Log:Sith Empire: Red in Claw

Sith Empire: Red in Claw

OOC Date: November 10, 2021
Location: Coruscant
Participants: Sith Empire: Tamsin Cas, Tarq Najjic, Imani, and Darth Ferren

The task was simple enough in concept: fly in past the commandeered anti-air guns, drop from the ship to the suspended platform where the generators are protected by the specialized shielding array, and disable or destroy them. As always, though, what sounds simple on paper can take quite a bit of doing in the messy space of reality.

The shuttle comes in fast and low, a hot entry into the Citadel's general airspace though the generator platform hangs towards the far end of the long bridge leading to it. The biggest guns may be disabled, but the First Order's other defenses are still operational despite repeated bombardments from orbit, and the shellshocked but well-trained stormtrooper garrison has not faltered.

Small arms fire peppers the shuttle's shields as it skids to a stop in the sky above the platform, a hovering facility resembling a flying oil rig and roughly as large. The landing ramp opens up for the jump, and there is Darth Ferren, standing at the entrance, heavy cape flapping in the gusting air that blows in. "Fasten your gravbelts. This is our stop."

The aforemented belts are disposable units good for exactly one drop and rated to slow a human-sized mass from terminal velocity gently enough to avoid breaking any bones, usually, in most cases. Experimental, which is just another way of saying 'cutting edge' or 'of unknown reputation'.

Tamsin, who was always careful before an insertion, had been extra careful, as she had prepared in the shuttle. She had not minded the turbulence, nor the sudden rolls and almost flips. Those, she was almost used to. No, what she minded, was making certain that everything she had set to bring with her was properly secured. Medical supplies, helmet, saber, belt, and the grav belt over it all, checked for proper functioning and powered up, as she came to her feet, reaching out a hand to steady herself by grasping one of the handles at the side of the ramp. "I'm ready."

"Tarq Najjic always wanted to do this." The Sith Councilor built like a gymnast - you know, shoulders that really don't seem like they belong on the rest of the frame - has his gravbelt already strapped on. "Saw Mandalorian with one of these. Dropped from building, silent." This is way higher than any building but a skyhook, yes, but the Kuati evidently has full confidence in their efficacy. His smile is fit to split his face, white teeth reflecting the occasional blue static from the shield. "Remember, is energy shield. Sabers /off/ till inside."

He looks down off the ramp, squinting. Sees a landing place. Then, with a wink to the others ready at the ramp - he jumps.

Imani is dressed in her dark hued armor, weapons all securely strapped to her body in anticipation of the fact that there is going to be a jump from very high. It's not her favorite activity, but it's not her least favorite thing to do either, so when Ferren indicates it's time to go, she checks the experimental belt and then nods her helmeted head. "My turn to see what it's like to fly," she says cheerfully enough that the words remain cheerful even when carried through the vocoder. "Outside of the time I was thrown into a tree, I experienced flying briefly then too, but the landing today is going to be better." With those possibly jinxy words spoken, she takes a few long steps and then throws herself off the ramp.

The air outside the shuttle is fraught with blaster-fire, a crisscrossing web of plasma that rockets overhead, nearby, and below. Some thuds uselessly into the shields of the platform or the shuttle itself, but some is worryingly close to the bodies of the now-plummeting Sith council.

Aside from the traditional potshots lancing past, the platform's own defenses against this sort of thing begin to whirl into motion. Down below, figures in white plastoid armor leap into the seats of chaff cannons to launch flechette fragments up at the skydiving Sith. These cartridges sail upwards before exploding in small glittering clouds of razor-sharp particles like shards of glass.

With little fanfare, Darth Ferren nods at each in turn as they leap out, and when the shuttle is empty, he simply takes a step off of the landing ramp into the void beyond.

Tamsin, who was the last man out, angled herself as she fell, the belt doing most of the heavy lifting, yes, but it did not prevent the wind from buffeting her face and throwing off her ability to see whatever defenses were being sent their way. It also did not allow her much movement, and yet, she somehow did manage to use the wind to best effect, and avoided the first line of defense. But guns that that never just fired once, did they? She drew no weapon of her own yet, but her eyes were keen as she tried to catch sight of the most probably targets on the platform.

Traditionally, the first one out is the one they have a bit of delay in shooting, so it's more dangerous for those who follow after. When dropping from orbit, as in many other things, it's all turned upside down. Bolts of energy and flak cannons both pound away. Energy bolts sail past Tarq as he drops face-first into hell, but he's still smiling. Until he feels the Force tap on his shoulder, and looks to the left, at a less-visible but greater threat - a flak shell. As it explodes, flechette fragments speed out towards Tarq, who twists his body to minimize the surface area, but still takes several small hits, one along his cheek that immediately starts leaking slowly leaking blood - which, at this velocity, just runs down his cheek and into his clothing as though sprayed from a firehose.

