honeysweetestco
Simple Unicycle
Izurich
Pyrrhic
Atalanta
Byrd Man
Jamesyco
Sanity43217
Lord Shaxx
Rhys Xano was the beating heart of Signal Mountain, the being that maintained the complicated encryption algorithms that ran the place's systems and the one brought in to troubleshoot the truly complicated situations. It was his terminal that beeped at him urgently with a transmission and he used eyestalk movements and blinking to interact with the interface that was holographic and movement tracking in nature. His species, such as they were, had long ago specialized in data technology use and could run laps around humans figuratively in this field. He knew more than he wanted to about rebel operations, and knew that Signal Mountain did not have much time.
The first message came through saying "EYES ONLY COLONEL JOVAN VALTH" but he cracked the encyrption whose keywords read, around all the words that padded out the essentials of the message "OPORD EVAC SIGNAL MOUNTAIN SPECFORCES TF-244 EN ROUTE WITH TRANSPORT" and a variety of other details that he catalogued for others. Then, he activated his commlink with the General, only conveying the part he was supposed to read, "Colonel," he burbled through the vocabulator tha translated his electric currents, the means by which is species communicated among themselves, "there is a eyes only transmission for you. I have forwarded it through the system."
"Of course, thank you." Xanth, an Alderaanian, was a courteous fellow, an experienced Republic officer that had been tasked with the very tough task of holding out Signal Mountain when General Jaldis decided that he had to report to Rebel High Command in person regarding the situation...and never returned.
Vanth, however, had done a job of holding off the Empire, but the walls were closing in. The problem was, as a stubborn fighter, he'd decided that he was a dead man walking and his command could do nothing but sell itself dearly for the cause. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism that allowed him to focus on the day to day running, but he could already predict the Colonel's response. The second message, however, was an encryption that could not break. That, in and of itself, was an interesting engima, as was the title: "PRIORITY TO DARRICK ALSHAAHIN 2FA AUTH DISPATCHER ADMIN ACCESS. INSENT AUTHENTICATION MEDIA TO PROCEED."
"Mando, you have a message here that requires your physical presence to authenticate." The vocabulator switched over to Huttese to prevent easy overhearing. A few fringers were in Signal Hill, and a few protocol droids, but it was unlikely anyone listening on the intercom channel would be able to break the quick convo that fast."
The voice came over the comms, with a strange lilt that he'd learned to associate with Mandos, though he knew this one didn't have a 'trad Mandalorian' accent, "For me?"
"For you. It says DISPATCHER. Requires admin access authentication."
The Mando's voice over the comms, sounded shocked, as he took a deep breath, exhaled and then told Xano, "I'm on my bloody way."
--
Aboard the ship, a voice called out, onto the bridge, "Administrative User Authenticated" in a highly digital, almost grating voice that one associated with security or bounty hunting droids, the sort of vocabulator that did not promote warm and fuzzies. But it was, to the beings on the bridge, the ones clued into the operation, relieving to hear.
--
Xano was in the barracks room deep in the bowels of Signal Mountain, but the decrypt/signals op center traveled with him, even if there was technically a major he reported to who had been KIA in the fighting; a TIE Bomber with a penetrator munition did for him weeks ago and the TO&E had never been updated with a replacement. There weren't a lot of officers left in the place, which meant that Sergeants had to step up. But he was a Tech Lieutenant. A gastropod with eight eyestalks, no manipulation organs and a total inability to hold a spanner or blaster...but he had drones and some of those circled around, providing him with a constant stream of updates. But without a vocabulator, no one else could be interrupted. He had two eyestalks on the others in the room; assorted disheveled Rebel troopers in various states of disarray and undress, weapons and equipment hanging off bunk-beds in varying states of being maintained and cleaned, or, at the very least, jury-rigged, in many cases by droids in the integrated network that he ran.
There was Dar Alshaahin, a standout in the traditional armor of his people, but helmet off, and his equipment laid out carefully on the bunker; a jet pack, thermal detonators and assorted ammunition, at least one electroshock baton, collapsible, and a blaster that looked almost like a pipe with a stock and a power source, worn in and with the barrel itself worn of all coating from rapid firing. Well used equipment. With the helmet off, he looked a little young for it, though his eyes had more strain around them now, and there was healed-over tissue from a near miss under his helmet that was going to be a scar despite the use of bacta. There was a scruffy beard, curly hair on top, and slightly swarthy skin. His face was roundish, and he was perhaps a bit broader in the shoulder than he was tall, it gave him a bulky, low-set look. Clone troopers had a lilt at the end of vowels, he spoke with a very different sort of drawl, a treatment of the vowels more guttural. But he spoke Galactic Basic clearly enough to be well understood.
