Log:Black Squadron: Back to the Front Lines

Black Squad helps a Rookie Platoon

OOC Date: December 1, 2020
Location: Carida
Participants: Black Squadron, Rey, Ben Solo, Bors Thul, Jessika Pava, Poe Dameron

The Outpost is a secret installation built into the forests of Carida. Mountains outline the area of operations on every side, and cold air chills the forest, blanketing the forest's bed with dead leaves and upright skeletons of massive trees. This forest has been nicknamed for its recently violent reputation as a haven of automated defenses.

If its nick name 'Red Dead Forest' wasn't enough to make the land ominous, the fog was. White fog blanketed the area, perpetually, arming this installation with the ideal defenses needed to bleed any army hoping to conquer this stretch. So instead of nuking the spot from orbit, or dropping EMPs, Republic command sends in its Black Squad unit to pathfind, and help locate the installation.

Everyone is assembled, and a platoon of Republic troopers are preparing themselves nearby, and a fresh officer is being briefed by a young Sergeant. "No sir, we have to wait for Black Squad. It's not a good idea to move ahead. We have a platoon of rookie soldiers. Best we follow people who know what's going on."

The Lieutenant looked none too pleased with this response. Sitting around waiting did not translate to initiative.

If there's one thing Major Jessika Pava of the New Republic military has had enough of in this galaxy, it's secret installations. She dwells on this new point of annoyance as they approach another, and ruminates on the last secret installation she'd visited, where a whole lot of drek she doesn't want to remember went down. Their operational tempo hasn't slacked off since the Resistance. If anything, it's gotten more active, and for Jessika? It's all.. kind of starting to blur together. It's always some world, some desert, some forest, some looming threat, some ravenous murderer, some.. something. She's had enough of this forest, that's for sure. The mire of fog hanging thick around everything makes her nervous. Maybe nervous isn't the right word. Perturbed? Some vague sense of perturbation feels like a better fit. Garbed in armor with no distinguishing marks and toting a blaster carbine, Jessika double checks the coordinates for the meet, and once they're a hundred meters out, she initiates the handshake that'll signal blue in the area so there's no kind of misidentification mishaps. <"Red platoon, this is Black Actual. We're a hundred meters from meeting location and inbound. Check fire.">

Silent, maybe... Possibly. He's likely humming within his helmet with the visor sealed, smiling too most likely. All of these ground operations - so much more different than his days before Black Squadron! More used to being ensconced in a fighter cockpit, he has seen so much more of the galaxy outside of one, and the New Alderaan courts.

He can't help himself,

<"To think, this was a Stormtrooper training world. Dreadfully lovely place for such a career. I should think it a delight to walk the grounds, to see how nature has reclaimed should it be that the New Republic has not... Don't you think?">

If there's one thing the galaxy will never run short on, it's SECRET INSTALLATIONS. Ben Solo, dressed in black, fits the color scheme of Black Squadron if nothing else, and follows in Jessika's wake, no doubt to the relief of the antsy lieutenant. He hangs back while the Major takes charge, content to let her lead. "You have an attachment to dead forests filled with obscuring mist?" the man remarks aside to Bors, raising one eyebrow as he walks, boots crunching in the hard, crusty cold mud, muted by the covering of leaves. "Do we know what the locals inside have against the Republic? How are they to be dealt with?"

Rey's attire is as it usually is, some form of her white robes, though she alternates various elements of it as she makes new pieces to replace others that become unserviceable after missions and the like. Today, however, she's wearing a camoflage poncho over top of her white tunics, and it's cinched around her waist by a leather utility belt not common to her normal clothing. Her satchel is slung over the poncho, and hanging at her side, and on her head is a light blast helmet, not much protection, but enough to keep her a little more safe than normal anyway.

Rey is following behind the others, holding a datareader in her hands and looking at a satellite map of the area. She hears them talking, but doesn't chime up until Ben's questions. "Kindness." She says. "We'll be kind to them." She states in a dry tone of voice, glancing up to the others to momentarily smile.

<"Black Actual, Red two; roger."> Is the cool, calm, collected Sarge's reply. The El-tee seems eager to speak on the comms but doesn't. They kick at the dirt and ground instead, standing by. "Hey troopers, get your drek ready. Black Squad's almost here!" The Sarge calls, and the troopers react by picking their weapons up and fastening helmet chinstraps. One guy is still holding a ration in his hand, stirring the water-shake and trying to down it before the other team arrives. They tip the pouch drink back and spill the pink contents down the front of their armor. "Well that's just great!" He says, defeated.

