The Rebel Faction

In the Control Room


The three remaining Special Forces troopers had kept up a steady fire, keeping the Coalition spies' heads down for the most part. A bit of fire came back from one of the cells, but it was as inaccurate as it was sporadic. A few well-placed shots from Green Two managed to send the alien scum scurrying back behind his cover.

Uthria realized how much he'd been shooting about the time his power pack emptied. Ducking down to reload, he didn't see the small, cylindrical object being hurled from the center of the room. Green Two did, and fruitlessly attempted to shoot it down. As the detonator arched towards them, he dived as well.

Green Six wasn't so fortunate. He came up for a shot just as the explosion ripped through the air outside the control room. Shrapnel flew through the hole, instantly decapitating him. His death was quick and painless, but it wasn't the end of the damage.

The explosion also ripped apart the walls of the control room and sent the last two Imperials flying through the air in opposite directions. As fate would have it, neither was seriously injured, and the fact that they were thrown ended up being the best thing that could have happened. As they flew, the ceiling and the walls crashed down on the position they had recently held, burying Green Six under a pile of rubble and separating Uthria and Two.

Uthria, alone now, picked himself up as the dust settled and did a quick damage assessment. No broken bones, a few bruises - nothing major. But his E-11 was gone. All he had was a slug-thrower with seven rounds and his combat knife. And his extra ammo was gone as well. Cursing in disgust, he began moving back towards the maintanance tunnel. He'd intercept the kriffing killers on their way out. Seven rounds, six targets. Perfect.

Green Two was knocked unconscious by the blast. Several minutes passed before he came around, and when he did he was alone. Assuming both Six and his commander were under the rubble, he also moved in the direction of the tunnel. The Coalition would pay for this.


One Level Down


The six members of Green Squadron had opened fire the second they saw a face poke around the corner. Someone must have jerked the enemy back, though, since none of the red energy bolts connected. A few random shots followed, just to let their opponents know that the Imperials weren't leaving, but the six decided to conserve ammo. Their cover was good, and they had a few tricks up their sleeves.

Green Eight, on command, produced two frag grenades. Setting them for two second explosions, he rolled the first one down the hall, then the second. After the explosions, the Imperials waited. If anyone survived, they wouldn't make it past this point.

What none of them knew was that directly above their enemies ran a second maintanence corridor. It wasn't marked on the schematics on the computer, but one of the frag grenades had managed to rip open the ceiling enough to expose the trapdoor. The Coalition spies had another way out.

Two minutes earlier


Uthria pulled himself back up into the corridor. His slugthrower now at the bottom of what seemed like a bottomless shaft, he cursed his bad luck. Today, or rather tonight, had not been his night.

He'd been walking along the maintanance corridor, hoping to cut off the retreat of the Coalition spies, when fifty meters of the corridor had simply collapsed. He'd barely managed to catch hold of the part that remained as the remaineder of the tunnel crashed down through what appeared to be the empty core of the building. Apparently the builders had seen fit to construct a trap for the unwary. Either that, or they were simply lazy and left the building hollow.

Apparently he'd taken a wrong turn. Backtracking, Uthria trotted along, hate consuming his mind. In his warped state, he blamed the Coalition even for this latest accident, though in the last remaining rational part of his brain he knew that they could not have been responsible. They would die nonetheless.

As he moved, he heard a noise coming from one of the side tunnels. Stopping, he listened more closely. That's got to be one of them, he said to himself. Moving to the side of the corridor, he drew his knife and waited next to the tunnel. When the spy emerged, the Commander would kill him. And he rather enjoyed the thought of slitting the kriffing Sithspawn's throat.


Main Control Room, Top Floor


The supervisor watched the battle with a growing sense of rage. Whoever these infiltrators were, they were good. Two teams of stormtroopers went down, and now several of them had entered the unmonitored maintanance corridor. He cursed and attempted to think of a way to stop them.