He wasn't the only fringer in the room, there were a couple others, odd ducks among the rebel troopers, though as the fighting ground on and those beings became veterans, they started to look more like the fringers, the odd bounty hunter or smuggler or syndicate fighter that managed to work their way into the Rebellion alongside all the fresh faced idealists. These were the survivors of the fighting, and there weren't a lot of them left. Some of them had never picked up a blaster before, and some of them were still Tech Corporals and Tech Sergeants, but they'd joined the fray out of necessity, while Xano automated more functions and developed ways to try to take the load off Signal Mountain while maintaining the mission.
"The reason we're here is because rescue is inbound; a force of Rebel Intelligence operatives are going to be in position to give us transport out of this place and to where we can be extracted. The rub is that we need to break past the lines here." Not the easiest, with the Imperial encirclement. Everyone in the room had been out on nighttime raids, except Xano, where explosives were planted and any Imperial that got in the way was blasted or flamed or blown up.
But they'd broken in and fallen back, after taking their pound of flesh from the enemy. Breaking past had never been part of these raids, whose objective was to disrupt, delay and destroy as much as possible to drag the siege out. Breaking through meant risking that the promised transport would be there, that they could get a ride.
DISPATCHER promised that. It was not good enough for the Colonel, who feared losing the force entirely on messages promising scanty support and relief, after so many instances where rebel command insisted that there were no resources. A "forlorn hope" he called it, and forbade further action beyond what was already authorized.
But what Rebel Intelligence failed to provide Valth, the Mando had details. Xano was scrolling the briefing as he put it on projector, "We have a number of Juggernauts and a friendly-held location to rendezvous. They will drive us to extraction LZ's. There are two squadrons of fighters to provide close air support, and we will be marking our positions with encrypted beacons that Xano here," a nod to the gastropod, whose species name was a series of electrical pulses just like the rest of his language, "Will provide and that our rescuers will recognize as we have the full advantage of one-time encryption for all this equipment. As we move out, we will be setting all defenses here to automated protocols."
"The tough part, as you see here, is the anti aircraft missile and blaster batteries, which, as we know, have exceptionally good tracking systems. Our rescuers have already agreed to start raiding these installations, but three of them are close by and our rescuers are small numbers. We're going to have to fight through it," he said, matter of factly.
That simple, Xano thought, but the other beings in the room were nodding.
--
The preparations were fast -- they were set to raid anyway, and this was a raid with extra kilograms of explosives in packs and anything that wasn't going to be left behind. Signal Mountain was surprisingly easy, from the inside, to prepare for detonation and a data scrub - the protocols were hardwired in.
Still, some of the beings going on these raids were not the particular sort of soldier or fighter that did the close up and nasty work, the kind of being that looked at vulnerabilities and ways to win. But the survivors of the siege, the ones that went on the raids and attacked instinctively, rather than defended, were not the hesitant sort. A few were moving with Xano, the Colonel and other support types in a group whose orders were to use the chaos to slip through the lines, led by an old Kadas'sa'Nikto, Arkai Chian, who was as slippery a scout as Signal Mountain had. While Chain was invaluable to a raiding force, he was more invaluable to getting out key analysts and signals types. And one stunned Colonel, too respected to be left behind, even if he had started to crack under the pressure. The experienced people and newcomers to the world of objective raids, particularly desperate ones like this operation, were split evenly, it meant that there were three groups, the largest being the evasion group, the other two being smaller groups, of around seven or eight, doing the actual raiding.
Dar was helmeted, a figure in dull red with green and yellow trim, moving through the dark in a crouch, sweating under the helmet in the dark as the firefight started from the automated systems, blaster in hand and a satchel full of stick grenades hanging off his shoulder, easy access. The Imperial Army was here, the men in gray, rather than the stormtroopers, who were held in reserve as a quick reaction force. They used contours in the terrain to keep their heads under the ability of emplaced weapons to depress below their duraplast fortifications, even though rebel raiders, like the six or so behind him in browns and greens, smocks breaking up their forms, used those fortifications to their advantage, crawling right up to the edges, as they were now. The safety of hard cover came at the expense of the ability to see, which was much more important when facing a raiding force of aggressive types. The safety of fortifications encouraged the Imperial Army troopers, conscripts in most cases, to hold in their cover, rather than get out and set roving patrols. The siege was almost over, and the common wisdom was that the rebels were too few to do much.
