The Last Day of the Mandalorian War - The Mandalore System

[Dav Man'Sell]

[Ronan Starflare]

::ETA, five minutes people. Look alive.::



::Three minutes.::



::One.::



::Reversion!.::



"Fleet assessment?"

::All vessels accounted for: forty eight support cruisers, one hundred and thirty two corvettes, seventy seven frigates, sixty cruisers, eighty three heavy cruisers, eighty two Star Destroyers, eight battlecruisers, and one Super Star Destroyer.::

"Orleanna...I was referring to the enemy?"

::...Oh...Nothing larger than a Battlecruiser, but there's still lots of them.::

"That's something at least. Put the word out. Let's light this candle."

[Dav Man'Sell]

[Jago]

~ Streaks of bright, cerulean blue lanced out from the smoking maws of The Dragons: a cold, electrical fire that punched into the Mandalorian superfighters and left several of their number suddenly adrift in the wake of the freezing breath of these X-Wings. The Federation had learned quickly enough that while chewing through all that armor was an exercise in futility, the Bes'uliike still needed power like any other vehicle, and the magical iron of Mandalore was still not enough to turn aside a stream of ion fire. The twelve fighters quickly adjusted to their own opening salvo, following it up with projectiles that collided with engines and cockpits in a cascading concussion of orange blossoms. They were taking no chances this time - quick, clean victories, using tactics that had been learned in blood over the better part of a year.

Jago Pulastra wheeled his cloaked fighter around an unfortunate Mandalorian pilot whose craft had suddenly left his control. The same enemy soon left his senses entirely, and the White-Haired Wonder felt the calming presence of Dragon Six replacing it, the formation tightening up once again. The unison was holo-perfect: a simulation could not have flown as smoothly through the first stream of fire. The team had been ready for this for a long time, far longer than any of them would dare to admit aloud. Jago couldn't fault such thinking - ever since the first day, he knew it would come to this. To a final battle, a final hell to put this war back into the past where they all belonged.

First sweep is clear ... other Wings are doing well it seems, he thought to himself, sparing a glance away from his nose and to the flashes of color now beginning to dim the stars all around them. Other Jedi pilots were in the struggle, some of them even equipped with the older, yet-still-advanced T69 that Dragon Squadron was flying at the beginning of the war. And beyond that, hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds of other pilots, arrayed in vast Wings, all rushing into the spearhead. Some were recent additions, picked up by the Task Force on the way to this damnable Star System. Others had been fighting alongside the Jedi Order since the beginning: Jago was sure he had spied the markings of Champion Squadron in the hangar before they launched.

That hammer of snubfighters, strikecraft, and bombers now hurled themselves at the Mandalorian vanguard, riding just behind the exhaust trails of the Dragons as they cut their way through the perimeter. The twelve, elite pilots from Yavin burned through another wave of fighters, this time a supporting element of Gladiators. Then again, they cut down a flight of modified Preybirds, causing Jago to wonder where the Mandalorians even acquired such ancient fighters.

They must be desperate. Of course they are - we threw everything and the 'fresher sink at them when they came for our home, too.

While Jago could appreciate the situation his foes found themselves in, he reminded himself coolly that when they invaded Yavin, it had been completely and utterly unprovoked.



After the last of the 'birds was shot down in a lagging bank by Tebana Sor, the Dragons could fully account themselves as through the fighter screen. Their punch had left a few gaps in the defensive lines that Red Group and Blue Group were quickly rushing to fill in and expand, their Federation fighters meeting rabid resistance in the attempt. Jago almost considered rushing off to assist them, but that wouldn't have been wise: they had a job to do, and he had to trust that the pilots of the GFFA could handle themselves.

<< We're through >> Dragon Five mentally sighed in relief, the stealth systems of the T72 protecting the squadron from any easy rebuttal. It was not like Jago to shy away from a dogfight, but he knew that their assignment today was more complex than just "Hunt Starfighters". However, the dozen Dragons now found themselves ahead of their own lines and staring a massive fleet in the face, the capital ships already warming up their turbolasers and missile banks.

