DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games CFH: A Call For Heroes CFH8: Assault on GH-531

GM

Admiral Avarik walks along a spartan corridor aboard her Star Destroyer, her greybeard father beside her. Ahead of them march the blue and red combat droids, MagnaGuard and Jedi Hunter.

The Admiral wears her black First Order uniform, Avarik Senior wears expensive satin robes and a long, brocaded scarf.

They talk, lowering their voices as they pass crew.

"I know Enric Pryde," says Senior, "he always loved the Emperor. The Empire was his whole identity."

His daughter scowls, blue eyes beneath blonde brows.

"And now the Supreme Leader has fallen, Pryde brings the First Order and Sith Eternal together under his command." She says.

"The Reborn Emperor's command." Corrects Senior.

Avarik scoffs, "Is the Emperor's dark sorcery compatible with the ideals of the First Order? The ideals of the High Human? Father, we set out to cleanse the Galaxy, create a place of pure humanity.

"This Emperor doesn't mean to purge non-humans. He means to subjugate and debase all life. We'll be left ruling a galaxy of ignorant savages, dancing around fires and scratching in the dirt."

Senior looks worried by his daughter's mutinous talk but doesn't disagree. He was a scout trooper in the Empire. He saw how it fell apart, humiliated at Endor, plaything of an Emperor more concerned with his ancient religion.

"There's nothing we can do about it." He says grimly, "Surrender or die. The Supreme Council are with Pryde. A fleet of thousands of planet-killers is hard to turn down."

The Xyston-class Star Destroyers are impressive; Admiral Avarik has seen the schematics. But they're vulnerable and almost entirely superlaser. They don't have the multi-role capability of the First Order's ships. Thus the First Order still has a crucial role to play in the Final Order.

The four figures emerge onto the obsidian bridge of the Silencer.

"It's not over yet." The Admiral mutters to herself, scanning around, "Not if we find this Scavenger they're all so afraid of."

She sees the man she's looking for: A supervisor in a teal double-breasted uniform.

"Commander!"

The man turns sharply, staightens up, eager to please. The Admiral strides over.

"Yes, Admiral." Says the supervisor, screwing down his nerves.

"Scavenger trouble on Jakku. Status update." Avarik demands and the supervisor twitches.

"Just the locals falling out, Admiral. The Resistance aren't involved."

Admiral Avarik doesn't sound like she heard him.

"Reports on the ground mention a BB-unit, laser swords." She says.

"Unkar Plutt trying to fool us into eradicating his rivals, Admiral."

"Yet these scavengers avoided inspection and ran rather than be boarded."

"Yes, Admiral. They got lucky and lost us in an old Imperial tunnel system."

"They knew about those tunnels somehow, Commander. And outran our TIE Fighters in a Quadjumper."

The supervisor clears his throat and takes a more defensive posture.

"We caught up with the Quadjumper at Niima Outpost, Admiral. No BB-unit or laser sword. The pilot was high on stims and quite obnoxious. We meted out corporal punishment and left it at that."

"Identification?" Asks the Admiral.

"Licenced on Ord Mantell, flying freight for one Fira Bon, a New Republic deserter. They're nobody."

The supervisor watches Admiral Avarik stand and fume silently; angry?

Not wanting to be subject of any disciplinary, the supervisor offers up another target.

"It was Group Captain Talkar who lost the Quadjumper, Admiral. He came back and requested permission to track an entirely different vessel through hyperspace."

Admiral Avarik is suddenly keenly interested again. Talkar is her age, she knows him to be a savvy operator. Special Forces.

"And?" She asks.

"Talkar picked up a Cronau trace from the ship that delivered the container to the Quadjumper." The supervisor explains, continuing, "A Corellian light freighter. It jumped to hyperspace sometime after he lost the Quadjumper. He felt the trace proved the ship had an unusual hyperdrive signature."

The supervisor's confident in his handling of the situation, showing he has everything under control. "We denied permission, obviously." He says, "Our hyperspace tracker isn't for chasing every fringer that blips our sensors."

The Admiral smiles. It's a cold, predatorial smile like a Nexu, focused entirely on the supervisor.

"Commander. I'm granting permission. Divert power to the hyperspace tracker and ready a TIE Echelon. Get me a secure line to Group Captain Talkar."