Of course, the rebels didn't need large numbers to hit an outpost, and they had the advantage of interior lines -- many different outposts all around, all calculating low odds of being hit individually. And the Rebels were making sure, this time, to hit what hadn't been hit before; they changed the pattern by trying to slip past the forward outposts, the most alert of the sentries, for the, until presently, less targeted installations; the anti-air batteries and their command and control. Task Force 244 had the honor of taking control. The Signal Mountain Rebels were going after the two closest batteries on their way out of the place.
Dar pulled one of of the detonators out of his bag, activated it, held it for a few seconds and then lightly tossed it over the top, into the trench works. Others followed suit, tossing grenades into all sorts of points along the lines in near-synchronicity with Dar. The Rebellion didn't have access to much in the way of night optics, but it had a huge advantage in that it was a multispecies organization and some of the troopers in Signal Mountain were from those species -- they saw much better in the dark than humans...and while Stormtroopers had the best of the best, including optical enhancement, these were regular Imperial Army and they were not so well equipped. One trooper, in particular, did not see the jet of flame that came off Dar's wrist as he vaulted into the fortifications, using the light to flare the other side, to help disorient them.
The sound of the dets going off, along with the plume of dirt, the concussion and the smoke from the explosions, were a shock; the anti-starfighter gunners were not expecting an assault, beings pouring in, firing rapidly, shouting instructions to each other and generally using the element of surprise, shock and suppression. There was something to be said for the volume of fire in the night, the blaster bolts coming in a sheer volley by beings that had overcome their hesitation to shoot through actual experience, "GUN CONSOLE MY FRONT LEFT!" Dar yelled over the din, even as he continued to fire bolt after bolt, thre or four for every one coming his way. Someone that knew him might be able to imagine a bared-tooth snarl to go with that rough shout, but the enemy were just seeing that T-visor as he drew the fire with his beskar and pumped rounds and grenades down the length of trenches, forcing heads down to allow the rest of the element to maneuver.
"Keep their kriffing heads down, keep those bolts flying," was called out by someone in the raiding force, for the benefit of the of the one or two new people among them who, perhaps, were hesitating. The briefing was clear; armed or unarmed, sleeping or standing, these were the enemy.
The first message came through saying "EYES ONLY COLONEL JOVAN VALTH" but he cracked the encyrption whose keywords read, around all the words that padded out the essentials of the message "OPORD EVAC SIGNAL MOUNTAIN SPECFORCES TF-244 EN ROUTE WITH TRANSPORT" and a variety of other details that he catalogued for others. Then, he activated his commlink with the General, only conveying the part he was supposed to read, "Colonel," he burbled through the vocabulator tha translated his electric currents, the means by which is species communicated among themselves, "there is a eyes only transmission for you. I have forwarded it through the system."
"Of course, thank you." Xanth, an Alderaanian, was a courteous fellow, an experienced Republic officer that had been tasked with the very tough task of holding out Signal Mountain when General Jaldis decided that he had to report to Rebel High Command in person regarding the situation...and never returned.
Vanth, however, had done a job of holding off the Empire, but the walls were closing in. The problem was, as a stubborn fighter, he'd decided that he was a dead man walking and his command could do nothing but sell itself dearly for the cause. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism that allowed him to focus on the day to day running, but he could already predict the Colonel's response. The second message, however, was an encryption that could not break. That, in and of itself, was an interesting engima, as was the title: "PRIORITY TO DARRICK ALSHAAHIN 2FA AUTH DISPATCHER ADMIN ACCESS. INSENT AUTHENTICATION MEDIA TO PROCEED."
"Mando, you have a message here that requires your physical presence to authenticate." The vocabulator switched over to Huttese to prevent easy overhearing. A few fringers were in Signal Hill, and a few protocol droids, but it was unlikely anyone listening on the intercom channel would be able to break the quick convo that fast."
The voice came over the comms, with a strange lilt that he'd learned to associate with Mandos, though he knew this one didn't have a 'trad Mandalorian' accent, "For me?"
"For you. It says DISPATCHER. Requires admin access authentication."
