… to end report. Operations with Bravo Company of the 121st have proceeded as planned. All operations run smoothly with casualties never straying above acceptable mission parametres. Mission brief for Operation #2142.5 will commence at 1200HRS Coruscant time. It will once again be re-iterated to all squad leaders that ‘callsigns’ or ‘nicknames’ are against protocol and that surnames, rank or serial numbers are to be used at all times.

Next report scheduled for 0830HRS tomorrow. KT-124 signing off.

---

The stars were silent as an Imperial warship, Tempest, hovered calmly above the ruined world of Lotho Minor. A pair of TIE fighters rocketed over the horizon, making their way back to the orbiting vessel as they finished their routine patrol around the world having discovered no anomalies in the space around the colossal collective trash heap. The planet was covered with junk and trash accumulated from all over the galaxy where it was simply dumped on the surface. Toxic sludge mountains of garbage rose high into the skies of the planet, as disgusting stench filled fog made visibility difficult on the surface. But the great Galactic Empire has made use Lotho Minor, establishing a facility designed to collect any useful metals scavenged from the trash filled world.

Inside the Tempest, boots of Stormtroopers sounded against the floor of the starship as activity filled the halls. This was the home of two hundred of the 121st Stormtrooper Battalions finest. Some troopers went through routine training, keeping themselves in top shape and form. Others chatted amongst themselves, strong brotherhoods and bonds established between many of the soldiers. In the deeper inner workings of the ship, within the conference room gathered the various squad leaders of Bravo Company seated around a table. Each of them had their helmets off, awaiting the briefing they had been summoned for by the ranking officer aboard the Tempest.

Sergeant Kavis Vytuia sat silently in one seat, grasping a cup of water between his hands though he was otherwise motionless. Around him some of his fellow Stormtroopers made idle chitchat, killing time until their Captain made her entrance and their briefing began. Kavis lifted the cup gently to his lips, and took a long sip. As he set the cup down his hand scratched his stubble covered chin, his thoughts were of his family. It had been almost eight months since he had last seen his son Kylain, and his wife Wina. It wouldn’t be long until he would get to see their faces, lift his son up in his arms and hug Wina tight. But for now duty was the most important thing, they were orbiting this filthy junk world for a reason.

Captain Loretta Raidne walked into the room. Uniform crisp and ironed. Boots shone black in stark contrast to that of the white stormtroopers. She wore the white shirt of an ISB Officer, black trousers creased perfectly as they should be and her hair flat and straightened to perfection. She wasn’t oblivious to the whisperings and the looks she received on behalf of her looks, she merely had no interest in anything anyone aboard the Tempest had to offer.

Loretta's first command the Tempest wasn’t the most impressive ship of the line. A Vigil-Class Corvette it was the smallest vessel created by Kuat Drive Yards that was part of the Imperial Star Destroyer family. 255 Metres long, but armed to the teeth for her size. She had to be glad for it however, not every ISB officer got a command so early on in their career, let alone a command of their own ship and detachment of Stormtroopers. She looked out on the junk infested world of Lotho Minor. Thousands of years of junk had been dropped onto the planet, making it an inhospitable wasteland.

Vast machines crawled the surface burning down the junk, and it was the brainchild of some Imperial analyst that there had to be valuable resources somewhere on the planet. A facility had been constructed, piles of junk sorted and burnt down into resources that the Empire could use to further its expansion and solidify its hold on the galaxy. Turning from the viewport Loretta paced out of the bridge. Upon leaving the room her escort made a move to join her and she waved them dismissively. Unlike some higher echelon individuals she didn’t feel the need to be `guarded` on her own ship. To do so would convey weakness, and her guards knew this. Datapad secured under her arm, she inserted her keycode to the briefing room and walked in. Instantly troopers stood at attention.

“At ease.” There was the sound of rustling as they all returned to their seats.

“You’ve all read Mission Dossier number two-one-four-two point five. So I won’t bother you with the intricacies of the mission again. Lieutenant Stanza has failed to report in for four rotations. Initially this was believed to be a communication error however we are still receiving automated signals from the relays in orbit. Our job is simple, we’re going to deploy on the surface and secure the facility. After that is done we’ll bring the facility online while reinforcements arrive to take responsibility for the facility. First Platoon will lead the way.” She nodded her head over at Second Lieutenant Quee. Since Bravo Company's inception of the 121st there had been no position with a higher turnover than that of first platoon lead. Loretta merely hoped that this one would last a bit longer than the previous one. “Followed by second and third. Fourth will remain aboard ship as a reserve.” She nodded to Major Shep. A grizzled looking woman, butch and built like most of the men in the room.

Major Shep being the official Company Commander, despite it being attached to Loretta and her `task force` if it could be considered such a thing. Shep took a step forward, taking over the central podium as Loretta backed off. Clearing her throat. “Now listen up shinies…”

As the commanding Major Shep gave her pep talk, the assembled squad leaders listened, fires lighting up in their eyes. She also detailed a brief plan of battle, Kavis’ and his soldiers would deploy to the south of the facility, moving with haste and smoothness in order to secure it no matter the situation was down there. The sergeant didn’t know what knocked the base out of communications. The natives to Lotho Minor were filthy, nomadic beings who stayed out of the way of Imperials’ operations on the world. He wasn’t sure they would be able to take over a fortified Imperial facility but he wasn’t discounting anything. Still, he had a bad feeling in the back of his head about this mission, but shook that away as simply pre mision jitters.

Kavis knew his squad was good, damn good for just about any operation handed to them by command. He wasn’t going to be frightened by some junk thrifters, even if they had decided to organize a revolt against the Empire. They’d pay dearly if that was the case. Of course there were other potential explanations, Slavers were one, they were all too common in the Outer Rim. But they normally weren’t stupid enough to tangle head on with Imperial forces, especially not a base on such a disgusting, unappealing world. He knew whatever they faced down there they would easily crush and move on. He didn’t want to spend too much time down there, on that filthy little junk heap.

Then the squad leaders were dismissed, their meeting finished. Each of the troopers rose to their feet and left the room, Kavis was one of them. He pushed his chair in, then quickly cracked his neck and stretched. He exited the room behind a chatting group of his fellow sergeants, then turned down the hallway. Kavis slipped his helmet on, then after ensuring it was on securly he reached activated his communicator, speaking to his squad.

“Alright troopers, I need you each ready and willing, then assembled in the hangar, we have a mission to go on.”

The first person Callus had made a point to befriend was the Quartermaster when he was assigned to The Tempest. It wasn't to get free handouts or specialized equipment, but instead to gain access to the tools required to keep himself busy. It would be no surprise, then, that SN-7739 was found at the work-bench in the armory, repairing a broken E-11. The firing mechanism had become jammed in combat, and led to the death of the individual who was responsible for it. The weapon and armor had been recovered by a clean-up crew to ensure scavengers didn't get a hold of it. But here Callus was, his helmet off as he carefully inspected the deconstructed blaster. A smile spread across his lips as he noticed the issue, using a set of forceps to gently pull one of the delicate pins holding the trigger together back. Orson lifted up the base grip and trigger of the blaster, pulling back the trigger with ease as it felt good as new.