The supervisor flushes and nods smartly, as if sensing Executioner Troopers in his future.

"Yes, right away, Admiral!"

Avarik returns to her father's side with a smirk.

"It's not over yet."

GM

Outer space.

Suddenly the Bargon Flit drops out of hyperspace, its running lights fritzing out.

In the cockpit it feels like the ship literally dropped 20 metres with a loud, bone-jarring bang when it hit realspace.

Lieutenant Bek oggles the console with his large, green eyes.

"By the stars, that drop took out Arrays Two and Three on the inertial compensator!!"

"Worst adverse gravity I've ever seen; we'll need to repair before---"

He looks up and sees what the rest of you see, some from your seats, some as you enter the cockpit.

Ahead, through the canopy hangs a yellow moon with a ringed gas giant rising behind its curvature.

Bek redirects his attention to the sensors.

"Repairs can wait." He says, pointing to the moon, "According to the data that's GH-531."

He looks around at the team. Everyone's good to go.

"J.B., take us in, steady as she goes. Avoid mega-hard acceleration.

"Toobee, monitor comms. I'll scan the surface."

If there are any First Order forces on GH-531, they're likely to be guarding Ghidrah. They'll attack any unauthorised vessel.

But though it might be tempting to fly in 'fangs out', that would tip your hand early. At present you appear as an old, unarmed Corellian light freighter. Barely a threat. Only meriting a light response if you are detected.

In the cockpit you perhaps talk quietly amongst yourselves as the moon grows to fill the entire view.

If 2BB-2 has a sense of humour he might be grimly amused to confirm that Ghidrah has indeed flooded all channels. There's nothing getting through but the Final Order message on a loop. GH-531 won't be calling in any reinforcements while its playing... and it will take a brave technician to interupt the Reborn Emperor's moment of triumph to send a distress signal.

The surface of the moon seems to be active, alive almost, with roiling, flashing clouds, shrouded by a hazy atmosphere.

"Ionised dust storms," says Bek, "interferring with over-the-horizon sensors. Hmm, the air is toxic but temperature and gravity nominal."

The ship cruises on a smooth descent through the stratosphere and as the haze clears, you see a surface gleaming with mirror-like lagoons, criss-crossed with rocky massifs. The light is yellow, the gas giant faintly visible in the sky.

"Quite remarkable. Shallow seas of liquid meleenium. The whole surface could act like a transceiver dish." The Lieutenant says.

It's alien, apparently barren, but has a beauty all of its own.

"Ah hah, there, that crescent-shaped range! I'm picking up energy readings from a shield, it must be the Ghidrah node.

"J.B., stay low and bring us in to land. We'll scout ahead on foot."

***

The ramp lowers beneath the Bargon Flit. On it, the Resistance team stand, slowly revealed by the yellow light. Armed for gundark, wearing combat gear and lightweight breath masks.

The ground is mostly dry pourous rock, wind speed low but gusty. The temperature mild, about 15 degrees. Weather that could quickly turn into a storm, though none are forecast by the sensors.

Soon the team are lying prone on a false ridge, surveying not one but two old Imperial bases through quadnoculars, each on opposite ends of the mountain range.

One has more built-up superstructure, with floors, windows, rectennas, shuttleport, and a spherical shield generator. It has the look of an operating base.

The other is more hardened, featureless like a bunker. Protruding from the mountainside above it, a column of huge, grey metallic rings, almost like an ancient hyperwave beacon.

Connecting both facilities across a liquid metal lagoon is an Imperial conveyex line, elevated, with an old Railcrawler docked at the operating base.

Also patrolling outside the operating base, a First Order AT-AT walker, indicating the presence of Stormtroopers.

Both facilities are situated on the outside curve of the crescent, mostly hidden from each other by the mountains. Additional protection from radiation for the operating base.

You soon agree that the operating base must be the lower security area with more personnel, the hardened bunker is where Ghidrah is likely located.

"This will require two teams." Says Bek finally through his comlink. Rolling over and sitting up, "Smoke Team to infiltrate the operating base, steal intel and sabotage their armed response. Mirror Team to penetrate the bunker, take over Ghidrah and clear hypercomms for the Resistance."