This is why most Sith wear black: blood is hell to clean. He's not smiling anymore.

The jump went great. No trouble. Until there was trouble. Imani was gliding down at a velocity that wouldn't prove to be fatal to her, but then one of those clouds explode just below her. Much of it doesn't get through the hard outer shell of her armor, but there are weak spots, and it's in those that this glittering stuff gets her. Joints is where she's hurt, elbows, knees, at the waist, one hand gets a pretty good gash in it. None of it is immediately dangerous, but none of it is fun. The inside of her armor is going to be a mess.

It'd be a hell of a shot to ping one of the Sith mid-air like that, and one shot almost pulls it off, skimming by Ferren so close that it leaves a hole in his cape that won't be noticed till he hangs it up tonight. His eyes begin to water as the air whips past, but it's a short drop, relatively speaking, only a few seconds, and he squeezes them shut against the wind, allowing the Force to guide him around the obstacles in the air.

Banking left and right with limited effect, a bit of ability and luck combine to bring the dark lord through the first volley, but with the platform just below, the cannons are closer. The explosions of sharp fragments barely bigger than dust are harder to miss, and the guns swivel to track the Sith, blasting away in full knowledge that they are out of time for any additional volleys.

The second volley was no less damaging than the first, and behind her helmet, Tamsin could track the rest of the team, at least to some degree, and injuries were noted. There was a moment, when she almost reached for her medpac out of habit, only to remind herself that she was, indeed, still plummeting through the air, and while she was lucky enough to avoid the bombardment, she was unlikly to be able to make a snatch and grab for any of the team. No, she would just have to aim for the platform as close to the weapons as she could. How would she do that? Well, perhaps the force would guide her.

The whistling of chaff and flak mixes with the percussive thumps of the explosions scattering shrapnel among the Sith drop team. This time, forewarned, Tarq makes minor adjustments with his feet and hands that send him back and forth, sailing past fragmenting shells and superheated plasma as though reading their locations from a script. At last, as his body slips through the shield, he twists back around so his feet are under him as his momentum suddenly vanishes, nothing but coming down from an intentional leap. His boots hit the ground with a thud, left knee forward, cape fluttering softly down behind him. His green eyes open, and he's staring at a gun. They narrow.

The first half of the jump was painful, and... ok the second half stings, but just because of the first half. At least for Imani. It's not that she was particularly good at dodging things in mid air, she just got lucky the rest of the way down. The belt brings her to the ground to a gentle stop, knees bending to help soften what impact the belt doesn't prevent, then she sheds it and starts to move.

The other three land without incurring any further damage, their disposable gravbelts letting out an electric squeal of alarm as they kick in to slow the stop at the last second to something resembling 'safe', or at least less of an impact than would break a standard human bone.

Ferren, on the other hand, with his eyes still blissfully closed as he plummets downward, is shot in the air by just such an impressive potshot as his mind had moments before been aggrandizing. It takes him in the chest, smacking full force into the black metal plate that covers it and scorching the metal and underlying flesh.

The force of it knocks him off-course, falling through the air like a raven struck by a hawk. A moment later, the mass of flapping black fabric contorts, and just before impact he rights himself, slamming down onto the platform in a heavy but erect posture, chestplate smoking as he straightens up, discarding the spent gravbelt in the process.

They've landed in the middle of the platform. Catwalks and railings, stairways up, ring the perimeter and provide something of a shooter's gallery for the stormtroopers defending the little suspended station. The generators must lie below the metal deck, beneath their feet.

Tamsin, who had touched down without injury or incident, save for the spark of alarm as her belt shut down, did what Tamsin was wont to do, and she started looking for the quickest line between two points. Yes, there were stormtroopers, and yes, they were likely to start taking potshots at her, but so be it. She took a few breaths to try to get a handle on the place before she found what she hoped would be the quickest way to the generators, her saber called to hand and igniting as soon as her hand touched the hilt. Rather than leaping at any of the troopers, she turned the blade downward and pushed the blade into the steel, beginning the process of carving them a drop point.

When Tamsin finds a promising spot and starts cutting, Tarq steps over between her and the stormtroopers. "Carve path through, Tarq Najjic will cover rest of you." He activates his lightsaber which springs to life with a zzzzhrrrmm and swings it about in a circle with a twist of his wrist to limber up. He holds up his other hand to the stormtroopers, then bends his fingers back twice in the universal 'bring it' gesture.