It took less than a minute to fix the blaster back together, and only a minute longer to place the blaster back into its rightful position in the armory and make his way to the Quartermaster's datapad to update his logs. Before leaving the armory, SN-7739 placed his helmet on as he slipped out of the armory and began making his way back to the barracks. That is, until he heard the familiar voice of his squad leader buzz in through his comms. He gave a nod of his head at the orders, and found his way to his own personal locker to fetch his weapons. It felt incredibly routine, just another basic set of procedures and protocol the Empire loved. But there was a cathartic nature to everything as he made his way into the hangar. His appearance was clearly one of an engineer, the plasma cutter strapped to his back and tools hanging from his belt signifying his role as he reached the shuttle.

Despite how standard things seemed so far, there was something nagging at the back of Orson's mind. To some small extent, he knew what it was. He just didn't want to admit it.

This planet feels too much like home.

---

---

A burst of static covered the screen like a field of jagged, broken light. It's steady, stabbing rhythm lasted for no more than a second as it transitioned harshly into a black screen, the day's date marking the middle in large, blocky letters. The darkness receded slowly, revealing a poorly lit, tightly cramped room, and a man seated far too close to the camera.

"Shamech talcu."

Though spoken in little more than a gentle whisper, the voice seemed to rumble with the depth of an ocean trench and the barely constrained power of a thunderstorm. The audio cut, a burst of crumbled static cutting off the next few words he spoke before it came rumbling back in like a runaway starfreighter. It was exactly the sort of voice one would expect to come from the brawny behemoth with a rigid, aggressive jawline and shoulders broad enough to carry a Bantha on. Even underneath the plastoid white armor of a Stormtrooper, one could make out that he was a powerfully-built individual.

"I apologize for how long it's been since my last message, but things have been...chaotic, recently." Fat, tired bags hung underneath brilliant ruby eyes, emphasizing the exhaustion that permeated his words. He forced a smile, long lines stretching across his face as he glanced above the camera. His brow furrowed, a hand reaching up into frame. It fumbled with something, sending the screen into a violent, shaky mess. "Is this even on?" The voice growled, the rest of his mumbling cut off by the booming sound of his hand slapping against the side of the cam. After seemingly determining that it was, in fact on, he returned to his seat- which looked to be no more than an overturned container inside of a tightly packed sanitation closet.

"Right, where was I?" He sighed, rubbing a great, meaty fist in his eye. He was quiet for a few moments while he tried to remember what he was talking about before. "Why I haven't recorded anything. That's right." He nodded, pulling himself back on track. "I was transferred away from my previous team. It was a last minute decision; this squad needed a spot filled and I was the one they chose to do it. It's not ideal if I'm honest with you- I was only just adjusting to the last bunch, and now I've got to start all over again." He sighed again, his gaze sharpening for just a moment; he remained still for several seconds until his expression began to relax.

"Once I have their trust, I'll begin sending footage with them back to you, father. Hopefully, they'll provide a better example of the Empire's finest than the last bunch." There was a brief glimmer of hope in his gaze, but it was struggling not to be choked out by the frustration and exhaustion that fought to hover in those crimson eyes. "If not, well-"

The man in the video cut himself off, his eyes darting out of frame. He leaned down, retrieving a bucket-shaped helmet from the floor and placing it upon his lap. It was beeping softly, a red light flashing to alert him of an incoming message. "-Apologies, father, it seems duty calls. I'll speak to you again shortly." He brought a fist up, balling his gloved hand tight. "May peace follow you wherever you may wander." He reached up back in front up of the camera, flicking it off- causing the screen to go dark in an instant.

Malik Skaya flipped his helmet around, staring down inside its dark interior. He had to turn it sideways to slip it on without getting it snagged on his nose. A chiming click sounded, informing him that he'd secured it in place. His ears were immediately greeted by the sound of his new sergeant's voice as he ordered the squad to assemble in the hangar bay. He spun around inside the closet, his gaze searching for-

There it is.

The black, sleek rifle he'd carried since his academy days was resting up against a shelf, alongside several canisters of unknown chemicals. He snatched it up, sliding it into his armor's holster before making for the door. 'Alright. Hangar bay. Hangar bay.' He went through his mental map of the Tempest, trying to remember where everything was from memory rather than relying on his HUD. Ignoring the pair of officers giving him the side eyes for popping out of the janitor's closet, Malik made his way down the hall at a quick march, intent on reaching the destination on time. He didn't want to be the last one to arrive; he hated that. It always felt like everyone stared at him when he did.

He was halfway there by the time he remembered that he needed his medical kit- since he was, in fact, a medic. Quietly reprimanding himself for his forgetfulness, he rushed back in the other direction toward the medbay at doubletime, thankful that the order to deploy meant he wouldn't be reprimanded for making such a rush. Skaya filled his pack with the standard allowed supply, logged it with the attendant, and started back toward the hangar bay- after making a brief stop at the armory for extra energy cells and flares.

By the time he'd arrived in the hangar, he was sure he'd be one of the last to arrive. It was some wonder, then, that he was only able to spot a single other member of first squad in the entire hangar. He pushed his way through the crowds of troopers, engineers and technicians that flooded the cavernous chamber, jogging up toward the armored Stormtrooper his HUD marked as 'SN-7739.'

"Uhm, hello-" Malik nodded, intent on introducing himself to his new squadmate. He had seen him around the bunks, and perhaps even spoke a few words to him, but he had yet to properly introduce himself to anyone except his ranking officer. Though he'd spoken the tongue for years now, basic was still difficult for Malik; it was so impossibly different from the native tongue of his people that he still had trouble coming off as stunted and overly formal at times. "Orson, right? My name is Malik. It is good to meet you."

Every ship in the galaxy had a weight room. It was one of the general norms for ships that carried stormtroopers or other infantry type formations aboard. The Generals and Colonels desired their troopers to be a solid mass of muscle. Maintaining that strength required a plethora of heavy weights being raised and lowered repeatedly several times a day. Today, was leg, back and shoulder day for Trooper Okoye. He had been physically fit since his days working his father’s farm and playing sports on Haruun Kal, but now, aboard ship, his duties required him to stay physically and mentally sharp.

The Platoon Leader, Lieutenant Quee and his Squad leader, Sergeant Vytuia trained the members of first squad as well as the rest of first platoon on various collective tasks including assault, defense, moving as a member of a rifle squad, react to ambush, react to contact and several other mission specific tasks.