The Mando's voice over the comms, sounded shocked, as he took a deep breath, exhaled and then told Xano, "I'm on my bloody way."
--
Aboard the ship, a voice called out, onto the bridge, "Administrative User Authenticated" in a highly digital, almost grating voice that one associated with security or bounty hunting droids, the sort of vocabulator that did not promote warm and fuzzies. But it was, to the beings on the bridge, the ones clued into the operation, relieving to hear.
--
Xano was in the barracks room deep in the bowels of Signal Mountain, but the decrypt/signals op center traveled with him, even if there was technically a major he reported to who had been KIA in the fighting; a TIE Bomber with a penetrator munition did for him weeks ago and the TO&E had never been updated with a replacement. There weren't a lot of officers left in the place, which meant that Sergeants had to step up. But he was a Tech Lieutenant. A gastropod with eight eyestalks, no manipulation organs and a total inability to hold a spanner or blaster...but he had drones and some of those circled around, providing him with a constant stream of updates. But without a vocabulator, no one else could be interrupted. He had two eyestalks on the others in the room; assorted disheveled Rebel troopers in various states of disarray and undress, weapons and equipment hanging off bunk-beds in varying states of being maintained and cleaned, or, at the very least, jury-rigged, in many cases by droids in the integrated network that he ran.
There was Dar Alshaahin, a standout in the traditional armor of his people, but helmet off, and his equipment laid out carefully on the bunker; a jet pack, thermal detonators and assorted ammunition, at least one electroshock baton, collapsible, and a blaster that looked almost like a pipe with a stock and a power source, worn in and with the barrel itself worn of all coating from rapid firing. Well used equipment. With the helmet off, he looked a little young for it, though his eyes had more strain around them now, and there was healed-over tissue from a near miss under his helmet that was going to be a scar despite the use of bacta. There was a scruffy beard, curly hair on top, and slightly swarthy skin. His face was roundish, and he was perhaps a bit broader in the shoulder than he was tall, it gave him a bulky, low-set look. Clone troopers had a lilt at the end of vowels, he spoke with a very different sort of drawl, a treatment of the vowels more guttural. But he spoke Galactic Basic clearly enough to be well understood.
He wasn't the only fringer in the room, there were a couple others, odd ducks among the rebel troopers, though as the fighting ground on and those beings became veterans, they started to look more like the fringers, the odd bounty hunter or smuggler or syndicate fighter that managed to work their way into the Rebellion alongside all the fresh faced idealists. These were the survivors of the fighting, and there weren't a lot of them left. Some of them had never picked up a blaster before, and some of them were still Tech Corporals and Tech Sergeants, but they'd joined the fray out of necessity, while Xano automated more functions and developed ways to try to take the load off Signal Mountain while maintaining the mission.
"The reason we're here is because rescue is inbound; a force of Rebel Intelligence operatives are going to be in position to give us transport out of this place and to where we can be extracted. The rub is that we need to break past the lines here." Not the easiest, with the Imperial encirclement. Everyone in the room had been out on nighttime raids, except Xano, where explosives were planted and any Imperial that got in the way was blasted or flamed or blown up.
But they'd broken in and fallen back, after taking their pound of flesh from the enemy. Breaking past had never been part of these raids, whose objective was to disrupt, delay and destroy as much as possible to drag the siege out. Breaking through meant risking that the promised transport would be there, that they could get a ride.
DISPATCHER promised that. It was not good enough for the Colonel, who feared losing the force entirely on messages promising scanty support and relief, after so many instances where rebel command insisted that there were no resources. A "forlorn hope" he called it, and forbade further action beyond what was already authorized.
But what Rebel Intelligence failed to provide Valth, the Mando had details. Xano was scrolling the briefing as he put it on projector, "We have a number of Juggernauts and a friendly-held location to rendezvous. They will drive us to extraction LZ's. There are two squadrons of fighters to provide close air support, and we will be marking our positions with encrypted beacons that Xano here," a nod to the gastropod, whose species name was a series of electrical pulses just like the rest of his language, "Will provide and that our rescuers will recognize as we have the full advantage of one-time encryption for all this equipment. As we move out, we will be setting all defenses here to automated protocols."
"The tough part, as you see here, is the anti aircraft missile and blaster batteries, which, as we know, have exceptionally good tracking systems. Our rescuers have already agreed to start raiding these installations, but three of them are close by and our rescuers are small numbers. We're going to have to fight through it," he said, matter of factly.
