safe spot on the side of the Frontier Facility, away from sight, and set the beacon down in a nook so that it would not blow away.
Kneeling down, he took a break from the exhausting trek, turning his head side to side looking for Shooter or Bombshell, or anything threatening. The TIE flight suit was not exactly made for observation so it was a chore to keep all his angles covered.
"Alright boys. Listen up. We have confirmed that Shadow Squadron has three downed pilots. Any other day I would say screw those throttle monkeys but they went down providing intel at our command so you all better damn well keep your eyes open for them. Rescuing the Shadows is a secondary objective. Our mission is to secure the Frontier facility, remove any threats, and get the communications back on. We have mechanics coming down from the ISD to clear up the facility comms and to get the Shadows back in the air.... We have confirmed beacons. Nav marker placed."
On his own heads up display Jarvan could see the little transparent triangle icon indicating where the beacon location was. The convoy of vehicles adjusted to match the new location, deviating only slightly from the direction they were already going in. Ahead the eye of the storm loomed. Every window and door was battered down and made ready as they plowed straight into the whirling maelstrom.
It would not take them too long to get there. If none of the transports got blown over they would make it just fine. The sandstorm could scream and holler all it wanted, but they would hold. Weapons were made ready. Ammunition energy cells slapped into place and safeties disabled. Command sent the individual charge codes for the thermal detonators each trooper carried.
There was nothing more to say. Each member of Cerberus, Longsword, and Berzerker was armed and ready. He had no more commands to give, no more bellowing and screaming. Everyone doubted there was a real threat inside the facility, but if there was it was about to get blasted into oblivion.
"Goddamn."
Last edited by Jarvan Trask; Apr 18th, 2012 at 06:50:02 AM.
Something was off.
A frown marred her features as she fought her ship's desire to do what the raging sandstorm was telling it to do. It bucked and whirled like a bantha who'd injested spice and donned a tutu for an impromptu rendition of 'Lantern Bird Lake'.
Dark eyes narrowed as Kerr forced her TIE to land - though by land she mean half-sunk into the gods-forsaken sand at a decent velocity. "Huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo!" she all but shouted as she slapped her palm against the access panel beneath her seat. It took a second hit for the panel to open enough for her to remove the Deece stored inside. Extra clips were tucked into an exterior pocket of her EV suit, then her fingers secured her helmet and checked the seal.
Right.
A practiced flip of her gloved fingers saw the canopy open and her slender form slide out as it had already begun to close. While her initial maneuver was executed with some amount of grace, her landing was full of fail. Kerr landed flat on her ass in the sand and was immediately thankful for the shitty visibility. At least, she noted with pride, her Deece had been cradled securely in her arm the entire time.
A glance told her the facility was just ahead, and another back up at her TIE confirmed that her own locator beacon was active. That would give their support team a solid location along with the other beacons both Shooter and Jackal had likely activated by now. Kerryna got to her feet and forged ahead, getting to the side of the facility after what seemed like an eternity. Further along the structure, tucked into a niche, was Jackal, whom she headed straight for. They needed to get inside, and the door she'd scoped out earlier was just ahead.
Jackal spotted her as she approached and she offered a grim smile as she crouched down beside him. "We've gotta get inside. Let's head for the door...Shooter should be on her way." Kerr said, knowing their comms would work in such close proximity.
Bette staggered into the side of the building, helmet bouncing against the outer wall. For a moment a wind gust pressed her in place as securely as though she were a bug pinned to a card, but it relented enough to allow her to creep along the perimeter. An alcove presented itself, and when she ducked into it she found herself at the front doors to the station.
She pressed the control pad on the outside, trying to use the intercom or open the door, the wind blowing sand relentlessly against her.
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