After safely lowering the stack of weights, Kato stood up from the lat pulldown machine, reaching for his towel. He wiped the sweat off himself and the machine, then grabbed for his water bottle. He drank a long tug on the aluminum bottle and headed to the head. Aboard ship, it was called the head and on garrison assignments, the latrine.

After the workout, he took a quick shower and dressed in his duty uniform. He secured each piece of armor insuring it was meticulously white in appearance. His armor would be the whitest most brilliant armor in formation. Just as he was attaching his helmet to his head he heard the clicks and saw the lights flashing indicating a message was forthcoming. It may have been held up in a queue for a bit but was available for him to listen to now. He recognized his squad leader’s voice utter, “alright troopers, I need you each ready and willing, then assembled in the hangar, we have a mission.”

A sense of urgency lit a fire under Trooper Okoye. He rushed to the arms room to pick up his T-21 light repeating blaster, SE-14r light repeating blaster, four Thermal detonators and an ammo bandoleer containing additional energy cells for his LRB. He pulled the heavy weapon, which wasn’t exactly light over his left shoulder so it hung under his right arm. He stowed the bandoleer under the LRB and the thermal detonators in a butt pack. His pistol had a tactical holster on his right thigh. He then made his way to the hangar.

Upon arriving he could see the four platoons forming up. His First platoon, with Lieutenant Quee standing in front were slowly gathering together. There were just over two hundred soldiers in the company with roughly fifty soldiers in each of the four platoons. Each platoon numbered five squads with eight to ten men per squad. First Squad had eight soldiers after losing troopers in their previous operation. As he approached the platoon formation he recognized Sergeant Vytuia giving a quick bow of his head as he uttered a curt greeting, “Sergeant.” He then stood next to Callus Orson, “Hey Docter Fix It! What kind of mess are we getting into this time?” He spoke quietly so as not to draw too much attention to himself. Then looked at the other member of First squad who had arrived. “Hi! I am Kato. What’s your name?” He was addressing Malik Skaya who apparently, he was meeting for the first time. “You must be one of the new replacements?”

"Fire one, two, three, four, five. Pause for five. Fire one, two, three, four, five..." The fire drill ran through Bradlev's head as he sat at the firing range, his T-21 deployed on its bipod as he sent shots hurtling down range, attempting to place shots on various moving targets. This firing drill was something Bradlev had heavily trained with since its introduction to him by his squad leader. Bradlev's fellow LRB gunner, the comrade-in-arms he knew as Knockout, had been taught the same drill, and effective usage of it had becomes something of a competition between the two gunners. As Bradlev fired down range, he found himself smirking a bit as he brought down some of the more difficult targets in a single burst.

While Bradlev continued the drill, the voice of 'Swoop', Sergeant Kavis Vytuia, came in over the comms of Bradlev's helmet. Informing the squad that they were to assemble in the hanger and be ready for deployment. With that, Bradlev set about gathering his things from among his makeshit gunner's nest at the firing range before making his way to the hanger.

Bradlev didn't know much about the planet they were in orbit, and he didn't rightly care to know either. It was some kind of trash disposal world, and he knew the Empire held an outpost there for gathering potential raw materials from among the garbage, but beyond that he felt it didn't matter. All that did matter was that his unit gets in, do their jobs, and get out intact.

Stepping into the hanger, he saw that much of the squad was already assembled and standing in formation. Moving to take his place, he'd offer a curt nod and a polite "Sergeant." to his squad leader, before taking his place in the unit. Taking a place in the formation next to Aysié, on the opposite side as Kato, he'd offer a quick nod to the others in the squad that had assembled, before snapping into place properly and standing quietly, awaiting further instruction.

Clean.

A long time ago, Tyroch had been a filthy person, always unclean, always on spice or drunk or something bad. He'd had no concept of organization or structure in his life, just of when the next dose of Indigo would come.

Tyroch sniffed as he stared at the nearest wall. Those had been bad times, but they were so distant now. He felt comfortable on this giant slab of carefully designed machinery. That was another thing he liked about the Empire; their sense of... style, almost. Clean cut, uniform, not a hair out of place. Just the way Tyroch tried to keep himself. He had always flourished in urban environments, not that he didn't know how to handle a less uniform landscape. He felt similarly about ships, carefully maintained and graceful, at least in his eyes. Lotho Minor, on the other hand...

Tyroch stood up and started fixing his bunk. Earlier he had cleaned his weapon and shaved, so that was taken care of. His armor was still shining clean - though he himself was no shiny, no sir - and he wasn't hungry (or maybe he was, sometimes he didn't really notice). And as far as Tyroch knew, he had no orders at the moment. Maybe he could go... throw darts, or... something. Tyroch sighed. What he wanted was to serve the Empire, not to sit on one of its ships and stare at the stars. That's why he joined the stormtrooper corps.

Maybe he would just walk around a bit. Patrol. Make sure the armory had no rebels in it, or something like that. Tyroch stood, placing his helmet on his head just as a communique came through. "Alright troopers, I need you each ready and willing, then assembled in the hangar, we have a mission.” Tyroch sighed - but a happy sort of sigh - and began his walk to the hangar.

By the time he got there, making a stop to pick up his blaster, it turned out that practically everyone had turned up. Tyroch silently cursed - how did someone like himself end up late? - but took his place in formation. He stood silent. Most of these people he knew, except for one. He resisted the urge to question the new guy and talk to the rest of the crew (usually he addressed them by number, at least until they made a point to call them by something else). There wasn't a need for chatter at this moment. There was a mission coming up, and Tyroch was ready.

---

Boring. The only word that summed up Corros' day so far, and it was barely even noon. He had been awake since before anyone else in the squad, as was normally the way; he hadn't adjusted well to life aboard the Tempest so far. It was strange, a far cry from his family's cosy home in Lothal City or the dorms of the Academy. Those dorms didn't float around in space, for one. New surroundings always seemed to put Corros on edge at first, and this time the mixed feelings of homesickness and excitement were playing havoc with his sleeping pattern. It wasn't that Corros didn't feel comfortable here, nor that he was particularly stressed or worried about anything, but he just couldn't sleep. Instead of staying in bed this morning and trying to squeeze out every second he could, he'd got in the gym early, spending an hour and a half working through his usual circuits before the first meal of the day. After that he decided he wasn't in any mood to do anything too strenuous, especially with the squad expecting their deployment orders at some point today.

In truth that was the only productive thing he had done all day. He'd eaten with the squad in the morning, at a time where everyone is usually still tired and wishing they were in bed. He'd walked a lap of the ship just to kill time and familiarize himself a bit more. Corros was an expert when it came to procrastination. He had visited the armoury to make sure all of his equipment was where it should be, and then revisited again an hour later just to double check no one had moved it while he wasn't there. He'd managed to spend 10 minutes alone just decided to not clean his armour, having examined every plate thoroughly, before deciding it was in fact dirty, but not that dirty. Mostly, though, he was just thinking. He always did it, he'd think about anything and his mind would wander and before he knew it half an hour was gone just spent thinking. He thought of home, of his smiling sisters and proud parents. He thought of the world below, Lotho Minor, about its people and their lives and about what would happen when they got down there. And through it all, the young man from Lothal just couldn't stop thinking about how damned bored he was.