Imani watches as Tarq takes up position to protect them, which is probably for the best with his spooky force powers and all. With their safety definitely assured, she turns to assist Tamsin in cutting through the floor. She might not have a saber, but the chain whip isn't nothing, and once Tamsin has made decent progress, she uses her own weapon to assist in forcing their way through the floor to the level below. Who needs stairs when you have brute force.

The defending garrison scrambles to the railings, raining fire down on the four intruders suddenly in their midst despite the best efforts of their flak gunners. Blasters peal their distinctive whine and shock of electric discharge.

Seeing that Tamsin has elected the path of least distance over the path of least resistance, Darth Ferren steps forward to join the two women in carving a new trap door in the platform floor. His lightsaber appears in his hand, a long beam of pulsating red energy, and immediately plunges into the deck, finishing the outline the other two have began and watching with a short nod of satisfaction as the panel falls through, leaving only a glowing orange ring behind and a round view of the catwalk below. It is darker down there, with bundled coils of copper wrapped around massive knotted twists of metal, the air static with electricity, dim red lighting cast over everything.

As soon as the trio of sith put their backs into it, the platform knew well enough when to give up the fight, and the round of metal fell down through into the level below. Tamsin, as she had begun this leg of the mission, stepped through, but with no belt to lessen the fall, she would simply need to trust to her own good self not to end up in a pile. Tamsin allowed the blade to die, but kept the hilt in hand as she descended into red-tinged darkness.

Tamsin, landing with a jolt she felt through her knees, took a quick look around, making out the lay of the land, calling up to the rest, "It's a warren of coils down here, the wiring all plugged into a series of large sockets." It was carving work now, or trying to short the coils.

Most of the shots at their group go wide - it's almost like they didn't expect four relentless, mystically-empowered attackers to drop through their roof without a ship and carve into the floor. One comes close to Tamsin, but before there's even the chance to see whether it would have nicked her or not, before it finds its mark, Tarq's lightsaber spins to block the way and continues turning - the bolt hits the blade, reflects back, and hits the trooper who fired it right in the chest, blowing armor both back into his body and out in a miniature explosion. "'s what you /get/," he mutters. The trooper may not be dead, but he'll probably hesitate before shooting at someone with a lightsaber next time. "Tarq Najjic follows last. Go!"

Imani gives Tamsin plenty of time to drop and get out of the way, both so she doesn't land on the woman. Also because lightsabers are involved, and she really doesn't want to land on one of those. This jump goes better than the last, dropping into the dim, red lit space with the heavy thud of boots against ground. She wastes no time moving out of the way so that others can follow, and only then does she have a look around to see what's in this new space.

One of the stormtroopers /does/ find himself hesitating before he shoots at someone with a lightsaber, but that combat integration is hard to shake and his finger squeezes the trigger reflexively anyway. Still, none of them are able to bring a shot within a dangerous distance of Tarq; maybe subconsciously they want to avoid giving him the chance to deflect the shots back.

Down into the fast-fading orange ring goes Ferren, dropping to the catwalk below with a heavy thump, lightsaber angled away from his compatriots and shearing a railing in the process. These things just happen, and he doesn't even appear to notice.

"The coils. They have to come out, or be destroyed, one way or another," he concurs after a cursory survey of the chamber. The copper wire-wrapped metal knots are larger than a human and line both sides of the catwalk, joined beneath it in a mass linkage of electrical engineering prowess that is undoubtedly lost on the demolition team here to destroy it. In the center, not far from where they've landed, are the sockets Tamsin called out, four mass termination points where the coils heave up to insert into the generator's core.

If this had been another time, another place, Tamsin might have taken the time to preserve the shield for her--er, their own use, but today was not that day, and this was not that group. And so, Tamsin did what she had been ordered to do, as soon as she had gotten her balance back, and she was sure no one was dropping down dead and on her head. She headed for the central station, such as it was and began carving through the coiled cabling, trying to bring down the system, well, as best she could. It was a process. "Also," she offered into her comms, "How are we to get out of here?"

Here comes Tarq, dropping down fully alive but not quite on Tamsin's head with a 'clunk' of boots against the deck, lightsaber still humming, living dangerously. A bisected pipe begins emitting steam at a whistle. "What is plan-" As Tamsin hacks through conduits, he tilts his head to one side, stops asking questions and begins driving his lightsaber into the coils lengthwise and moving the end of the handle about. It's the same motion as stirring a drink with the straw jammed through the center of its plastic top, but the effect here is rather more violent, sparks and red-hot metal and smoke quickly signifying its death. The next one, he has more trouble pushing the lightsaber into, and then it's stuck. He wedges his back against it, and pushes on it with both hands. Finally, it gives, drawing a hard slice through. Slag drips out.