When he saw the other three spies emerge from Detention Block 11C-3, he smiled. This was a development he could do something about. All of the lockdown mechanisms were at his fingertips; all he had to do was push the right ones. His hands reached out and touched three different buttons. Unless the escapees blew the security doors, they were trapped in the hallways. The guard watched with glee as the stormtroopers began to close in.


Hallways near Detention Block 11C-3


Lieutenant RC-459 moved along at the head of his stormtrooper squadron. He was a somewhat new commander, as the previous lieutenant had been killed not two weeks ago during an alien riot in the lower streets of Coruscant. Now he led the men with which he'd served for two years. He would prove here that he was worthy of his position.

The infiltrators had escaped out another entrance as his team had broken into the Detention Block, but they were not far ahead. He and his men advanced cautiously, checking corners before continuing the pursuit. One man already lay dead, the price for overeagerness. That would not happen again. As he moved, the voice of the supervisor came over his comm. "All units, be advised that three infiltrators are trapped in the hallways between Detention Blocks 11C-3 and 11C-4. Use caution."

He smiled. The enemy was trapped, probably against the security doors. They'd need a proton torpedo to blow those things open. Or a really good slicer. He checked around the next corner and glimpsed the three infiltrators, along with the escaped prisoners, just as he'd expected. The security door was shut.

Not wishing to lose any men, he pulled out a grenade. He waited a few seconds for the rest of his men to come up, then pulled the pin and tossed it around the corner. Five seconds later came the explosion, and RC-459 spun around the corner to find the corridor empty. The security door was open and the prisoners gone. He cursed and started running down the hallway after them, his men following.


On the other side of the lockdown


Green Nine cursed. After the grenades had detonated, the members of Green Squadron had waited for the dust to settle before approaching the corner. They had rounded it only to find that the grenades had not even scratched their opponents but had in fact opened up an escape route for them. Hence the profanity that now filled the hallways.

The six squadron members didn't have long to think about their situation, though. Green Ten was the first to spot the spies and the prisoners racing down the hallway towards them. Outnumbered, Green Nine gave the order to take cover and fire. Blaster bolts began to fill the hallway as both sides opened fire.

In the hallway


Overtaken by fright, and realizing that standing in the path of an angry Azguard is generally not a good idea, the six members of Green Squadron scrambled back around the corner. Nine poked his head out just in time to see the beast scrambled through the maintanance hatch that its companions had entered previously. Cursing, he rushed forward, only to plow into RC-459. The two went down in a tangle of arms, legs, bodies, and armor. Most of the soldiers remained stoic, but one of them couldn't help himself. At the sight of his wingmate making such a blunder, despite of the situation, Green Ten burst out laughing.

The two armored troopers picked themselves up, and Nine immediately assumed command. "Lieutenant, take your men and secure all exits from that corridor. We cannot allow those spies to escape."

As is inevitable in such situations, RC-459 was put off by the superior tone - until he saw the markings of the Special Forces on Nine's armor. "Yes, sir," he replied. The stormtroopers moved off as quickly as they could.

Nine glanced back at his comrades. "Alright, boys, we're going after them. Eight, take point."

Green Eight, the squadron's resident sniper, raised his rifle and head through the hatch. Peering through his night-vision scope, he scanned the corridor. "All clear," he called down. Pulling himself the rest of the way through the hole, he started slowly down the hall, careful to spot any possible ambushes. The rest of Green Squadron followed, taking up positions on the sides of the corridor.


Down the corridor


Uthria couldn't wait any longer. Punching a hole in the wall, he swept his knife around, hoping to at least bleed the kriffing spy that had killed his men. No such luck. His knife barely managed to catch a small bit of cloth before the agent grabbed his arm and pulled him into the wall, using the momentum to roll himself out.

Uthria's helmet hit the metal with a clang that resounded through the corridor. Shaking his head, he discarded the now-dented helmet with its cracked faceplate and curled his lip into a snarl. The two agents squared off, one full of desperation, the other full of hate.