So the order to assemble was a welcome one. And it came much earlier than expected, a pleasant surprise for a man that would have just carried on wasting time if it hadn't. He was on his way back to the squad's bunkroom when the order came in, but like lightning he turned on his heels and set off the other way, fixing his helmet in place with a satisfying click. By the time he got there the armoury had been picked clean, and it certainly hadn't been so empty earlier. Which meant only one thing. Almost everyone else was already in the hangar. Spurred on now by a new desire to not be the last one there this time, he grabbed his rifle and fixed it in place. The bandolier went next, sitting across his chest, black against the sheer white of his armour's chest plate. A large pack fixed onto its holding on his back, and to that clipped a Smart Rocket Launcher, and Corros' favourite piece of kit, an MPL-57 grenade launcher. It was hard to move anywhere in a hurry loaded down like this but Corros did his best, jogging through the corridors and cursing himself for putting too much emphasis on his legs in the gym today.

Surprise surprise; everyone was already there. The vast majority of the 200 stormtroopers aboard the Tempest were. 'It's always me,' he thought to himself as he looked around frantically, trying to work out where he should be. Corros was able to pick his squad out of the swelling crowd thanks to the HUD in his helmet kindly showing him everyone's serial number. He walked slowly and calmly, trying to make it seem as though he wasn't panicked at all, but realising only after that walking so slowly when he was already so late probably just made him look like an ass. He took his place at the end of the line without saying a word, trying to catch his breath a little after running with so much kit but doing his best to avoid breathing heavily. Like he needed to give anyone else a reason to give him grief. Standing in line, it was finally time to get excited. They were going down, to the surface of Lotho Minor. Why, Corros wasn't too sure, but he knew they'd all find out soon enough.

As the assembled squad of loyal Stormtroopers gathered around their leader, Sargent Vytuia glanced each of them over from beneath the visor of his helmet. He slowly paced, his feet silent as the squad leader began to speak. Around them other Stormtrooper squads moved around the hangar, many loading onto transports. Three of them were spread out, as soldiers loaded onto them. A few officers clad in their grey uniforms showing off their rank and authority held datapads as they hollered out orders and assigned squads to Lambda-class T-4a shuttles. Kavis and his soldiers stood in front of their assigned vessel, its back door opened as the empty seats awaited them. Inside a pilot flickered through switches, his hand gliding over panels and buttons as he checked to ensure the Lambda was ready for liftoff. The sargent gave the briefest of looks to the pilot from his position outside the shuttle, then finally spoke to his squad having made sure they were all in line and at attention.

"Well, I hope you all are ready for this mission, and don't have a sensitive sense of smell. I've heard it stinks worse than a dying bantha. Thank the Maker for olfactory filters in the helmets. Don't want any of you puking all over your armor." He stated, tapping the side of his helmet as he smirked underneath it. Pausing in his short stride.

Kavis tried to dash the tension with an ounce of humor, one could almost cut it with a knife as it hung within the hangar. None of the troopers knew what they were getting into down there, and neither did command exactly. The vague missions with inexact details were always the least fun ones. Though he didn't expect any of his soldiers to feel a sliver of fear, training had taught them to crush such feeling in favor of bravery and valor. They'd go in as they always did, a composed and concentrated team serving among the galaxy's finest soldiers. Some rebellious locals were nothing to the Empire's overwhelming force, anything else would pale in comparison as well. He glanced up at his soldiers once more, then barked an order.

"Load onto the shuttle, take a seat troopers. We got a short ride ahead of us." As he turned away from his soldiers and walked onto the transport.

His squad entered after him, seeming ready as ever. Kavis strolled towards the small cockpit of the Lambda, the pilot raising a single thumbs up towards him then shut the doors on the ship before it rose gently upwards off the floor of the hangar. As the shuttle slipped through the hangar's forcefield into the emptiness of outer space the transport shook slightly before steadying. It glided through the darkness, other identical Lambda shuttles alongside it as they all made a beeline for the filthy Lotho Minor. Through the windshield of the shuttle the planet's murky atmosphere could be seen as the Imperials approached. Kavis could practically smell the world from here. He blinked then returned to the back area of the ship, where his squad were waiting to land planetside. As he entered that part of the ship his eyes caught sight of various scattered numbers scratched into the walls and ceiling, previous stomtroopers who had called the shuttle briefly their home as it ferried them to their destinations.

"The plan is simple, troopers." Kavis spoke out loud as he stood in the center of the room, clicking some button on his wrist as a hologram shone displaying the Imperial base they were landing at. It was a large sized facility, three levels with sizeable storage. Its overall filled with many rooms and hallways. Large pipes and vents were evident on the sides, necessary to filter oxygen into the base.

"We will be landing on the south side of the base, then enter it from that side. Another squad, Charlie, will enter from the opposite side. Both our squads will sweep through, investigate and clear any hostiles. A third squad, Bravo, is repelling from above and breaching through the roof to secure the top floor. Several other Stormtrooper squads will deploy near a factory to the east of our base. Around that factory is a large field filled with scrap metal, machinery and ship parts. Our initial scans do not show any signs of enemy activity on the outside of the base, though there is no telling what awaits us on the inside. Watch your corners and expect hostiles."

"Be prepared to split into two squads, in this case Corporal Tapalo will take command of this second squad. Expect close quarters and unpredictability inside that base. Whoever managed to make the base go silent is likely to still be holed up inside of it. We need to find out what happened down there. I want each and every one of you to impress me today. Are there any questions, concerns or suggestions?"

---

---

Little time was given to Skaya to speak with his squadmates, the chaos of deployment sweeping him up and forcing him into formation with the rest of the troopers. He fought to remain still and at attention, choking down the jittering in his hands. A thousand worries were running through his head even as Sergeant Vytuia tried to ease the tension they all no doubt felt. It didn't do much for Malik's nerves, his gaze flickering about the rest of the team.

He didn't know a single man that stood beside him. He didn't know which of them he could trust to have his back and which of them he needed to be weary of. The academy had beat it into Skaya's head that he needed to be able to have full confidence in each and every trooper in the Corps, but experience had taught him otherwise. This was his chance to make a good first impression and he had to do everything in his power to keep from screwing that up. In an effort to calm the storm in his soul he did as he had done since he was just a bo: he bowed his head and gave a silent prayer for protection and guidance.'Keep watch over me and stay my enemy's hand,' He thought, his jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering. 'give me either the strength to triumph over this foe or the will to pass into your presence with grace and honor.'

