Log:Guerrillas Ain't Kosher

Guerrillas Ain't Kosher

OOC Date: January 3, 2016
Location: Serenno
Participants: General Hux as GM, Fuze, Duke, Booker, EM-1710, Tenn Ro

The dropship is small and lacking appurtenances. Its sole purpose is to convey troops safely to the ground, and it has a turret to make sure they get there. The ship swerves, clearly following the lay of the ground. Delta Squad is the leftmost transport of four.

The briefing was not long, though it was piped to multiple rooms. "Company Beta, you are deploying into an old militia outpost that we believe has been reactivated. Parts of it are underground; the rest is overgrown." The perimeter walls have largely been torn down by erosion and plant life. It forms an X, with a building at each end and a larger one in the middle. The middle building is the most intact, but grass is meters high and the trees that were once ornaments have become true obstacles to line of sight and approach. "Ground and air vehicles have been coming here and departing, despite the lack of activity on the surface. They have been arriving here." A gulch that leads into a tunnel is highlighted in red. "This is the only known entrance. We believe that a faction of militia are using this as a transshipment point to get their weapons into the hands of civilians before we disarm them altogether. We do not want a guerrilla war."

General Hux's words are accompanied by multiple arrows approaching the base from multiple directions, with the north side left open. "Your objectives: destroy any munitions. Eliminate militia. If any civilians are armed, take at least one captive, so we can learn if we are correct about the faction's intentions. Good hunting."

From her TIE Fighter, FZ-4792 can see that the transports are skimming treetops. This is a multiple squad insertion, a joint operation. Though her squadron would easily outpace the transports, their orders are to clear a landing zone without giving away the assault any sooner than necessary and provide air cover and reconnaissance during the mission.

The time to clear the way is upon the TIE Fighters. Time to see if the two turrets by every building are better maintained than everything else!

As the transports move in, the TIE fighters hang back, keeping low and hugging the ground to the North, their panels almost kissing the ground. It's a calculated gamble Lieutenant FZ-4792 is taking; exposing the transports to the possibility of being taken out by ground fire from turrets not visible in the briefing. But take out the turrets that /are/ visible in the briefing ahead of time, and you've alerted every defender in the place to the fact that First Order troop dropships might be waddling along sometime soon. So, just before the troopships get within firing range of the batteries, the TIEs suddenly form into their attack formation - twelve ships, four flights of three, with each triplet flying in a staggered Vee formation. The four flights come in line astern, overtaking the sluggish troop carriers, skimming past at treetop height.

And then they're on the turrets.

The pew-pew-pews of the TIE fighters light up the sky, appearing to be lazy arcs of light that dart across the intervening space between ship and turret with a certain grace before exploding into smoke and flame. The four attack wings split at the last moment, each taking one of the six turrets; two turrets explode into gouts of crimson and black, a third starts to turn before it is blown off its gimbals, and a fourth manages a single shot that disappears lazily into the sky before the First Order's power is unleashed upon it; the power-pack/magazine must have been hit, for it explodes in a truly satisfying explosion that sends shrapnel spinning viciously through the air. One of the TIE fighters was too close and the shrapnel shreds the side panels, shatters the windshield, and fragments embed themselves in the pilot's uniform. That TIE fighter goes screaming up, up into the sky, aborting its attack run, and leaking a miasma-like trail of black smoke it turns and heads for home. That leaves two turrets, and the remaining TIE fighters turn upon them. But the gunners are reacting, and the barrels thudda-thudda as the TIEs zig and zag in. Another hit leaves a turret pouring black smoke, its guns pointed at extreme depression; and the remaining turret, left in the unenviable position of trying to defend against eleven TIE fighters strafing across from left to right, from right to left and acrosswise, timing their runs to avoid any blue-on-blue midairs, suddenly falls silent as the controls are shot away. The gunners flee back into their lairs.

Her first combat drop since transfering from Starkiller, EM-1710 is on the ground. Designated sniper or not, she'd only been around long enough to carry her F-11 into battle. Moving from the dropship the trooper moves with the squad, scanning the surrounding s from beneath the visual display of her helmet and then peering down her sights. At least until she gives a little shudder feeling the first real world sensation of an arial strike for the first time.