When Black Squad arrives, the troopers have their weapons. One guy is covered in a pink shake that looks like pink vomit, and he has bits of ration packs tucked 'cleverly' into their bandolier. A Sergeant and Lieutenant are nearby. "It's about time," the El-tee says.

"Bors.." Jessika doesn't bother finishing her sentence. Maybe it's the annoyance with the mission. Maybe it's just his idle musings treading on the forest of her thoughts. Whatever the case, a mission isn't a mission without Jessika taking on a tone that conveys some quiet threat as she speaks the name of one of their newest members. Not on comms. Because no names on comms. "He has an attachment to anything and everything," Jessika answers Ben's question for Bors rather than giving the man a chance to answer for himself. Rey mentions kindness. Jessika answers in something more flat and much less nice. "The locals are First Order supporters that have struck up a militia response to the world becoming Republic controlled. The New Republic is trying to negotiate, but we can't find the place because the defenses hidden in the forest keep murdering our troops. So, we find the place, and then we let everyone know where it is, so they can send some nice people down to chat. Which I guess means.. don't shoot first." The dryness in her voice indicates she's only playing the part of dumb grunt. It's almost drowned out by the sudden shout from one of the troopers about something being great. "No, please, announce where we are to the entire forest." It's more said under her breath than anything else, because she can't actually see who made the noise. When they arrive, Jessika doesn't take long to spot the guy that shouted, and even less time to figure out why. She almost laughs about it, but the butter bar with the impatient look on his face sours her mood more than it already has been. "Is our arrival inconvenient to your timetable, Lieutenant?"

But answer he does, just the same - as is his way. <"Life exists in all places, even one such as this. Ere has past shall birth future. Where there is naught but pathos and history, shall hence spring the quintessence of the future."> small smile crooking at the corner of Bors's mouth - growing with Rey's affirmation of procedure to Ben's inquiry, head turning slightly towards the Jedi to encompass them both in his gaze, for a moment,

<"Indeed the Lady has the knack of it, be it our hope that the open hand be met and not slapped away. Let the Mother's patience be the guide and the Father's will give unto us that needed to fulfill our mission and make it one of peace."> Alderaanian words if there never were any such before. It does not stop him from a casual check of the old EE-3 hanging from his shoulder though. The Mother guides, the Father protects; but it never hurts to have a full charge and spare blaster packs.

He, of course, lets Jessika handle the loud people drawing attention from every sniper in earshot. It's going to be a great day!

"Of course. Kindness. No doubt that's what these particular insurgents have been firing on the Republic troops in this sector as well." The sardonic note underlying his speech is unmistakable, and when they break into the clearing where the troopers are waiting, one of them festively decorated with nutrient shake mix, the tone seeps through his skin onto his face. Brows tighten together, lips purse, then skew. Eyes skim from the private over to the sergeant and officer, then back to Jessika. The beginning of a frown deepens, and one cheek caves in to be bit surreptitiously between his molars.

A deep breath in through the nose.

Rey looks forward to the group they've met up with, taking note of the one covered in pink, which garners a restrained expression of amusement upon that of Rey's face. She glances over toward Ben, whose reaction to it only makes her expression grow even tighter as she has to hold herself together. She chooses to look downward for a few seconds before her eyes bounce back up, this time toward Jessika's much more serious response. "Right." Rey says with a slight nod. "This situation is dire, and they're surely not going to be pleased to see any of us."

A glance and nod is paid to Bors then and there. "I would hope we could find a way to talk through any more fighting. This world has seen enough of that now, the Republic is in ownership of this territory now. These people, even if they despise our existence, need to see reason and stop their aggressions."

She falls quiet then, glancing back down toward her datareader and the map she's been observing for some time now. Carida is a fascinating terrain! At least... to Rey.

"As a mat--" The Lieutenant begins, but the Sergeant cuts him off. "/Major/, it's good to see you, ma'am." The Sarge doesn't salute, since they're in the field, but he does dip his chin respectfully in a nod. The El-tee's eyes widened a bit, and they swallowed hard against the pride of realizing that Black Squad was led by a much higher-ranked officer. "Apologies," He said, trying again. "We're ready to move out on your command, Major." The color left the Lt's face after saying this, and the Sergeant laughs. "He's new," Sarge says in a low tone to the Major before passing her slightly. "All you idiots come here, and keep it quiet. Garza, what the rekk? Get those rations out of your rekking bandolier you fat boot-rekk piece of drek."-- "Yes sergeant! I mean.." Whispers, "..yes sergeant!" The Sarge massages the bridge of his own nose trying to embody patience but only conceiving a sigh that could be felt from high orbit.