The sound of a hundred boots against steel rang out as they loaded into the transports. Malik slipped down into his chair and strapped himself in, his rifle laid out on his lap as he fought against the urge to bounce his leg. Anxiousness and excitement swirled about in tandem in his heart, sending waves of adrenaline coursing through him. This wasn't his first mission- far from it, in fact- but he could never shake that initial surge of emotions that came with stepping aboard the transports. Once he was seated and Vytuia began explaining the mission, however, Skaya's full attention shifted to his squad leader. He mulled over every word and considered every possibility, taking in the holographic map and committing it to memory- he needed to be able to successfully navigate the facility on the off chance that his Heads Up Display malfunctioned.

Once the time came for questions Malik cleared his throat, bringing up a hand to catch the sergeant's attention. "How important is it that the facility remains intact?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "Will we be able to use thermal detonators inside or should such destruction be avoided?"

The Lambda-class T-4a shuttle could carry roughly 20 combat troops from ship to shore or in this case, the surface of the trash heap known as Lotho Minor. The first and fourth squads or in some circles, Alpha and Delta squads loaded onto the same shuttle allowing for one platoon to use two shuttles to get their complement to the surface.

Kato took a seat near the rear ramp, ready to deploy his Light Repeating Blaster for rear security as soon as the vehicle landed, and the squad was prepared to deploy. There was no way of knowing what sort of reception the two squads would receive once they hit the deck.

Kato listened to Sergeant Vytuia detail the mission. Alpha squad would take lead from the south after deploying from the shuttle. The squad would split into two four-man teams with Sergeant Vytuia leading one team and Corporal Tapalo leading the second team. Usually, in this configuration, Kato would serve as the LRB guner for Tapalo’s team. But knowing the sergeant likes to change things up he asked the question, “Sergeant, will I be with Corporal Tapalo on this one too?”

Sergeant Vytuia continued with the Operations brief. The third squad or charlie squad would assault the complex from the north and the second squad or bravo squad will insert onto the roof of the complex and clear from the top down. The best way to take a building is from the top down, that is tactically the best. By having a stronger force clearing from the bottom up, as in this situation, it will force the hostiles to move up, attempting to seek refuge, but would simply run into the platoon’s Bravo squad setting in hasty ambushes on the top floor. The Delta squad riding shotgun with our Alpha squad was obviously the platoon’s reserve and was prepared to assume our mission if something tragic were to happen. They could also lend fire support if we came under heavy fire inside.

The platoon would then clear the building room by room, floor by floor until all enemy combatants were either eliminated or rendered ineffective. It would be a slow process with Kato and Trooper 2323 (aka Bradlev) providing overwatch or cover in the corridors and open areas as the remainder of their respective teams cleared the rooms.

Kato listened to Malik’s question, knowing they’d used thermal detonators a number of times for room clearing. Toss a detonator inside, it goes off killing or injuring the occupants and then rapidly enter firing at any survivors inside. Painless for the attackers. Sometimes a hand thrown device that created a blinding flash and high volume explosion was all that was needed to disrupt the enemy’s ability to fight back. Kato was ready for this fight. He cradled his LRB between his knees, butt plate on the deck as he listened to the squad sergeant and ran through his mind what his job would be. Cover.

Callus stood silently, turning his head to watch his squad falling into line. A few chose to address him, but something about the general atmosphere in the hangar and the incessant need for officers to stress the lack of individuality drove Fixer to remain silent. He did give a nod in acknowledgement when his squad mates asked him a question. It only took a few moments for Sergeant Vytuia to arrive and the formation to follow into the shuttle.

Orson, upon taking his seat, seemed almost robotic as he placed his plasma cutter underneath the seat, activating a small magnetic strip to secure it to the floor of the shuttle. He then went through his final mechanical check on his utility belt, ensuring that everything was in its proper place. As he was told at the academy, having his equipment in the proper place could be the different between life and death. So once everything was where it belonged, Callus Orson fastened himself into his seat and turned his attention to his commanding officer.

The mission seemed like standard procedure. Lotho Minor seemed far from important or strategic, but the Empire hated the thought of rebel activity more than anything else. Though the assignment did provide Callus with a potential challenge: the rebels could have overridden Imperial control of the facility. Doors could be manually locked, the facility itself could be damaged... Callus could actually do something beyond snuffing out illegal activity.

Regardless, protocol for the mission was a priority for Callus. He wanted to know what set of procedures to follow if this was a worst-case scenario and not just an accident. Once a few of his squad mates asked their questions, Callus threw his own into the mix. "Is the system compromised? And if we are locked out, is the plan to slice or breach?"

Loretta sat in the rear seat of the AT-DP as the ship shook slightly as it broke through the atmosphere, a red streak tearing through the sky. The shuttles had already left the hangar before the ship started to descend into orbit, breaking off in three separate directions as they headed towards their respective landing sites. The Tempest itself would land just out of range of the compounds anti-air cannons in a clearing that it had created with it's turbolasers while in orbit. The Commander had disapproved of that tactic, claiming that to do so would alert the enemy to their presence and they should simply land further out. Loretta had quickly remanded him, reminding him that if their base was occupied that their enemy would have all the required equipment to see them sitting in orbit. The use of turbolasers to clear the surface for landing, destroying possible salvage should make their position on what was going on quite clear.

Activating her computer Loretta checked the uplink to the other two walkers, the Tempest only carried three. A single AT-DP and two lighter, newer, AT-STs. She kept the AT-DP as the command vehicle, it may be slower than the ST model but it was more heavily armoured, and more heavily armed. A suitable vehicle for being kept at the rear of the formation, whereas it would be tactically ineffective to have an AT-ST at the rear. When they were able to engage quickly, and move around light fire more effecitvely. The pilot quietly worked through his readiness checklist, the walker whining as it came to life beneath her. Loretta draw up the live action map of the action, watching as the shuttles moved in closer to their position. Once the ship was down the walkers as well as the rest of the unit would begin to march to the compound, to either reinforce or replace the squads making initial contact.

---

Sergeant Vytuia ran over the plan while the squad took their seats in the shuttle. Corros swung his pack lazily off of his back as he fell into his seat, securing himself and holding his equipment upright between his knees. He resisted the chance to liken the stench of Lotho Minor to his own dear squadmates; as much as he enjoyed being a smart-ass, even Corros wasn't stupid enough to upset the people that he'd be dependent on in a few moments if things were to go south. Instead he did something he rarely ever did; he just shut up and listen. The plan seemed relatively simple. Land to the south, reach the building, clear the building, secure the building. Two more squads would do the same from the opposite side and the roof respectively. Corros couldn't tell what the Sergeant was thinking as he flashed up a holographic map. His face was calm, which was reassuring, but then again, even if they were about to jump out of the shuttle straight down a saralcc's throat, Sergeant Vytuia would look like he was on his way to dinner.