With this being Ensign Tenn Ro's first real mission in the field, there is no doubt a steady stream of anxiety that radiates off of him like an overheated engine. He did not wear Stormtrooper armor, just a black engineering jumpsuit with his rank chevron emblazoned as a crest on his breast. Despite lacking any real armor, he sports a vizor-less blast helm which he grabbed on the way out of the Finalizer, just in case.. ya know.. he got shot in the head. Multiple tools and small computer systems make up the majority of his chest harness, which he is instinctively going through and cataloging for the tenth time since they left the Star Destroyer.

With little social interaction to be had with the scary-elite troops, Tenn bides his time until it's time to exit the transports, standing quickly when the ramp extends to the ground below.

DK-4077 is standing near the front left of the shuttle, rifle at the ready. So far, the young soldier hasn't said much at all. He even managed to remain mostly quiet throughout the length of the briefing. He rolls his shoulders and neck, exhaling a slow breath as the safety is clicked to the 'off' position. Other than that, he awaits touchdown.

Once the ramp drop, the soldier is quick to bolt down the length of it, rifle raised and scanning their immediate surroundings for signs of enemy activity. "Clear!" he barks as he feet continue him on his way towards the entrance of the compound.

Down the gravity well goes BK-8642, or otherwise known as Booker, and previously known as Buck. The worst part is the feeling of bile and half a meal churning upwards and downwards with the gingerly made ministrations of a pilot; those minor course corrections have him shouldering into the bulkhead near to his head and then correcting his stance. The grip on his carbine tightens, relaxes as he stands at the rear right of everyone. When the troop doors squelch open and produces Delta Squad, Booker levels his blaster at the low ready. He trundles out, covering their right flank. Someone put him in charge though. "Duke, take point, we're headed for the main structure. Everyone else, spread out. Wedge formation." Booker hesitates only long enough to turn his black visor in the direction of Tenn Ro. The acting Stormtrooper-in-charge points at the young man and then at the ground near to his own feet. He leaves it to the fates, and physical conditioning courtesy the First Order, on whether or not the officer can keep pace.

Tenn catches the hand-gesture from the acting leader. Despite being an engineer, he went through basic training upon joining the Navy. He wasn't totally ignorant to the process of war. Just never experienced it outside of the one year simulation. Slung over the back side of his shoulder is an old H-11 Carbine, dented and weathered from years of use. Despite having this weapon, he holds his First Order issued pistol at a ready position, weary on protocol about using outside weapons on missions.

Following the gesture, Tenn quickly moves to shadow BK-8642, nodding at him silenty as he joins his side.

Down the ramps and into the tall grass go the troopers from every transport while the TIEs scream about overhead. Delta Squad proceeds towards the center of the base, while the others form a perimeter and investigate each of the other buildings. The first outbuilding is pronounced "Clear!" by the time Duke reaches the front door. It opens easily to a solid kick, only to reveal a number of office cubicles, a few air vents in the wall, and a large computer occupying one wall. The computer is on and humming, and air is emerging from the vents.

There are still turrets on the far side of the building, so a close formation is necessary to avoid getting blasted, but so far, so good.

The TIE fighters scream overhead, strafing the remaining turrets in a complicated aerial dance. As yet another turret falls silent and the dropships are touching down, there's an exultant whoop from one of the younger, less experienced, gunners that is audible on the flight frequency. The Squadron Commander of the TIE fighters, FZ-4792, callsign 'Fuze', squashes that instantly with a snapped, "Belay that chitchat, Alpha Eleven. Alright, we've cleaned them up. Let the groundpounders do their job. Alpha Seven, what's your status?" But it doesn't sound good for the crippled ship, and Fuze orders Seven's two wingmen to formate and "bring them home." Whether or not Alpha Seven makes it is highly questionable. The remaining TIEs streak back in their Vee formation towards the ominous bulk of the Finalizer. The pilots and gunners will be landed, debriefed and hitting the Swing room's bar long before the Stormtroopers on the ground have finished their killing...and dying...

DK-4077 holds his hand up and clenches it into a fist as he kicks the door down and moves inside, offering a simple, "Hold. Signs of enemy activity. BK-8642, trip mines ahead. Please advise." The barrel of his rifle is swung to and fro as he watched for screaming militia fighters with a score to settle.

