Cawthren rocked slightly as the Sentinel-class Landing Craft shook as fire from the Meridian defensive turrets splashed over the ship’s shields. A team of covert operatives had managed to infiltrate the station and shut its shield system down, leaving the base a vulnerable target to the incoming Brotherhood forces. This was a large scale cooperative operation between the Clans to inflict as much damage to the Collective as possible, with the hope of being a turning point in the conflict. The newly promoted Captain was taking these last few minutes before they made landing to go over their mission one last time with his troops.
“Listen up! I know you all have been briefed several times about what our mission is, but I'm going to kick this dead Bantha one last time.” A snicker went throughout the ranks of infantry following the last remark. Cawthren smiled.
“We are dropping into the station’s loading docks. Our goal will be two of the warehouses that our Intel claims is where the Collective is storing its supplies.” Shifting his gaze to his right, the knight continued, “First and Second platoon, you will be moving in to secure the objectives. You are to kill any opposition and load as much of their supplies onto this ship as possible. Third and Fourth, you will be securing the perimeter. Now there are other operations going on but I would still expect reinforcements, so dont slack off. It's your job to make sure we are not ambushed.”
Cawthren felt the ship start to slow its decent. “Okay, now Intel reports tell us to expect technocrat soldiers armed with riot batons, but don't be surprised if some have armed themselves with blasters or whatever else they can get their hands on since the assault started. Once those doors drop, I want my heavy gunners to be the first and last thing those cybernetic freaks see. The rest of you move out and start securing your objective.”
The young officer moved to where he had his own gear staged. He quickly strapped his medical bag onto his back, then checked to see that his lightsaber was securely attached to his belt. Confident that he had all of the equipment needed for the mission, Cawthren picked up his EL-16 blaster rifle and moved into position behind the line of infantry soldiers waiting for the transport ship to touch down.
The ship slammed down hard, causing some of the soldiers to lose their balance, stumbling into their companions. The locks that held the large bay doors in place hissed as they released, hinges groaning as the steel plates started to lower. Technocrat troops could be seen running for cover as the heavy gunners opened fire, spraying the loading dock in a hail of lazer fire.
Cawthren could hear the orders to move being bellowed by the platoon sergeants, as the Arconan troops started to rush forward out of the transport. The Knight charged forward out of the transport, bringing his rifle up to take aim at the Technocrat soldiers who were now pouring out of the warehouses. Squeezing off three shots, the Captain was able to see two enemy troops drop before he slid into cover behind a tipped over hover cart. So far any resistance they had encountered had only been armed with close quarters weapons and were falling easily before the Arconan forces.
What resistance hadn't been gunned down were now pulling back into the cover of the builds, realizing that they were out gunned. The first two platoons were moving into take their objectives, while third and forth were dragging whatever they could find into positions for makeshift barriers. Cawthren called over the platoon leaders for four and third. “Get your medics to start collecting and taking care of our wounded, I'm going to set up a triage point. Have them bring all injured to me.” he instructed.
Blaster fire could be heard inside of the warehouses. It seemed what security forces were set to guard the supplies intended to follow orders to the death. Injured infantry troops were now being pulled out of the builds. The injuries that the troops seemed to sustain hinted that the technocrat troops were having better luck with the melee weapons now that they were in tight quarters. One soldier had even taken a blaster bolt to the stomach.
Cawthren had set up his triage point to the side of the loading ramp to the drop ship. Soldiers who could walk were told load onto the ship. Two troops lay unconscious while the medic was applying a bacta patch to the blaster wound. “What are you doing stop!” he screamed at a group of troops who were starting to load storage crates onto the ship. “Help me get the injured onto the ship first. Then we will worry about the cargo!”
The four troops immediately dropped the crates and rushed over to their superior Officer. “Sir! Who should we get first?” the lower enlisted asked.
“Two of you carry the troop whose stomach is bandaged. Be careful with him, and make sure to lay him down gently. You two get the other two men loaded up.” Looking over the area that had been secured, the knight could see Arconan troops now coming out in teams carrying supply crates to the ship. Small bands of enemy reinforcements had started coming in random waves, only to be cut down by the entrenched soldiers.
Cawthren ordered his lieutenant to start getting a rough inventory of what was in the crates for report. Pulling out his comlink, he contacted the First and Second leaders. “Start planting the bombs sergeant. Anything we can't fit on the ship will be destroyed.” If Arcona couldn't have it, then there was no reason to allow anyone else to be able to use it.
Loading the ship took longer than the Captain would have liked, but within two hours the job was done. Five more men had been injured in some of the skirmishes with enemy reinforcements, bringing the total to twelve injured and one soldier killed, a number that was to high for comfort in Cawthren’s opinion.
The loading ramp slammed shut with a loud thud as the ship started to take off. “Lieutenant! What did we manage to get?” the the Arconan leader inquired.
“Sir! Most of the crates seem to be blaster, grenades, and personal shields. There are some with medical supplies, and armor,” the junior officer answered.
“It seems that the Collective is preparing some sort of offensive. The Consul will be pleased,” Cawthren responded as he started to establish a link to deliver his report. He hoped that this would be a hard enough blow to turn the tide for the next skirmish, wherever that may be.