The devil was in the detail, or more accurately, the complete lack of it. Situations like this always made Corros nervous. Even just being told they had to be ready to split into squads, without designating them, left room for confusion that could cost someone their life under the wrong circumstances. They had no real intel on why the facility had gone dark, and no idea who may be responsible. Their scans had shown no signs of activity on the outside, but it didn't take a genius to know that this was not any form of reassurance at all. It could have been a number of things, from unhappy locals, to rebellions, to a horrific industrial accident. For the whole facility to go dark just like that, it had to be something pretty major. The thought of it made Corros shift in his seat, and for a moment he thanked his helmet for masking his probably very concerned-looking face.

When the Sarge was done talking, he opened the floor for questions. The new guy, Malik Skaya, spoke up first. "How important is it that the facility remains intact? Will we be able to use thermal detonators inside or should such destruction be avoided?" It was an important question, and the main one that Corros had been wondering too. He always felt safer with a Smart Rocket at his disposal to bail him out but if they were under instruction to keep the facility intact, which was most likely, he may as well leave it on the shuttle and enjoy having a slightly lighter pack for once. Corros liked this guy, which was helpful considering he may well be smearing bacta on Corros' chest in the next few hours. He seemed switched on, and it took a certain confidence to speak up with questions first in a room full of complete strangers, no matter how drilled you were.

Callus asked a question along similar lines, about breaching vs slicing. Corros hoped it was breaching so that he hadn't hauled all these explosives from the armoury to the shuttle for no reason, but knew it was likely to be slicing, again in the interest of protecting the integrity of the Imperial facility and minimizing the cost of getting it up and running again. Corros didn't really have any questions himself. The only thing he wondered was what had caused it to go dark down there, and with any luck they'd find that out very soon. Besides, no one else knew either, so it was a pointless question to voice. Instead he held his tongue, fidgeting slightly in his seat as the shuttle ramp went up.

The shuttle soared towards the junk planet, the stars passing behind it in the distance as it drew nearer to breaking through the atmosphere. The Lambda shook slightly, as the assembled crew inside of the vessel conversed as Kavis went about answering any questions. The veteran stormtrooper was feeling very confident about the mission. As the tattooed newcomer Malik Skaya spoke up, raising an important question, Sergeant Vytuia pondered it briefly before answering as clearly as he could.

"Command has stated that they wish the facility to be kept largely intact, the Empire has put a lot of work into the base. Though they will not be too upset if some collateral damage is caused as long as it means the facility is cleared out and secured. Any minor damage can be repaired. Thermal detonators should not cause too much damage, provided they aren't thrown directly at important machinery." Kavis replied, he wouldn't hold his squad back from using explosives if it meant the base was taken back. As the next squad member, Private Orson spoke up, the sergeant turned his attention to him.

"We are more than likely going to be locked out of the base. Our reconnaissance of the area containing the base has shown zero signs of activity. Whoever is in there either locked themselves inside or hid outside of it," Kavis stated, the piles of junk and the lack of visibility on the world offered many possibilities for enemies to hide. "All communications to the base have failed, and it is likely we will have to breach our way inside, though once inside we should make it a priority to slice into the facility's systems in order to regain control and assess the situation further."

"Sergeant, we've breached through the atmosphere and are rapidly approaching the landing zone." The pilot exclaimed from the cockpit of the shuttle. The other Lambdas also broke through and were well on their way to making landfall on the world.

"Excellent to hear. They will not know what hit them. Let's give them hell, troopers!" Sergeant Vytuia said powerfully, closing the hologram and raising one fist upwards slightly as he rallied his soldiers.

---

Unbeknownst to the approaching Imperial forces signs of life stirred on Lotho Minor's surface, hidden visually by the disgusting smog which filled much of the world. Some of the inhabitants of the world who had knocked the Imperial base out of commission darted around the outside of the conquered compound. A cybernetically enhanced hand rose to the sky, pointing out the approaching shuttles rocketing directly towards them. The Junker seemed to holler in a strange, alien tongue, its form composed of reforged machinery, making it appear more machine than man.

In the Junker's other hand it clenched a blaster rifle, and flicked the safety off. Others of its species darted around, some setting up turrets and high powered blasters. A trio quickly began work on setting up a machine gun encampment at the top of a hill. They worked stunningly fast, the mechanically enhanced hybrid species were marvels when it came to machinery. They knew the Imperials would come eventually, and they had no intention of giving up the base.

As the first shuttle approached, carrying Charlie and Bravo squad, another Junker appeared from out of the rubble. Over its shoulder it carried a missile launcher, with a rapid motion of its hands the cybernetically enhanced being fired a single rocket towards the Lambda, kicking up dust as the explosive slammed out of the launcher. The rocket hurtled through the sky, tracking after the shuttle. The Imperial pilot flying the vessel attempted evasive maneuvers but to no avail.

"Come in, this is Shuttle B3 carrying two Stormtrooper squa-, we've been hit! Going dow-" A panicked voice exclaimed through the speakers inside the cockpit of the ship carrying Alpha squad. As it drew nearer to the surface the message became harder to understand and filled with more static. Kavis heard it, and turned his head suddenly. As he started to move towards the cabin their shuttle shook, sending him to the floor.

"We're under fire! B3 is down, I'm going to try to drop you all in there as quickly as possible." The pilot exclaimed, regaining control of his shuttle as it was under heavy blaster fire from the surface. The deflector shields absorbed the damage, though a more constant barrage would break through if the pilot was not careful. Thankfully the Empire only picked the best pilots.

Below them, the Junkers who had appeared on the surface outside the base focused their fire on the approaching shuttle. B3 careemed towards the surface, spinning and twisting as the pilot tried to land. The shuttle's shields had gone down from the direct hit of the rocket, The Junkers couldn't have asked for a better hit. More heavy blaster fire came its way from some Junkers on the other side of the base where the shuttle was heading downwards towards. Smoke began to seep from the vessel as it went down. The Lambda crashed to the surface, the pilot managing to steer into an open area. Still it skid across the ground, kicking up dirt and debris. It was likely troopers inside survived, though some causalities were likely due to the intensity of the landing.

"Almost there!" The pilot of Alpha squad's shuttle muttered, the ship still shaking heavily. Kavis managed to get to his feet, and forced himself into a seat. The pilot shouted loudly, tension evident on his features. "I'm not going to be able to drop you guys right near the base, still I can get you as close as I can."

Indeed he did, the Lambda going to the ground as gently as he could place it. As soon as the ship was down, the pilot hollered for them to get out as quickly as they could. Kavis was the first one to his feet, dashing towards the ramp as it opened up. They would be dropped right into a hot-zone, to the north was the base, on top of a hill. A turret was there, firing upon their shuttle. Though the thick haze which enveloped the surface made visibility difficult for the turret, and its shots weren't all landing.