The way ahead is like the way behind them. Dead forest trees, a bed of dead leaves, ominous fog, and quiet. It was the kind of quiet that said something wasn't right here. It seemed apropos of a stretch of forest nicknamed for all the death it'd caused.

With the troops in line, and Garza dumping his rations from his bandolier to leave a pile of trash, everything seemed to be in order. All eyes on Black Squad!

They're all going to die down here. It takes Jessika thirty seconds to make this assessment regarding the platoon before her, and she doesn't regret it or question it. If anyone makes it out, it'll be the salty one with his boots strapped on right, but if she was going to bet credits on it, she'd wager his instinct to do right will overpower his instinct for survival in a bad situation, when he's got privates dying on one side and an ate up lieutenant dying on the other, and he won't make it out either. Jessika waits for some sense of being reviled by the stark coldness of this train of thought, and when she doesn't feel it, she wonders what that says about her. None of this registers on her face or in her actions. She simply waits, biding time for the Lieutenant to eat his own LPCs and for the sergeant to gather up the babies since story time is over. She lets out a quiet, long breath through her nose, and doesn't speak until everyone is gathered up and looking at the four that have arrived out of the mist like they're some saviors. The first thing she does is single out pink-on-his-armor with her eyes. "Pick your trash up. That's a dead giveaway you've been here and anyone that comes looking for us will have their job done for them by your complacency." Her gaze travels to the rest of the squad. "Ten meter spacing in a spread out diamond formation. You should be able to see the person to your twelve, nine, and three, but not the person beyond them. This fog is a hindrance to us, but my guess is they've got defenses that use thermals to see through this junk. Follow us. Keep your mouths shut. I heard you way before I ever saw you. That's begging to be shot." It's a tough stance on them, but this isn't a training exercise, and they wouldn't be out here if the stakes weren't serious. She gives them all one minute to speak up before starting to lead out. "Try to pass by trees as you move. If it goes down, get behind one."

The heap of trash on the ground is enough to make Bors feel the beginning of a headache. <"Must you?" looking to Garza with the same pained expression while looking back to the mess. He even moves forward, drawing a refuse bag from pouch on his belt, making to begin tucking the garbage away while shooting a single scathing glare towards the offender - until Jessika orders the man to take care of it himself.

Finally. Sense.

A look that if found the alchemical components of could create the mythical means to conjure lead from gold is aimed towards Jessika for her championship of nature. Dead and awaiting rebirth or not. But all said and done he unlimbers his carbine, head up and eyes moving.

Resist the urge to hum.

Resist. The urge. To hum.

It's still a new thing for him, having his face out here in the open for all the world to see it while interacting with the underlings, the minions, the... people. And Ben's face is not good at hiding what he is thinking, and usually he is thinking nothing good. This moment in these bleak woods is not different. He trudges along, following the others, looking up to the sky in a moment of existential crisis for answers. "Do you ever step back through every single decision you've ever made trying to find the exact choice you could have changed to alter everything that came after it?"

Oh, right, keep your mouths shut. Ben's closes, and purses, and twists again, not used to having anyone around on missions he'd /like/ to talk to or anyone willing to tell him he shouldn't. The mist is close and dense, and seems to deposit a thin sheen of moisture on everything within it, so a hand brushes over his clammy face.

Rey's eyes are on their army associates, as they're rather peculiar, but Jessika's ever-professional approach to these situations is an always impressive thing to behold. So Rey just looks between the others, spares a moment to adjust the light helmet on top of her head, before she looks to the litter-in-question, grimacing at it as well. "Not good, no." She says of it, morality policing the man who'd tossed it on the ground with the others. "It's just unfriendly to the native fauna really." She quietly mutters.

As they prepare though, Ben's comments are overheard, and with her eyes down on the datareader display she cannot help but comment. "I can think of a series of them you could've made that would've lead you to a variety of different outcomes that likely wouldn't have ended up with you here." She glances over at him then and offers him a grin. "You still made the right choices in the end though. Even if its hard to see right now." Her brown eyes quickly dance around the forest, then back to the man in black.