Space was about to become a valuable commodity once it was filled with superheated plasma and explosive warheads from all sides.

<< Flight Two, with me >> Jago signaled through the Battle Meld, letting his perceptions brush against the thoughts of Lita, Zuli, and Tyrand. They lingered momentarily against Dragon Six, as was his wont - she had come a long, long way from the rain-soaked jungles of the Fourth Moon. Now, she was by his side as they prepared to put a stop to all this senseless bloodshed once and for all.

Jago banked his fighter away from the other elements of Dragon Squadron, his IFF sorting through data of all the vessels ahead of him. He swapped targets rhythmically, his hands barely paying attention even as his mind knew where he needed to be both in and outside of the cockpit.

There.

The biggest one on the lot, of course. Heavily shielded, heavily armed, and prepared to drag as many Federation ships down with her as she possibly could.

Jago Pulastra expected little else from the Command Ship of Ashrah Intalbo, current Mand'alor of The Clans. Wordlessly, he opened his throttle and sped off for it.~

[Tyrand Khalek]

They really are desperate, aren't they?

[Ton Phedi]

The little shiny dome of the Astromech spins around, the telescopic visual sensor taking in the vast spectacle around him. Athree had never seen this many ships in one location before. It was a little too much for his sensors to comprehend. And that was saying a lot. The craziness this droid had witnessed since falling into the hands of a Jedi would have fried the processors of a lesser droid. Oddly enough, Arthree seemed to revel in it. A trait he shared with his Master. They both seemed to find enjoyment in getting themselves into trouble. Clouds of red and orange suddenly engulf the droid, the fighter holding him blasting through the remains of a splintered Bes'uliik. An angry warble erupts from the droid, only to be met by a low chuckle from the Jedi he was stuck to.

"Oh shut up... Cry baby."

Despite his comment, Ton gently nods to himself, gripping his flight stick a little tighter, and rolls. The fighter lifts up and rolls over another former Bes'uliik, this time being sure to allow some proper clearance. Although he'd joke about it later, they needed to look after each other as much as possible. They all did. And for that reason, Ton was just a little bit more tense in this situation than usual. Not because of the nature of this attack, but because of his current role. Taking the Lead of Flight Three, Ton was responsible for those in the Flight. Of course, he'd done that before, but now, in this situation, their role was to cover the attacking Flights as they made they're run towards the targeted command ships. Ton was generally more comfortable watching his own back, to think he had to look out for (by his reckoning) twelve other fighters made him a little nervous. The small pit in his stomach gnawing at him seemed to grow.

"...Such a drag."

The cloaked T72 opens fire on a fighter ahead of them, the ion blasts ripping through the engines and forcing the strengthened hull to burst outward from the inside. Ton had always favoured ion weapons, he was glad to now have one mounted to the newly worked X-Wings. He had to admit, Dav had really outdone himself with these fighters. When Dav came to him with his plans, he initially pegged him as being a bit ambitious. To not only get a solid prototype working, but a full Sqaudron to boot? Ton was impressed. Though he'd never inflate Dav's ego by admitting that. Besides, watching the cloaked fighters tearing through the enemy fighters, Ton had a feeling Dav already knew of the accomplishment he'd achieved.

The four fighters that made up Flight Three hang back slightly, not that any outside force would ever notice. Ton's eyes dart from left to right, watching from out of his cockpit and quickly checking the reading on his sensors. He could sense the first two Flights of Dragon Squadron begin to split up, having cleared a funnel through the enemy. However, in doing so, they'd drawn attention to themselves. Dozens of enemy fighters were now cascading into the void Dragon Squadron had cleared out. And not only that, they were turning inward, pursuing the offending fighters as best they were able. A smirk comes across Ton's face. So predictable. The Mandalorian's were gutsy, strong willed. And admittedly, tactically advanced. But under pressure, when they really started sweating, they crumpled. Their rage took control. They'd start throwing blind punches.