Uthria struck first. Even in his frenzied state, he still kept his head. Instead of a screaming rush, which would have ended with a Coalition knife in his chest, he made a quick jab at the agent, hoping to draw a return strike. J-1 just jumped backwards, though, too smart to be drawn into such an obvious trap.

Uthria stepped back, sizing up his opponent. The Special Forces man was larger, but the agent was more agile - the adversaries were evenly matched.

Feinting again, Uthria didn't jump back this time. Instead, he slid on his knees, swinging his knife in a slash more suited to a vibrosword than his short blade. Nevertheless, it caught the agent in the side, drawing the first blood of the fight. A flesh wound only, it didn't drop the agent. Uthria was pleased for less than a millionth of a second, though, as he felt a searing pain in his shoulder where J-1's blade had sliced him at the joint in his armor.

Both agents bleeding now, they stood back and re-assessed. Uthria upped the threat level of his opponent - this guy was good. It took skill (or a whole lot of luck) to pull off a cut like that after he was cut. His jaw shook with anger, and his eyes narrowed as the two faced off once more.

This time J-1 lunged first. Uthria ducked under the blow, and J-1, knowing that he would soon feel the Imperial blade between his shoulders, reversed his grip on the knife and stabbed backwards blindly. He was rewarded with the sound of his blade striking soft flesh and a gurgling sound following. He turned and saw the hilt of his knife sticking out of the Imperial's windpipe.

Uthria had come up intending to stab the agent in the back. Instead, the spy's knife had pierced his windpipe and severed his jugular vein. He had only seconds to live. His eyes wide, he picked himself up and, with his last bit of strength, threw himself at the Coalition agent, burying his knife in the agent's armpit. Collapsing onto the floor, he attempted to breathe, but nothing happened. And there in the tunnel, with only a Coalition spy for company, Commander Hulran Uthria died.

In the Maintanance Corridor

Green Two peered around the corner. No sign of life. After the firefight he'd just been in, this lack of activity was disturbing. He trotted ahead slowly, carbine ready. Rounding another corner, he came to a dead stop and swore. Uthria lay in a puddle of blood. Signs of a stuggle abounded, from the dented helmet to the blood splatters on the walls to the trail of blood that led away from the fight. Two approached and knelt by his commander, checking his pulse. Nothing.

He swore again, then muttered, "I guess we do all die sometimes." With that, he rose and turned to track the wounded spy. As he did so, Green Six strode up behind him. The only other survivor from the explosion, the two stared at each other, then silently moved with the blood trail. They would track the spy to hell and back if they had to, but they would kill him, and they would do it slowly.

As the two moved off, the rest of Green Squadron trotted up behind them. Green Two filled them in on the situation. Realizing they had little hope of surprising their enemies, the squadron picked up the pace until they heard an explosion in front of them. The tunnel had been blown.

Two acted quickly. Grabbing a small plasma torch from Eight, he burned a hole through the wall and entered the adjoining room. It took less than a minute to traverse the distance to the spies exit point, but even that was too long. The speeder was pulling away just as they arrived. In a fit of rage, Two fired a long stream of energy from his carbine into the armored hull of the speeder, but the light bolts did nothing but make noise.

As the police speeder pulled away, though, two other speeders came into view. Stopping at the hole in the wall, Wes Vos called out, "Where are they?" A nod and a pointed finger from two told the Captain all he needed to know as he saw the slower police speeder disappearing into the urban terrain of Coruscant. The two speeders carrying Gray Squadron accelerated after it.

Wes, driving the first speeder, called out to Racen Selere, Gray One. "Captain, get your repeater ready." Selere, a large man, was carrying a heavy repeating blaster. He was the only one in the squad who could use it, and that was going to come in handy now. While the blasts from a carbine might not do much to the police vehicle, a reapeating blaster was a different story.