"Blame the fog!" She adds, maybe a bit more chipper than he'd care to hear right now.

Garza stoops down to pick up his trash now, feeling like they're playing boot-camp games with him. He stuffs the wrappers into his cargo pocket, making one leg poof out further than his other. When it's all up, Garza straightens and looks to Rey and smiles, up-nodding like 'what's up' but without the words. He hoists his carbine and falls in line at the wrong spot, something the Sergeant takes hold of his cuirass to force him into the right place. If that wasn't insult enough, the Sergeant utters a silent threat to Garza's life after smacking the back of the trooper's helmet.

Finally, everyone is moving the way they're supposed to. Moving into the fog only revealed more of the same. After about thirty minutes of walking, something mechanical sounds up ahead. Something is shifting into place, locking, and spooling up. When it opens fire, it is sudden, and joined by ten others. They're marked by the flashing of red lances, and trees are pelted as they begin to orient, honing in on heat signatures. The sea of trees did not help. "CONTACTS FROM THE FRONT," Yells Garza helpfully as he slings his fat-self against a dead tree and wheezes heavily. "Cover, get to cover you idiots!" The sergeant said, shoving another of the privates to a tree before baseball sliding to one of his own. "Shoot the origin points!"

It really is starting to blur together. As blaster fire lances through mist, Jessika's armor identifies all the points in an array before her where they could be coming from. Sometimes, this technology is a blessing. Sometimes, she can't stand technology. Like now, when she snaps off a shot at turret most in line with what's in front of her and watches, in stupidity, as a blue bolt pierces through the mist towards the defense in question. Taking a line out of Ektor's book, Jessika puts together some string of expletives while thrusting herself against a tree so hard it shakes her bones, forcing the wide trunk to become a much thicker point of armor for her while she pointedly takes the time to switch off of stun to kill.

Fire! And an idiot shouting! Why not? WHY? NOT? <<"Covering.">> the most often verbose Alderaanian having a momentary cessation of his oft overflowing dialogue, spoken at least today, raises his carbine to snap off a quick shot before dropping to one knee behind one of those same trees now accosted by turret fire.

<<"Actual, cover and advance?">> keeping communications to internal comms now, using his armor equipment while counting the seconds between shots. Then again. Like thunderbolts, really - at least for automated systems. No hands free, he taps one heel into the ground, keeping time. <<"Confirm, two to three second pause per four shots?">>

"Clearly," Ben replies flatly to Rey, her antithesis as much as her equal.

The walk drags on and Ben lapses into a sort of meditative silence as they trudge along, boots crunching here, squelching there, slipping on the occasional patch of wet leaves. He keeps his eyes down and focuses on the way ahead, his mop of unruly hair dampening from the outside in. Thanks, humidity.

When the turrets spool up, it hardly comes as a surprise; he felt something before the sound reached them. When the blaster bolts begin to spit out towards them, he doesn't take cover or speak; he reaches behind his hip, for that silver cylinder riding on his belt. There's a quick grind of metal on metal as he slides the weapon off its clip, and the blade ignites as his arm extends, a white core surrounded by coalescing orange and blue. He doesn't take cover, striding directly towards the turrets with the lightsaber in hand.

Rey continued to walk in the designated formation quietly reading that map and memorizing the terrain. "There's an interesting cave system not far from here. Supposedly has ruins inside of it. I'd like to check that out..." She mutters quietly. Not long after that is Garza speaking to her, who gets a smile in return, but the combat is soon to follow, the sounds of the turrets registering their arrival up ahead.

"Blasted." Rey mutters, putting the data reader back in to the satchel on her left hip. She draws her blaster out and peers out around the edge as blaster fire opens up, she glancing toward Ben when he ignites his fiery saber.

Rey ducks out again, seeing a felled tree on the ground, she gathers up the Force around it, the flow through it, sending the tree trunk toward one of the turrets and clipping it hard!

The turret fire is loud, drowning out any and everything, even the returning fire. Garza watches as a fireblade comes to life and leans around his tree to watch, color draining from his fat cheeks as the one wielding the exotic weapon charged ahead. "SARGE, DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Garza fires off a shot, showering spark from a turret when the bolt makes a connection.

When the Sarge calls back, it's over the sound of cyclic fire and the crunching of a hurled tree. "SHUT THE REKK UP, GARZA!" The Sarge opens fire, hitting another turret. The troopers with Black squad fire periodically, though one of them is pelted by fire, their cover getting chewed up as they drop their weapon and hold their head screaming. The concussion was intense from the impacts, and instinctual fear took over reason, leading them to de-evolve to that state of terror.