That simple, Xano thought, but the other beings in the room were nodding.
--
The preparations were fast -- they were set to raid anyway, and this was a raid with extra kilograms of explosives in packs and anything that wasn't going to be left behind. Signal Mountain was surprisingly easy, from the inside, to prepare for detonation and a data scrub - the protocols were hardwired in.
Still, some of the beings going on these raids were not the particular sort of soldier or fighter that did the close up and nasty work, the kind of being that looked at vulnerabilities and ways to win. But the survivors of the siege, the ones that went on the raids and attacked instinctively, rather than defended, were not the hesitant sort. A few were moving with Xano, the Colonel and other support types in a group whose orders were to use the chaos to slip through the lines, led by an old Kadas'sa'Nikto, Arkai Chian, who was as slippery a scout as Signal Mountain had. While Chain was invaluable to a raiding force, he was more invaluable to getting out key analysts and signals types. And one stunned Colonel, too respected to be left behind, even if he had started to crack under the pressure. The experienced people and newcomers to the world of objective raids, particularly desperate ones like this operation, were split evenly, it meant that there were three groups, the largest being the evasion group, the other two being smaller groups, of around seven or eight, doing the actual raiding.
Dar was helmeted, a figure in dull red with green and yellow trim, moving through the dark in a crouch, sweating under the helmet in the dark as the firefight started from the automated systems, blaster in hand and a satchel full of stick grenades hanging off his shoulder, easy access. The Imperial Army was here, the men in gray, rather than the stormtroopers, who were held in reserve as a quick reaction force. They used contours in the terrain to keep their heads under the ability of emplaced weapons to depress below their duraplast fortifications, even though rebel raiders, like the six or so behind him in browns and greens, smocks breaking up their forms, used those fortifications to their advantage, crawling right up to the edges, as they were now. The safety of hard cover came at the expense of the ability to see, which was much more important when facing a raiding force of aggressive types. The safety of fortifications encouraged the Imperial Army troopers, conscripts in most cases, to hold in their cover, rather than get out and set roving patrols. The siege was almost over, and the common wisdom was that the rebels were too few to do much.
Of course, the rebels didn't need large numbers to hit an outpost, and they had the advantage of interior lines -- many different outposts all around, all calculating low odds of being hit individually. And the Rebels were making sure, this time, to hit what hadn't been hit before; they changed the pattern by trying to slip past the forward outposts, the most alert of the sentries, for the, until presently, less targeted installations; the anti-air batteries and their command and control. Task Force 244 had the honor of taking control. The Signal Mountain Rebels were going after the two closest batteries on their way out of the place.
Dar pulled one of of the detonators out of his bag, activated it, held it for a few seconds and then lightly tossed it over the top, into the trench works. Others followed suit, tossing grenades into all sorts of points along the lines in near-synchronicity with Dar. The Rebellion didn't have access to much in the way of night optics, but it had a huge advantage in that it was a multispecies organization and some of the troopers in Signal Mountain were from those species -- they saw much better in the dark than humans...and while Stormtroopers had the best of the best, including optical enhancement, these were regular Imperial Army and they were not so well equipped. One trooper, in particular, did not see the jet of flame that came off Dar's wrist as he vaulted into the fortifications, using the light to flare the other side, to help disorient them.
The sound of the dets going off, along with the plume of dirt, the concussion and the smoke from the explosions, were a shock; the anti-starfighter gunners were not expecting an assault, beings pouring in, firing rapidly, shouting instructions to each other and generally using the element of surprise, shock and suppression. There was something to be said for the volume of fire in the night, the blaster bolts coming in a sheer volley by beings that had overcome their hesitation to shoot through actual experience, "GUN CONSOLE MY FRONT LEFT!" Dar yelled over the din, even as he continued to fire bolt after bolt, thre or four for every one coming his way. Someone that knew him might be able to imagine a bared-tooth snarl to go with that rough shout, but the enemy were just seeing that T-visor as he drew the fire with his beskar and pumped rounds and grenades down the length of trenches, forcing heads down to allow the rest of the element to maneuver.
"Keep their kriffing heads down, keep those bolts flying," was called out by someone in the raiding force, for the benefit of the of the one or two new people among them who, perhaps, were hesitating. The briefing was clear; armed or unarmed, sleeping or standing, these were the enemy.