They'd have to make their way across a short field, thankfully plentiful with positions to take cover. Whether it be rocks or scattered mechanical debris. Still, their enemies had a line of sight on them. A total of nine junkers were before them, including one manning the turret. Four set up on the hill, taking defensive positions. Another four made their way towards the shuttle, coming into view of Alpha squad as they all made their way out of the Lambda. Two of these four took up cover, planting themselves behind old machinery. Two more charged forward, going for a direct approach. To the squad's left was an almost mountain of machine scraps. As Kavis emerged from the shuttle he pointed one of his hands towards it, hollering through his in suit communicator.

"Tapalo get up there, you too Trawin, we're going to need suppressing fire on the hostiles. Everyone else move ahead, take cover and push forward steadily. The closer we go to the base the clearer shot that turret has of us. Don't get caught in its path." The sergeant ordered, then dove to take cover behind an ancient, rusted ship engine.

He fired upon the first Junker to appear in his sight, it flanked by another which both returned fire. The squad could hear more blaster fire nearby them, as the other Imperials landed and engaged the hostiles. The shuttle which had dropped them off rocketed towards the sky, escaping the battle as the Junkers were focused on the deployed Stormtroopers.

"Tempest, come in, this Sergeant Vytuia, KV - 4217, of the 1st Platoon, we are under heavy fire from the enemy. Making our way towards the base," Kavis stated into his comm link as he tried to communicate with the crew of the Tempest and give a status report. He only heard static as he spoke. "Those bastards must have set up a communications blocker somewhere nearby, I can't send anything to to Tempest. Another thing we'll need to take out."

---

---

The rear of the Lambda shook as it broke through Lothor Minor's atmosphere. Malik Skaya wrapped his fingers tighter around his E-11, his gaze kept firmly on the floor as he counted down the seconds until they made planetfall. The nerves he'd gotten simply entering the shuttle returned now, the prospect of rushing into a volley of blaster fire made his blood boil with anticipation and anxiety. Violence and bloodshed had plagued Aquellan culture since its dawn. It was bred into each and every one of them at birth; those who refused to fight were seen as oddities at best and damned cowards at worst.

Skaya had spent every day in the Corps proving again and again that he was the warrior his people expected him to be. This was just another chance to prove his mettle one more time.

A panicked voice drowning in static screamed out from the cockpit. Skaya was too far from that side of the shuttle to understand it, but the tone in the pilot's voice and the way the sergeant spun around made the medic's heart jump into his throat. 'Contact? Already?' He wondered, only for the enemy to confirm his suspicions by firing upon the shuttle. The entire vehicle gave a sudden and savage lurch, throwing the sergeant to the ground and slamming Malik's head forward. He would've gone tumbling out of his seat if not for the restraining straps that dug into his shoulders between the gaps in his armor plating.

"Zina." He cursed under his breath, clutching his service weapon to his chest like it was his only lifeline in the middle of a storm. That rifle was the only damn thing Malik knew he could rely on. It was the only thing that would keep him alive once that lift fell and he went dashing headfirst into enemy laser fire. Everything else was just noise. Screeching, violent noise as he counted down the agonizing seconds until the fighting began- or they were blown out of the sky before he ever got the chance to fire off a shot.

The shuttle touched down, crushing a mass of trash underneath its weight, the ramp beginning to fall but a moment later. Skaya unhooked his straps in one, quick motion, rising out of his seat to the tune of the devil's piano that the enemy was using to pepper their transport. A thick, noxious fog rammed against Malik's nostrils as he filed out behind Sergeant Vytuia, adrenaline racing through his system as he mentally steeled himself for what came next.

A flurry of heat passed mere inches from his head, the blaster bolt striking against the hull of the shuttle directly above him. Vytuia's voice played in his ear through his helmet's built-in radio even as Skaya made his mad dash for cover. A large, flat piece of metal half-buried in a mountain of junk looked to be his best bet. It was was one of the wings of a long defunct TIE Fighter, he guessed; not that where it came from mattered as much as its ability to absorb enemy fire. Malik slammed his shoulder up against the broken wing, several more blaster bolts flying passed him just as he disappeared behind it.

His first task was to crouch and peek, hoping to get a decent lay of the land before he decided the best course of action for taking the top of that hill. The first thing he noted was just how damned hard it was to pick out the natives from the terrain. They wore the same, drab browns and dirty grays that made up the junk and rock of Lothor Minor, allowing them to blend in even when they stood in plain view. There could be anywhere from five to twenty-five of them just on this hill and Skaya wouldn't know until they started shooting. The second thing he noted was just how aggressive they were. Even now, two of the bastards were running right at them with near-suicidal intent, like their lives didn't matter. Fanatacism, maybe? Or desperation?

Malik slid his scope up in front of his face, dragging it along the hillside. He counted out each individual muzzle flash he noticed, tallying them all up before moving the scope back over and double-checking his math. He popped up a shot whenever he thought he had a chance to land it, the E-11's stock smacking up against his shoulder with each gentle press of the trigger. Malik was no marksman, however, and the extraneous conditions on the field made his aim...questionable. "I count eight in total, including the gunner-" He started to speak over the comm, only for a blaster shot to fly right past his head and force him to duck into cover to avoid decapitation. That one came from somewhere else entirely. "Nine! Make that nine!"

The shuttle rocked and buffeted as it entered the atmosphere. The closer the vessel approached the surface, the more the rocking intensified. Blaster shots bounced off the protective shielding making the ride much more nauseating. Kato closed his eyes and thought about the ship in his mind. He focused on it traveling down to the trash heap below, settling relatively unmolested. The thought of dying before they even got into the fight concerned him. He wished the vehicle to the surface, and it was so.

Seated near the rear ramp, Kato stood in a crouched position with his Light Repeating Blaster pointed in the direction of the enemy upon touchdown. Another LRB gunner from the other squad occupied the seat opposite him. They waited for the ramp. As the ramp fell, Kato shuffled forward and dropped to the ground to his left. He began putting fire in the direction of the enemy as soon as he could. He stopped shooting while others scrambled off the ramp. He took time to extend the bipod legs on his weapon. During lulls in the movement of friendlies running across his line of fire, he worked between searching for enemy combatants and placing five to nine round bursts of aimed laser fire at them.

KL-3724 listened to radio traffic as he worked. He heard the recent arrival, an Aquellan warrior named Trooper Malik Skaya or KY-9914, yell out an enemy count. Kato counted for himself and came up with a correction. “I count twelve!” Kato yelled across the squad frequency. The number could be higher, but it was still dangerous. As the squads spread out across the area, their perspective of what was going on would vary.