The El-tee charges ahead with their pistol, firing toward something but missing. "OPEN FIRE, MEN!" He yells. "JUST FOLLOW MY TRACERS!"

The Sergeant moves from cover, crawling toward the freaking out private to get them under control. "HEY!--" He yelled, but he had to make it to them first.

<"Negative! Do not advance!"> It's impossible to provide covering fire for someone in this fog. They can't see exactly where their targets are for the most part, and if Bors goes bounding off to try some heroic play at getting to the turrets to see them, he'll be exposing himself and out on his own all at the same time. Neither of those things is good, and definitely not in combination. "RETURN FIRE!" Jessika yells it towards the young Republic troopers mired down against the ground and trees, knowing that in a situation like this, sometimes what someone needs is a boot against the backside to get them motivated to do something other than cower. She has no such qualms, half-canting around the tree to squeeze off another shot after her visor again identifies an origin point. She doesn't stay exposed long. If the Jedi want to advance, like she watches Ben do right now? Well, that's on them, but last she checked, she didn't have a glowing laser sword that deflected blaster bolts or the mental gifts necessary to perform such a feat, and neither did almost anyone else gathered.

<<"By your lead.>> No shouting, Bors remains calm - utilizing his count to lean out and send a heavy bolt to one of the damaged turrets. Murmuring to himself as the bolt melts through damaged armor and sends out a fountain of sympathetic detonation from its tibanna stores, "Mother guide my hand and give me the grace to remain calm. Father show my eyes where danger stands so that I may shield my comrades..."

Swinging back into cover and beginning the count once more while giving his charge a brief check, singing in tempo to the blasts...

"Oh, sailoress dear, come on home. Won't you stay with me for another year? For another year? The ale is cool and the bed is warm. I hope see you walk through my do-oo-oor." stopping when a blast chews up the wood near his head, forcing him to duck. "ZOUNDS!"

Ben walks on, the blaster bolts flying around him, but none of them come near. When he reaches a certain distance from the turrets, his strides lengthen into a run, picking up speed until he launches himself at the nearest one, the saber in his hand swinging just wide as the barrel rotates erratically to track his approach. Twisting the grip, the blade reverses in a backhand that draws a line of glowing red across the reciprocating barrel and drops it to the forest floor with a metallic clank.

Moving quickly, the big man steps to the next, pulling his weapon back above his shoulder and chopping down like a lumberjack intent on felling a tree. Smoke chokes out of the emplaced gun, but he just keeps chopping, gouging smoldering furrows into the metal with each hack as the sparks fly upward. This goes on a few moments longer than seems strictly necessary before he backs away, swallowing as he glances right for the next target.

Rey starts to push forward from one bit of tree cover to the next, each time she moves eh fires off another round from her blaster pistol. She aims for the turret nearest, her camo poncho at least sort've helping to hide her amongst the foliage in the fog?

She's off to Ben's right side, staying further back than he is, since he's wielding his saber. "This is a lot of turrets!" She shouts out between shots, while ducking in behind another tree and holding her blaster aimed toward the tree canopy above.

The Sergeant makes it to the Private having a freak out. He climbs up on a knee and takes hold of their helmet with both hands. "HEY.. LOOK AT ME! LOOKATME!" Teary eyed, the Private looks up at their Sergeant. "NOW'S NOT THE TIME. GET MEAN, SOLDIER. YOU GOTTA HATE WHAT YOU'RE FIRING AT!" The Sarge picks the weapon up and puts it in the Private's hands. "NOW FIRE!" The private nods, and the Sarge shakes his head. "I DIDN'T HEAR YOU!"-- "YES SERGEANT!"

Nearby, another Private is pinned down by incoming fire and it chews through their cover, peppering them with heavy red lances. Armor shatters as they spill forward screaming in terror, surprise, and pain. "SARGE HELP! MEEEDIC!" They scream, not knowing what to do. The Sarge mutters "Rekk me," and runs after the other trooper to go help them.

Garza is breathing heavily and firing blindly from behind his tree. "TAKE THAT!" He screams and tries to twist so he can peer around the tree to see more of the laser sword and what's going on. All he sees is the El-tee running the wrong way, back from where they came from. "GARZA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! CHARGE WITH ME!" Garza gives him a look. "SIR.. THE TURRETS ARE /THAT/ WAY!"