::Alright Three. Just like we trained. Let's clear 'em out. Take out as many as you can until we get relief from the other Squadrons. Pick your targets. On my mark.::

Ton could sense Joshua bank up behind him, Kobi not far behind him. He gently nudges at Mikal through the battle meld, encouraging him to catch up. Flight One and Two had to focus on the attack. They had to deal with what was in front of them. Flight Three was to ensure they had nothing to worry about from behind. Stop the counter attack, and pick off any stranglers until relief showed up. The four StealthX fighters bank up together, spreading out into a standard attack V-formation, hidden from the enemy. The enemy lines were moving fast to pursue the flights that had struck them so heavily. Ton waits for as many to clear in as possible. A grin comes across his lips, his knuckles white on his flight stick.

::Fire!::

Bolts of red and blue are flung from Flight Three, lurching at the unsuspecting enemy. They had no time to react, the enemy starfighters being struck hard by the second wave of Dragon Squadron. Once again orange light coated the battlefield, smoke and ashes bursting from the Mandalorian ships. The waves of fire continue as Dragon Squadron's rear guard continues it's pressing attack, the fighters moving in and sweeping through the enemy ranks like a knife through butter. Any seconds they could buy here would give First and Second Flight a hell of a fighting chance, hopefully preventing an overwhelming counter attack.

As Ton's X-wing barrels through a cloud of red ruptured fighter, Arthree warbles at him angrily.

[Joshua Kierra-Solo]

[Corr Vhett]

"Ke'mot te nari bat te eso..."




"Duumir te petir bah trattok'or a taylir te eso muun."






"Jorurr te arasuum'la bah ni, ni ade, bid ni liser cinarin'la te oyul be val kyorar."




"Ah, te Jetii alorir te jurkad. Haaranovore norac'be val gota'se as birov as val haaranovor norac'be val vutyc hodar...."




"Al'verde?"



"Can'gal be veeray rayshe'a bah shaadlar norac bal gotal'ur val dha'haase ehn'eta klicks norac'be te briik."




"Naumiit te Adenn. Kaysh bah tracyn an besbe'tracyn kaysh liser jorir at te briik veeray rayshe'a. Jetii'kad dajun."




"A jate vod... Ibac ret naritir cuun can'gal briik be tracyn."




"Ori'bid, ner ad. Gar ganar gar ke'gyce."




"May'eyir Ashrah."

[Artus Varad]

I joined this war of Ashrah and Corr's for the chance to test myself in battle against some of the finest warriors of our lifetimes. And combat against these Jetii has been some of the most exhilarating of my life. But the longer this has gone on, the more this has seemed folly. The joy of combat and the glory of victory is one thing, but Intalbo is an obsessive gloryhound, and Vhett...



Meanwhile, there's a battle to fight.



"Din'kartay."





"An besbe'trayce jate. Arana'tolase shal olan b'olan. An verde tsikala."



"Ke'gyce teh Alor Vhett. Petir bah trattok'or norac. Mhi'cuy bah taylir taap."




"Ah, bid kaysh vaabir kar'taylir meg kaysh cuy vaabir, venji'an"




"Taylir. Tsikador jurkad bat aur'e eso. Naumiit can'gal bah taylir par tome be'senaar nynir."




"Ret mhi liser parjir ibic. Shi ret."

[Ronan Starflare]

"They mean to encircle us."



::Shield and Guardian groups, angle to port, rally behind ships Vanguard and Faraday. Defender and Advocator groups, angle starboard behind cruisers Endurance and Praetorian. All ahead forward, charge the center of the new lines.::



::Bomber elements are to weaken the outer flanks of the new lines, Ell-Arr-Tee enabled ships the inner flanks.::



<<Kam, I need a favor...>>