"Aim for the engines," Wes continued. "Not much armor there." Selere did as he was told, waiting for a close, clear shot. After a few minutes, they were in range. And they leveled off. Selere, sighting as best he could down the barrel, squeezed the trigger. Red energy bolts sped from the barrel, lighting up the rear of the police speeder. If the engines went, the repulsors would be soon to follow; then it was lights out for anyone in the armored vehicle as a 300 meter plunge to Coruscant's surface would disintegrate the craft.

Return fire began flying from the craft as the police speeder began weaving in an attempt to lose its pursuers. Wes couldn't see the creature firing it, but he knew the thing had to be big. Selere shouted down at him, "Quit movin' aroud! You're spoilin' my aim!"

Wes yelled back. "Well, if you want to die, you drive the kriffing thing!" He swerved again to avoid another energy bolt, and yelled, "How the kriff is he that accurate?! He doesn't have a mount!"

Selere stopped shooting long enough to spare a glance at the being firing back at them. "It's a kriffing Azguard!" he replied, resuming his fire. This time the bolts flew towards the shooter rather than the engines, though.

In the second speeder, Gray 9 was having trouble keeping his speeder out of the way of the E-Web's fire. Two grazing shots left burn marks on the speeder's paint got him riled. The third, which nearly took his head off, got him mad.

"To hell with you, you kriffiing Sith spawn!" he cried out in rage. Pushing the throttle all the way forward, and pushing the speeder's engines past the danger point, the speeder shot forward, passing Wes's vehicle and climbing into a position directly over the enemy craft. Sideslipping left, Nine banked just enough to allow the three squadron members to open up on the Azguard with their small arms. The bolts began striking dangerously close, and the creature, recognizing the above threat, twisted to fire the weapon straight up. One bolt connected, spinning the speeder off course.

Wes, cursing, slowed down to make sure his squadron mates were still healthy. By the time Gray 9 had gotten the speeder under control, their enemy had gained nearly a kilometer lead. "Stang!" cursed Wes. "Alright, let's catch 'em."

Engaging the throttles once more, the small speeders roared after the other. After a minute, though, the craft disappeared. Gray Squadron flew around the area for several minutes before figuring out that they weren't going to find anything that way. But then...

The scanner on Wes's ship seemed to be picking up lifeform readings nearby. Not sure it wasn't simply Coruscant civilians, he decided to try something different. He grabbed his commlink. "Gray Nine, pull back half a klick and hide the speeder. I think I've got 'em. If I do, we'll follow them on foot. Might be able to capture one of them. Figure out what the heck they're after."

Nine confirmed the order, and both speeders took off the way they had come. After half a klick, they rounded a building and cut the power. Quickly grabbing their gear, the thirteen SF troopers moved silently towards their quarry.

When they reached the position once again, the lifeform readings were gone. Wes had marked the spot, though, and it wasn't long before Gray 4 signaled that he'd found the speeder. It looked pretty torn up - a testament to Selere's skill - and the power was completely dead.

"Stang," said Two. "It must have limped in here on its last legs. We almost had it."

"They aren't gone yet," replied Wes. "Come on, let's start tracking." With Eight, Gray Squadron's infiltration and tracking expert, leading the way, the thirteen troopers began the long trek through the city, following their opponent's trail. Eight's initial observations instilled hope.

"There's a lot of them," she said, studying the tracks. "Prisoners that escaped, maybe?"

Eight had been a sub-lieutenant in the Imperial Navy before her transfer to the Special Forces. She'd worked in both intelligence and on the ground with the Imperial Marines and would have been appointed to the Guard had she not had that one episode of insubordination. A shame, really - some jerk-off Captain attempting to force himself on her. But no one could doubt that she was good at her job.

Picking up her Underslung Rotary Carbine, Eight started forward. Wes still didn't understand Eight's liking for the rarely used weapon. It worked well enough, and it didn't overheat, but it had no general appeal with the majority of Imperial forces. Oh well, he thought, if she can shoot it...

With that, the chase was on.