Bek's naval rank places him about level with Winta, who holds the rank of army captain. When it comes to tactical command and selecting teams, it's her bailiwick though so far she typically trusts her team-mates to sort themselves out. More of a special forces approach.

2BB-2 must go with Mirror Team and Lieutenant Bek will stay with the ship.

Winta

She looked to Amos. "Amos, take Jix and get JB and BB2B to the bunker."

"Preach, Sirra and I will head for the other complex, and see if we can persuade the people there to leave you alone."

"Let us know when you are done - things may have got a bit hectic at our end by then."


Winta looked to Sirra, "We'll need to see if you can get us in unnoticed somehow, and then we will be pretty much playing it by ear."

She cast her eyes over everyone. "Good to go?" she asked.

Preach

The old man nodded, his dreads swinging. He was ready to follow the plan.

2BB-2

An affirmative beep from the seemingly confusingly-nomenclatured droid.

Jix

He nods, his antennae continuing the nod from behind even after his head had stopped moving. He is ready. Better to have purpose, to be following orders. Sitting around gives too much time to think, to dwell on the emptiness.

He shrugs his pack on, hefts his weapon. He is ready.

Jelly Bean

The Ryllina sat there at the D'Jaril table a moment longer. The sudden shudder through the ship, the momentary loss of power, all of it was lost on her because in that moment her lightsaber came together. It was the pressure. When she stopped thinking about it, stopped worrying about it, stopped imagining her success, and stopped fearing her failure, it all came together. Preach's words allowed her to focus on what being a survivor actually meant to her. That innate trust in her instincts. All her life, the Force had been guiding her. it enabled her to put up such a fight against the salvers, it allowed her to endure and survive years of captivity and forced servitude to Tenga the Hutt, and it was helping her now. Stop thinking about it, search your feelings, and know that it was there.

The lightsaber hung there in the air before her when she finally realized that the ship was running through spatial shear. The moment was broken and the new saber began to fall. With a lightning fast reflexive grab she snatched it out of the air before it hit the table. The other hand snared the shoto saber that Maz had given her. Two sabers, one was hung on her left hip, the other behind her bak, and she checked the snugness of her blaster on her right hip as she followed her team to the cockpit.

Bek gave her the space to slide into the pilot's chair.

"Yes Lieutenant," she replied at his directions for their approach.

***

Once landed, Bek and Winta organized the teams for two separate missions. Mirror team with BaBay, Amos, and Jix. Getting BaBay to the node was the only thing that mattered. The other team, the two Jedi and Sirra would search for Intel and thin out any reinforcements. Once the First order realized they were here, the poodoo druk was going to hit the oscillation turbine real fast!

But this was the first opportunity that JB had in four years to learn something about a particular First Order officer. The first chance to learn the truth. It was the sole reason she accepted Maz's offer to join the Resistance. JB knew Maz and and the Resistance were using her, and JB was very clear with Maz about what she wanted from the Resistance.

But a lot had changed for her in those 4 years. All he training. She wasn't that teenaged girl with more raw potential than skill anymore. Maz had honed her like a weapon. She has taught her about the Force and then trained her to fight, with weapons like blasters and training sabers, and with her body as well, hands, fists , and feet. Her speed and agility refined the styles in which Maz focused the training. She wasn't very tall and she wasn't very strong, but she was fast and she could move like water. Strange analogy to describe a Ryllian, right? As the training progressed with the training saber, Maz taught her to fight with two sabers, to learn to use her hands independently of each other. She learned all the Jedi fighting forms, but she excelled at form IV- Ataru- the aggression form. The training was intense, and Maz was unrelenting. She showed her how too let the Force guide her movements and how to incorporate it into her dance. In a way, she had taken Form iV and made it her own style, her own new Form. When she had mastered everything there was o learn with that, then Maz let her train with real lightsabers and then taught her a complimentary technique that was very old. Maz said that it actually predated the invention of Lightsabers... Jar'Kai.

Jelly bean knew she was lethal but her own self doubts had clouded her ability to complete an important aspect of her training. But that obstacle had been overcome and to both Maz and preach, especially preach, she was grateful. While she hadn't actually tested her saber... she knew it worked.

Now it was time to take those first steps into her destiny.