There are six turrets left, moving about at random and trying to obtain good firing patterns on the squad. It's no wonder every platoon up till this point had such a difficult time. The turrets fired non-stop!

It's loud. Jessika can't remember what the forest being quiet sounded like minutes ago. All she hears right now is the chaos of the moment. A quick glance around spots the downed trooper yelling for a medic. The yelling had been for the benefit of the troopers. Jessika doesn't really feel like yelling at all. Raising her carbine up against her shoulder again, Jessika identifies the point of fire for one of the turrets and snaps her barrel up in its direction. A squeeze sends the bolt snapping through the mist, and she's rewarded with the crumpled thump of an explosion and the muted light show that follows. <"Blue, that sergeant and the downed private need cover while aid is rendered."> The only lightsaber she sees on the field belongs to Ben Solo, and while she doesn't question why Rey is not using her own, she knows that the Jedi is the best bet those troopers have of getting aid in the moment. <"Bubs, rotate.."> She starts to say something and look at him at the same time, but watching him break from cover and look more like he's flailing than running just leads her to trail off. Probably best to let him figure it out.

Up and moving, at the shouted conversation between veteran and recruit, Bors cannot help but shoot a -look- to the back of the NCO. A learned look. A look that he shall have to dip into the House Coffers in order to pay the royalties to one Major Pava for his brief utilization of trademarked and fantastical looks. He rushes from cover, kept low but sliding on leaves and offal come to rot and concealing slipping mud that makes his motion a comical tragedy more than a professional's jaunt under fire.

Run you moncole wearing clown. You beautiful... beautiful clown.

In cover, though after a hip slide into a hunk of ashen wood that causes his first words to run out on pained breath, "Heed me, and while thine sergeant speaks that you must fire." A grunt as he rights himself and as ever is speaking at length while briefly taking the private's weapon, checking charge and toggle, then slapping it back into the boy's grip. "Hate is a path that leads only to feed upon itself. Know that if you serve a cause of good, to protect those who cannot themselves then you are on a righteous path. Cling not to revile thy foe, for they too believe they are in the right and that we are the vile foeman whom threaten their ways." an even glance given.

"Mother give you grace to know you must do violence that others need not. Father give you the resolution to hold your path and know you shall sleep well that you are a champion of those who would be otherwise subjugated, dear sir. Your cause is just, your heart is pure and your spirit need only be let free so thee rise to be the valiant that you are meant to be." a smile so bright it risks illuminating their position and then he is preparing to lean around to fire anew.

Right up in the thick of it, amongst the turrets and harvesting them as a farmer would scythe wheat, is Ben. The automated guns flash all around him, and he moves between them with a certain brutal intensity, the fiery blade in his hand smashing down repeatedly on each as it becomes the subject of his wrath. His face is partially obscured by the tangled mop of hair that flies into it with each violent movement, but what is visible is a snarl.

Guilt-free, wanton devastation.

Bliss.

Rage. Rage?

The simmer kept down in the quiet times surprises him as it bubbles up to the surface, and the realization of what he's begun to tap into throws the last swing for a loop. Hot plasma scorches the earth as the blade sinks into it, the light reflected in dark eyes that stare down at the shaking hand holding the grip. He takes a deep breath, distracted from his path of destruction, and he turns back, looking for a splash of white in the treeline.

Rey's eyes raise up and over to where Jessika is. She nods quickly two times and leans against the tree trunk long enough to stuff that blaster pistol of hers back in to the leather holster on her thigh. "Right." Rey mutters, her hand going under her camo cloak then before she draws out her own saber's hilt. With a sweep of her thumb across the activation ring, blue and green lights flicker before the golden blade leaps out with a ghostly growl following it.

Rey emerges from her cover and instantly catches fire coming her way, sending her saber up to turn it away toward the foliage, though it was going to miss her anyway by a foot or so...

Arriving at the soldiers, she crouches near them. "I'll guard you." Rey tells them with a quick look to both of their eyes before she turns around and provides cover, that sunshine saber blade making her quite a target now though...

The Sergeant fires while moving from cover to the downed trooper. He doesn't stop at the trooper, but takes hold of their harness and drags them to a new point of cover. Leaving them belly down on the ground, he kneels over to begin giving field aid. He only glances up when the sudden sound of a lightsaber coming to life caught his ear. The golden aura of the blade reflected briefly in his eyes, he nodded his thanks, and went back to fixing his trooper. "THANKS!"