The squad moved forward. As squad members took up fighting positions further forward, Trooper Okoye stood to advance, leaning into the fire, hoping with each burst that he would survive this ordeal. He never had time to think about how. When the sergeant briefed them on the operation, he did not expected the Junkers to put up this level of resistance outside the complex. He naively assumed the fight was going to remain indoors.

As he neared the majority of the squads deployed forward, he took a position on the left, quickly resuming his firing tempo of five to nine round bursts. After a few bursts, he recognized the sound of Trooper Trawin’s LRB further down the line. The distinctive sound of the T-21 resonated over the din of battle. He could discern its noise, hearing Trawin’s similar tempo of fire. He waited for Trawin to finish his burst, then called out his own five to nine round-burst. It was as though the two pigs were talking to each other over the calamitous noise of the firefight--two Imperial squads assaulting into the Junkers’ defensive position. KL-3724 could not see them, but two Imperial troopers perished on the ramp and a third corpse lay in an awkward disfigured tangle amongst the trash piles scattering the landscape.

At least they were on the ground and moving forward. That was good news.

@Superboy@Reedethe23rd

Callus gave a nod as his commanding officer responded to his question. The orders made sense, and seemed to follow the standard protocol. Slicing into the systems would be a piece of cake. Getting there... that apparently would be the difficult part. As the shuttle cut through to the hazy terrain, the sound of enemy blaster fire forced a sigh out of Orson. These missions were never that easy.

Everything he did from that point felt mechanical. Same as his squadmates, he removed his harness and clutched his weaponry in one fluid motion. He rushed out into the fray, a stray blaster bolt hitting the hull of the shuttle to his right. Orson made his way to cover almost immediately, his back pressing against a pile of junk. He peeked around the right of the pile, only to move his head back to avoid another bolt of blaster fire. He took a deep breath as he clutched his E-11 harder.

"No need to correct the fresh-blood's arithmetic, Knockout." Callus, as always, was playful over the comms. It was a simple defense mechanism when his life was on the line, and this wasn't exactly the safest situation. Callus deferred to the others in regards to pushing forward, firing small bursts of blaster fire where he could, only peeking out just enough to try and aim his fire at the junkers. Now wasn't the time for an engineer to shine: he was just focused on keeping his head down and supporting the squad.

@Gunther @Superboy

Trawin sat in the transport with his T-21 positioned upright between his knees, his hands firmly gripped around the wide barrel. Though to those observing him, he appeared to be sternly staring straight ahead, barely reacting to movement of the shuttle, even when it began to take fire from the surface below, inside his helmet his eyes were closed, and he was silently preparing himself for the battle ahead. He had no concerns about the shuttle surviving to land, he trusted the pilot to do their job as they had been trained, just like he trusted the others to do theirs. He had no control over the rocking craft, so it made no sense to worry about 'what ifs' regarding its descent. All that mattered was being ready to put his boots on the ground and get into action.

When the shuttle hit dirt, or what passed for dirt on the garbage ball of a world, Trawin sprung into action. Piling out of the vehicle alongside the others, Bradlev took his position on the opposite end of the squad from Okoye. As he fired in sync with the pattern they'd bother mastered, an order came in over the comlink. "Tapalo get up there, you too Trawin, we're going to need suppressing fire on the hostiles. Everyone else move ahead, take cover and push forward steadily. The closer we go to the base the clearer shot that turret has of us. Don't get caught in its path." Trawin noted the massive scrap heap Kavis had been referring to, responding with a simple "TK-2323 acknowledges, moving now."

Making his way up the mound to their left was no easy feat, especially not while under heavy enemy fire. As he hefted himself up the precarious trash heap, Trawin quickly scrambled behind an old lump of durasteel that would make a suitable brace for his bipod, as well as decent cover from blaster fire. Bringing his T-21 to bear, Bradlev trained it on the foes advancing towards his squadmates, syncing his fire with the distant roar of Okoye's own blaster, Trawin did his best to either drive the advancing enemies back or into cover, hoping Tapalo would use this to her advantage to pick them off.

Blaster shots could be heard echoing across the junk covered surface of Lotho Minor. The thick smog which seemingly covered the world was lit up with raging plasma bolts. Some slammed into the ground, others into heaps of trash, kicking up muck with each hit. The Stormtroopers of 1st Squad would find their armor became less and less spotless as the firefight raged on. Sergeant Vytuia wiped away a foul splash of waste from his visor which kicked up as he ordered for the troopers on the ground around him to advance and push the advantage. Ahead of them several Junkers had gone down, the cybernetic denizens of the world overestimating the effect their ambush would have on the highly organized soldiers. The nine opposing soldiers had been reduced to four, one on the turret, another beside him and two more below. All while the Imperial's finest remained unscathed in the chaos.

Tearing ahead, Vytuia led the charge with his loyal brothers behind him. Tapalo and Trawin did their duty to the side, taking advantage of higher ground. As Kavis bounded himself ahead through the path ahead, the turret still remained having gained a better sight of the encroaching troopers. The Sergeant dove to the side as the emplaced weapon zeroed in on him. He slide behind a rusted engine of a starfighter, dirt and filth covering his legs as the turret missed by mere inches. Having forced the approaching soldiers behind cover.

"Someone take out that damned gun!" Kavis hollered into his commlink over the intense sounds of warfare and between adrenaline filled heavy breaths. The veteran trooper was still well composed and aching to continue the push. He glanced around, and spotted a path to the left, marked with debris along the way. Perhaps a flank could be attempted.

"Okoye and Skaya go left, quickly. Everyone else pin down those bastards, keep their attention on us. But don't do anything stupid." The commanding trooper stated, then went against his own advice and darted to his right breaking from cover.

The turret followed his path, lighting the ground ablaze. He could practically feel the heat of the blaster bolts as they drew oh so close to hitting him. As he dove behind debris, one did graze his right leg causing him to yelp in surprise. As he sat behind cover he reached his hand down, feeling where it had skimmed across his leg. The armor had taken the brunt of the damage, a noticeable burn upon it allowing him to see his body suit underneath. He did not feel much pain, and let out a sigh in relief. The turret, and the other Junkers still attacking them continued to fire around him. Kavis firmly grasped his E-11, the blaster rifle marked with dirt but still in peak condition. Then he popped his head up slightly and fired wildly towards the two Junkers near the bottom of the hill, behind cover. The shots slammed into the dirt around them, drawing their attention. As they fired in his direction he smirked.

An advantage the hardened Imperials had was that they were used to this kind of intensity, having been put through hell on training so that they could endure and persevere in such conditions. In other words they were used to this madness, landing on alien worlds, with leering eyes upon them and angry blasters pointed at them but still carrying out orders the best they could. He could almost sense the difference in the Junkers, the aliens having lost five of their soldiers rapidly despite both holding the initial advantage with an ambush, numbers and a turret. Soon enough those five would be extinguished, and his squad would be pushing ahead inside the base.