Before the groups separated for their respective missions, JB slipped up alongside Sirra.

"Numa," she said quietly. The Ryllian word for sister. "If... if you can find a name... MalJahn Relnard... Colonel... Special Operations... He wore a blue-green uniform." And Sirra would remember the scrap of fabric that JB wrapped her precious box of treasures was that color, a uniform style Sirra would surely be familiar with from her own background. "Be careful though. Don't endanger the mission for this... but if possible... It's important to me... he's important to me. Tell me of his fate... Grief or Hope. Either is better than not knowing. Ma'allesh.(safe travels)"

[OOC - oops! Sorry!]

[C'mon, BB-units all look the same right!? ]

Sirra

“Winta, I will do what I do to the best of my abilities. I’ll have to see what the lay of the land is when we get there”

She pauses a long while, biting her lip when JB approaches. She still felt a bit more like an outsider than one of them. After all, not that long ago she would have been one of the ones on the other side.

“I’m not sure why you’re trusting me with this, but I’m taking it seriously nonetheless. MalJahn Relnard... Colonel... Special Operations. If there is any way to do this for you, I will see it done. For what it is worth, you have my word on that.”

It sounded like the Twi’lek had perhaps left something behind. That, she could understand. Although it sounded like JB still had an attachment to this colonel, where Sirra ... well. What good were attachments anyway? You can’t miss something you have disowned and which has disowned you.

Right?

Amos

He waited for the others to get their gear settled and gathered them around him once JB was done with her discussion with Sirra.

"We go silent and move for cover and make our way over, keeping in mind 2BB-2's movement ability. I will take lead. Jix, take rear. Sub-vocalize if you need to pass on anything." he said quietly, making sure his own gear was settled and then motioning for his strike team to follow as they headed out for their objective.

Jelly Bean

"Arni'soyacho," replied Jelly Bean. It was a Ryllian phrase. She followed that up with the the closest translation she knew in Galactic Basic even though she knew the Galactic phrase wasn't a strong enough substitute. "Thank you."

JB joined her team and listened to the plan from Amos. Her unspoken duty seemed to be ensuing BaBay was protected and shielded. She checked her blaster first and then her two lightsabers next. She nodded that she was ready.

Jix

He nods, antennas bouncing. Rear guard he can do. His compound eyes give a widened scope to his vision. He doesn't consider it a lesser task. The team have to cover all flanks, working together to survive. He is ready to play his part.

GM

Lieutenant Bek dusts down his uniform once the teams are decided.

"I will stay in contact from the ship. The cryptics on our comlinks are secure but military grade, so only communicate between teams if absolutely necessary.

"I don't need to remind you what's at stake. We can do this. We have to."

The horizon is filled with a magnificent dust storm, billowing, swirling, yellow lightning flashing behind blurred sheets of rain. It's not heading in this direction but shows how rough the weather on this planet can get. Not a place to hang around.

As for J.B. and Sirra's pact, there must be a lot of data passing through GH-531. They should be able to learn something about a First Order Lieutenant Colonel Relnard and Captain Phasma... if she's still alive. (Finn and Rose were pretty sure she'd perished aboard the Supremacy.)

But Sirra knows Phasma has a survival instinct as strong as her own and puts no-one first before Phasma.

Bek salutes the team, shoulders his pack and turns for the ship.

Time to move out.

***

A upright metal post with two linked aerials and blinking red marker lights.

It stands alone, surrounded by open, gravelly flats.

Wait. In the distance, atop a ridge, another set of marker lights.

Perimeter sensors, about a kilometre out.

The First Order aren't taking any chances but they have not accounted for the severe tidal forces shifting the low-lying topography.

With your heads on a swivel and nerves screwed down, you crawl, scramble, and manouevre around the sensors. Slow going. The hardest part is the pressure of the countdown clock constantly pushing you to hurry the hell up.

If that isn't stressful enough, ahead of you await the First Order. Your mortal enemies. At least a platoon of Stormtroopers, probably two and more security.

Of course, looking back at the perimeter sensors you realise that you've passed the point of no return.



[Preach, Sirra, Winta go to CFH9s: Perimeter Breach]

[2BB-2, Amos, J.B., Jix go to CFH9m: The Race to the Base]