The trooper visited by Bors is given a sermon on the philosophies of good and war. They listen with confusion, and fire blindly around the tree. It's clear they don't hate what they're shooting at, but they also don't /know/ what they're shooting at. "I THINK SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH MY RIFLE!" They shake it and hold it out to Bors to fix, uncertain.

The El-tee realizing this mistake, runs back to Garza and slides in beside him. "DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS!" -- "YOU'RE GOOD SIR! NO ONE LISTENS TO ME ANYWAY!" Garza replies, firing blindly up in the air and dropping a limb nearby. Worthless. He peeks around about the time Ben has turned back, and locks eyes with the man, all shake-splotched armor and all. "I'M GOING TO GO HELP HIM OUT!" Garza lugs his fat self up and begins to move forward. "MOVING!" Garza calls out. It's such a foreign thing coming from his voice that the Sergeant looks up in confusion. "What is he doing?!"

Three turrets remain, although one is having issues functioning.

While the regular Republic unit does its best by mostly firing randomly into the mist and scores a few hits and takes a few hits, Jessika watches as Black Squadron eliminates an overwhelming majority of the turrets and takes no casualities in return. She's not proud of it, but she appreciates the efficiency. Their presence is a force multiplier, and that's the important part. As Rey begins to cover the sergeant while he renders first aid to the injured trooper, Jessika takes another glance around the battlefield. Mostly to Bors, who has hauled himself across the battlefield and is now speaking to the trooper who is down. <"Bubs, leave the poor trooper alone. He doesn't understand you. Just fire your weapon."> She takes her own advice and lines her carbine's sights up with flashing, arching sparks through the mist. Another squeeze of the trigger, another eruption of lights in the fog.

"Aim with thine eye and not with the barrel of thy weapon. See where you shoot and your hands shall make to follow." Bors gives the young man a look, motioning with his head, "Follow the point of attack or where our shots lead." coming around too soon, his shot singing wide of the target before he breathes and his lips murmur again in supplication.

"Breathe. Follow your senses and engage." opening fire once again to send the second bolt into the base of one of the turrets, creating a cherry red glow that could easily serve as a target market were one so inclined.

"And shoot not for the jedi, you shall only miss... and it would be uncouth." smiling again as he risks annihilation by his second shot.

<"Actual, I aim firing - needn't worry, I am simply providing lesson where needed.">

Finding his center again just as he notices Garza charging towards him, Ben turns with a slightly calmer demeanor than previously and slices a turret in half before bisecting the last remaining functional weapon, which sits in place for a long moment before slowwwwly sliding off its base and clanking down to the ground, a rim of glowing orange metal marking where it used to be one piece.

Amid the smoking ruins of the turrets, he glances left, glances right, and deactivates his saber, reaching behind his waist to slide it back onto its clip. Turning, he heads back towards the others, offering Garza a shrug as he passes the newly-energized private.

Rey's saber is held up at her side while her eyes go to where the blaster bolts were coming from, Ben's location essentially. She watches as he decimates the remaining two sources of enemy fire, and a second after his saber is retracted, her own glides back down in to her saber hilt.

It's there-after that Rey turns around to look at the Sergeant and the wounded one. "Do you need help?" She asks, of the field medic-work being performed.

When Garza finally made it to Ben Solo, he was so winded by the ordeal he fell to a knee. "Ugh.. the world is spinning, hold on. Ohhhh.. ugh.." And there it is; he turned his head to the side and let loose a pink shake spew of upchuck onto the ground.

"Sure," said the Sergeant, answering Rey. "I just need help getting them back to their feet." He positioned himself to one side of the injured soldier and nodded to the other side.

With the turrets eliminated, the secret structure lay just ahead. Covered in the eerie fog and hidden by a sea of trees, it was no wonder that units were having such a difficult time finding it. With the defenses taken out, it was just a matter of signaling in the negotiators from the New Republic. The easy part was done.

When reinforcements arrived, the Sergeant hauled his injured trooper to a place to sit down. The rest of the squad was nearby, the Lieutenant all grins. "I'm putting /everyone/ in for combat action awards," He regales. Garza doesn't seem to care, he's found an extra ration shake he's mixing with his water. The Sergeant sat down and lit a smoke. The mission a success. Red platoon was whole too. As thanks, Sarge offered the Major a smoke.