"Oh. Exit. Right." One-time use gravity belts. He turns a sideways stare at Ferren.

Things need to be destroyed, and at least two of the people here can attest to the fact that Imani is good at destroying things. Even things they don't want her to destroy. Like certain artifacts. Which might be trouble later, but for now it's fine because wrecking things up is on the menu. "I've got this one," she says as she moves toward a specific coil and uses her chain whip to properly bash it not once, but twice. It's not quite as satisfying as slaying an enemy, but it's still fun.

"Did I neglect to mention this was a suicide mission?" Ferren chuckles wryly at the way the rest of the team has begun to give him pointed looks and make pointed comments about their method of egress. He reaches out with his weapon and gives the two remaining coils a powerful chop each across the middle, bisecting them handily with a sizeable discharge of electric energy, sparks flying.

As soon as the last coil is cut, the platform does a curious thing.

It starts to drift down.

It starts to fall.

"Up! Back up, the shields will be down. We're going to jump back into the shuttle. Before the whole thing falls out of the sky," Darth Ferren barks, his humor evaporating.

Weren't all of their missions suicide missions? Tamsin, though, was not stupid enough to ask this question out loud. Instead, she simply headed back up to the upper platform, trying to avoid sparking wires, electrical fires, and more blaster fire, as she made for the edge of the platform. No belt this time and it showed, as Tamsin took a wild leap out into the air, trying to aim for the shuttle and landing badly, as she slammed into the edge of the entry door, only just managing to tumble into the shuttle and not out of it again. That was going to leave a mark.

Tarq bends his knees and leaps out from below, springing from the hole and onto the platform. There's a sound of some sort behind him, and he twigs to something, whirling around, looking down, and extending his hand at someone still well out of reach, gripping her with the Force and making sure she gets to the deck. Was the Force trying to keep Imani safe by warning Tarq? ... ironic.

He glances over his shoulder at the shuttle, gauging its distance. As it lurches closer, he closes his eyes, starts to lean, and pushes off the ground, his backflip ending at the ramp. He makes his way in by backing up, reaching out to the rail to help backstop Tamsin, and keeping his eye on the valued team members down below.

"I feel like all of our missions are some level of suicide mission," Imani says as she steps back from the good work of destroying something. She is bold enough to speak this thought out loud, and then laugh at the idea. "At least for me." The fool normie who consorts with dark side force users. Her amusement is cut short however, because they drift, then fall, and suddenly getting /out/ seems a lot more important than sharing playful truths. The others jump up and, well, Imani isn't blessed by the force so she just looks up at the floor above her feeling like it's miles away, rather than the less impressive number of feet that she can't jump. "Well..."

Well.

She makes a cursory attempt at climbing, because her options are currently limited, but she's suddenly yanked up by a force she can't see and doesn't understand, and suddenly is on the platform that was only moments earlier well over her head. There's a brief 'AAAAA' along the way, a moment of relief, and then she's on her feet making a mad dash for the ship. Another jump is involved, and it is only just enough to make it, but not enough for her not to stagger up the ramp with an unusual lack of grace.

Darth Ferren is not without some resources, having called in the shuttle /before/ cutting the last coil with a discreet communicator. The Grimoire matches the accelerating drop of the generator platform, landing ramp extended. The shuttle itself is slanted far forward to keep the ramp somewhat parallel with the deck of the platform, so anyone who manages to reach it is liable to roll into the passenger bay and keep rolling until they hit something hard inside.

The dark lord gives Imani a boost, but merely using his hand. Tarq's tug makes that easy enough, and just after her he leaps out. Long strides carry him to the edge of the platform as its plummet continues to accelerate, and his leap to the shuttle is almost more a push-off from one object in freefall to another. When his boots hit the ramp, it begins to close, Grimoire leveling out before angling up to soar skyward, rocketing up away from the platform just as it reaches the cityscape below.

A low, dull THUMP sends a shockwave through the ship, a deep reverberation felt down in the bones, as whatever reactor technology the generator contained detonates on impact, chewing through an entire block of the burnt-out buildings ringing the Citadel.

Ferren, fresh scorchmark and all, glances around at the others in various states of composure. "Well." He sniffs, adjusts his belt, glances back through a viewport at the crater left in their wake. "No more disposable gravbelts."