The engineer in Tenn naturally perks up when he hear's the word 'trip mines'. His mind instantly starts to race, going over the schematics of commonly used trip-mines. With these plans being articulated mentally, he instantly begins to pluck tools from his harness, "I've got this.. stay back.." Stepping sideways towards a proximity motion sensor, Tenn bends down, slowly removing the outer casing with a small hydrospanner. Within seconds the laser dies. The combat engineer soon makes his way to each mine and laser, disabling them with expert grace. "All good!"

Breaking away from the squad as they move in, EM-1710 moves up into position, her armored boots thudding away as she takes up position and moves to lay prone, watching through her scope. Sure enough, there's something to see. Activating her helmet comminications she relays her sighting to the rest of the forces. "EM-1710 reporting. I have a rear enterance and a small squad moving out. Engaging."

A bolt from the blue, EM-1710's scope narrows on the would-be ambusher's most 'in-charge' looking individual and she squeezes the trigger. A single bolt hits the man's head and he drops like a puppet with cut strings, sowing a little chaos with the remaining men who watch one of their number cut down suddenly.

BK-8642 only waits long enough for Tenn to acknowledge and then proceeds to follow the others. His ears are filled with the sounds of battle; voices, movements, some faint din as the rush of adrenaline makes him all the more aware. Of taskings, primarily. DK-4077 signals a halt and BK-8642 signals to fan out further, place distance between bodies, and the report means that it's Tenn's time to shine. His helmet turns to look briefly to the Ensign. "Sir," he bids. Once the mine obstacle is clear, he pops into his lovely new office; only to find it cleared out, relatively. There are computer banks on a wall, however, and that is his immediate concern. "Seven-Seven," Booker waves over Duke to look over the presented files. "Munitions are below. First, I believe this security system is in need of a more refined... touch."

"Belay that," Duke remarks to Booker. "Delta squad, take defensive positions; I'm clocking footsteps coming from the far door." The soldier gestures towards the double doors at the end of the hallway and moves to tuck himself behind a wall, blaster at the ready.

The soldiers EM-1710 sees emerging from a half-buried exit tunnel - it looks like a converted drainpipe - are not the most confident of soldiers. They look intimidated even by seeing the backs of stormtroopers. And once Emma's first shot takes down their apparent squad leader, they go into a panic. Their hesitant movements turn into dives for cover. It's harder to see them once they make it into the grass, but the perimeter stormtroopers know they're there, now, and the five soldier-civilians are pinned.

The computer display does indeed control the surveillance systems for the base, including below. They demand a higher level of authentication than Booker was able to mimic, if you are to gain access to them.

However, Duke has provided advance warning of someone assembling outside the double doors at the other end of this office, but even he stops hearing them after a moment - right outside the doors, if sound is to be believed. There are cubicles and wall projections to serve as cover. All the mines have been deactivated.

Another trooper, JH-1289, is definitely on the large side. Not large like the late lamented Porkins of Red Six fame, but noticeable in any parade for standing a head taller and fifty pounds heavier than everyone else. So he's been equipped with a Handheld One Person Tactical Dynamic Door Entry Tool. In other words, a battering ram. Now he moves up to that door, behind which are maybe or maybe not more of the militia scum. With the ram appearing tiny in his massive gloved hands, he just looks back, waiting for the order to breach. (And, he has a carbine, of course, but that's far less exciting).

EM-1710 sees the men go to grass and fires again, but this time? The blot tears through grass rather then her target. A miss, enough to make the trooper frown behind her helmet, but she keeps on target. Even if she can't hit the paniced soldiers, she'll certainly keep their heads down! The sniper exhales, taking another breath and adjusting the uncomfortable position of laying prone in her armor.

"Ensign, over here, if you will. We need your hands to be our eyes." BK-8642 lacks refined touches as far as computer systems are concerned, and the Stormtroopers are better in a fight - as far as Booker cares, so they can provide a high intensity volume of covering fire. Rather than linger in the recesses of the room, he heads for the doorway to take stock of the situation and mildly glance at the deactivate trip mines. Stormtroopers outside. Possibly five hostiles outside. They're inside. "Seven-Seven, Eight-Nine, breach the entrance as soon as our good officer gives us clearance."

Tenn quickly strides towards the computer terminal, his prior tools being returned to their proper position amongst the collective. "Yessir." Cracking his knuckles against each-other, Tenn begins to tap away rapidly at the terminal display. He spends a few moments cracking into the terminals software, bypassing the firewall. Several tsks and hmm's are echoed quietly from his lips before finally, "Ah-hah!" The black screen flashes briefly before several windows cascade across the screen.

This is where it get's tricky. Tenn leans closer towards the screen as he rapidly edits code and changes option settings. "I've gained control of the surveillance system, and rerouted it to the Finalizer. Also managed to pull up a schematic of the place, those have also been transferred to the Finalizer." He spends a few more moments tapping away before he looks back, "I've also gone ahead and opened up the doors to the other access points. Hope that helps."

Tenn glances back to the C.O, "I can stay here and play god from here, or I can assist you guys further. Your call."

Booker is all about that breach, about that breach. There is no distinctive treble in his voice when he motions for them to stack in formation upon the door. "Breach. Sir, you may play with your fate here." He designates half of the group within the current room to hold down the fort which leaves the remainder: BK-8642, DK-4077, JH-128, and two other brave saps to continue the mission onwards. "I may call for reinforcements. If that is the case, remember air support."

The big Stormtrooper glances back, the slit of his visor revealing no emotion as he checks his team is stacked behind him. Then, everything in place, he drives the battering ram hard into the door, the motion intended to drive through the door and into anyone standing beyond it...

The militia on the other side of the door are waiting for orders, that's clear, but they've had time to get prone, get crouched, or and to get against the walls to either side of the door. When the door opens with its crunch and shoves into the first two, they are surprised, but also in position to quickly fire back, and they do.

EM-1710 is on target, but something catches the corner of her eye. Turning herself onto her side she's left looking at the speeders trying to break through the troopers on the other side, her roll comes up to a seated position as she braces the barrel in the crook of her elbow and pulls the trigger. Another single shot streaks across the open space and slams into the driver of the lead vehicle. "I've got several speeders and repulsor trucks making a break for it from the tunnel. They are delayed." A cool tone, all business this sniper.

DK-4077 is waiting patiently, half covered by a wall, and waiting for everything to play out. However, once that door begins to open, he's right on the money as he sends a blaster bolt searing straight towards a rebel's pretty little head. "Contact!"

Without saying another word, Tenn taps away at the terminal, pulling up live feeds from all around the compound. Using skills he learned from the Navy, the Engineer studies the feeds mapping them out, and jotting down random bits of statistics in the form of columns of decimal'd information. Each camera feed receives the same amount of attention while he plots whatever he may be plotting.

The big Stormtrooper ducks as the door splinters and crashes open under his ram, and a blaster bolt sears across the helmet, bubbling the finish but not harming the man. Big and quick, a dangerous combination. He simply hurls the ram through at the opposition, more to have it distract them than any real hope of causing damage, and flattens himself back around behind the door to a) clear the field of fire for those Stormtroopers behind him, and b) unholster his own blaster.

The speeders are stuck behind the first repulsor truck, whose driver is now dead thanks to EM-1710. Other stormtroopers flood down to ensure no one replaces him and to take down the other vehicles. It is no surprise to anyone that they are carrying weapons. One retreats back into the base rather than be taken.

Thanks to Tenn Ro slicing through the security systems and shutting out everyone else, there are no further surprises. Delta Squad knows what waits around every corner, each blast door opens when needed and closes when desired.

The base's total loss of control over its own destiny becomes more apparent with every dead militiaman. Most begin to hide, hoping to be overlooked in the sweep. There are prisoners aplenty.

The guerrilla soldiers Command was hoping to find are the last holdouts, in the back of that one repulsorlift truck that came back into the base. They fight with more zeal than the militia did, though with less skill. The commander they were fighting to protect: Millus J'Kar, of the house that controls Serenno's militia. Thanks to DK-4077's quick blaster work, he is shot - on stun. Intelligence will be pleased to have a new guest in the detention cells.

A potentially complicated mission seems easy due to good air cover, good shooting, good situational awareness, and technical prowess. As the dropships bring the soldiers home, the base and its munitions are detonated. The rapidly expanding superheated gas knocks trees flat for miles and sears the tall grasses into oblivion in a perfect circle, contained in one direction by hills.

There is a fire on the plains. The First Order doesn't care.