NationStates Jolt Archive

“A society can be classed in terms of a day. A society starts at Dawn, it first wakes and begins to rise towards the pinnacle. The societies “Golden Age” would be noon, the best the society will reach, the best it will make. Then begins the decline. The society begins to set. Once Night falls, a society will have two paths. It will die, never to rise again, or it will manage the night and return once again.

Many Societies have fallen into the former, we see them all around us. Races and empires which have fallen into stagnation, who instead of progressing to find a new dawn, a new day, instead attempt to flee back to how it was, to clime back to where they once where.

It will never happen, their doomed to die. We have found our Dawn, this is it. Our people will recreate our power on the crucible of Strength, in the Cauldron of Honour, and the feet of the Gods. None will stop us, should we wish it.

Firsts things first, no more planets.”
-Enlorash Aleildeng, on rising from the Long Night.

The Star drifted in space, like any other star it simply sat there. Nothing changed usually, just constant Fusion creating a massive ball of Space Plasma. Anyone would simply note the system as strange cause of the group of ships floating around the thing. Even the ships seemed rather unimpressive though, just floating hulks, nothing working.

What something seems like shouldn’t be the judge.

The Star suddenly dropped by 1% in mass, easily noticeable to anyone with half decent sensors. One might consider how that happened, except for the fact that the hulks that surrounded the star all increased in mass suddenly by, guess.

That’s, between them, 1% the mass of their orbiting star. That was bound to attract attention.

One of the Dominion's I/R vessels, the Lynx, was cruising through the void on a mapping junket when sensors picked up the hulks. "Sir, I've got multiple hits. A group of hulks orbiting star ODS-876. Hard to tell at this distance but they appear to be capital ship in size."

The captain was about to respond when the tech's screen began to flash insistantly. "What now?"

"I don't understand, sir. The star's mass just decreased."

"Put it up."

"Aye, sir." A few keystrokes later, various video screens around the room displayed the star and hulks.

As the dozen or so bridgecrew watched, the captain said "Interesting, bring us in closer."

The Amazonian Dominion often had groups out of Dominion space, to find the news of the galaxy on its own terms. Inside of the Dominion home cluster, the Shroud, picking up data and much else was generally a difficult task unless relayed by a certain data code streamed to a certain frequency-one that only the Dominion knew, based on a nebulae ionic radial field's discharges. Other than that, the best way the Dominion had found to pick up data and the goings-on of the galaxy at large was to go and find out for itself with ships and men.
So it was really no coincidence that the Light Squadron Theta 374, consisting of six ships, was patrolling through a far-reaching system, searching for relay data by a local cloaked listening post. Picking up a group of metallic objects encircling the star, the squad looked to pick up possible spare parts for the storage bays. The Dominion was naturally a scavenging race, and it was good to get what was avaliable. Assuming these metallic things were ships, or abandoned hulks, or whatever, the Dominion could probaly somehow profit.
Three Typhoon-class assault shuttles deployed from the flagship, Spartan-class battlecruiser Calamitous. They quickly boosted away from the cavernous hanger bay, boosting engines and deploying weapon-studded wings.

"Nu 1 here...picking up an odd reading from the star. Copy, repeat 2 and 3 have confirmed readings from the sensor pods. Star has apparently lost 1% of its mass, at random. Likely a computer issue. Recommend the techs check it upon return."
"Keep a tab on it, Nus. Continue procedures."

The shuttles continued on their course, moving towards the hulks.

"New contacts! Reading five, no, six ships of cruiser class or better!"

The captain shot up in his seat. "Cut engines and active sensors! Rig ship for passive operations!" The engines cut out and the small ship continued forward on its own inertia while active scans stopped and external lights cut out. Additionally, nonessential systems shut down. I/R ships depended on their small size, incredibly tiny sensor profile, and impressive countermeasures suite for protection as it lacked weapons.

"Prepare the signal." murmured the captain, referring to a distress signal that would bring the ship's escort running.

Aye, sir." The tech responded just as quietly. And the ship continued to drift, the twenty-odd souls aboard it nervously watching the newcomers.

The shuttles, not yet noticing the other group in-system, came to a halt right outside the ships.

"Nothin' but hulks, apparently."
"Try a breach."

Nus 1 and 2 moved several hundred meters off, while Nu 3 closed in. Perching itself just over one of the hulks' shell, extending a small trunk-like object. The shuttle lurched suddenly, as the trunk began emitting an energy beam, trying to cut through the hull of the hulk to make a breach.

The once mighty fleets of the Manticoran Alliance lay among the blackened and charred remains of their home system. Devastated by the assault of the posleen hordes, they fled, deep into the vast stretches of the void, scattering millions of Manticoran citizens across the deepest barrens of space.

No fleet escaped the onslaught intact, though 8th fleet did fare better than most of the others in terms of overall losses. With the commands of Home and 3rd fleets gutted by the attacks of Posleen B-Decs and Globes, and the remainder of the fleets tossed to the intergalactic wilds, it fell to a rather ragged band of officers to hold together some semblence of Manticoran might.

Parting ways with the rest of the fleets, the shattered heart of 3rd sought out supplies, and spare parts to keep their vessels running. What they found was somewthing much different. Something worth capturing. They found not just a small colony, which was what they had originally believed their sensors were indicating, but instead an entire battlegroup of ships. And several vessels already seeming to lay claim. That was not something Admiral O'Neal was willing to let happen.

This is Admiral of the red Cassandra O'Neal, in command of the remnants of the Manticoiran 3rd fleet. As I have both groups of vessels here outnumbered, I demand that you stand down, and remove your vessels from the area. If you do not I will order your vessels fired upon and destroyed as interfering in the lawful activities of a Kings officer. You have 15 minutes from the reciept of this message to stand down, begin to recall your forces, or explain to us why you are unable to comply with my directive. In the latter case we will do anything in our power to assist you in leaving this system.

"Sir, the Romeo contact group has launched three shuttles. They appear to be examining the hulks."

As the Lynx continued to drift along, hopefully unnoticed, the captain rubbed the side of his face. "Be ready to signal just in case. We don't really need these things so as long as they don't initiate anything untoward, we should be-"

"New contacts!" interrupted the sensor technician, "Designated contact group Sierra. It's too soon to get an accurate count, but I think they outnumber the Romeo group, sir."

"Sir, we're picking up a system-wide broadcast. It's being transmitted in the clear." A few button punches later, the comms officer piped it over the speakers.

--I have both groups of vessels here outnumbered, I demand that you stand down, and remove your vessels from the area. If you do not I will order your vessels fired upon and destroyed as interfering in the lawful activities of a Kings officer. You have 15 minutes from the reciept of this message to stand down, begin to recall your forces, or explain to us why you are unable to comply with my directive. In the latter case we will do anything in our power to assist you in leaving this system.

"Both groups?" asked the captain, "Does he mean the Romeo group and the hulks? Are have they managed to detect us? We hardly count as a group of ships. Regardless, be ready to signal for help." He turned to his ECM operator, "Standby to give them the works if this goes bad."

"Understood, sir."

"Though how this could be construed as a lawful act, I don't know. Rights of salvage go to those who find said salvage first. While we found it first, I think we would be more than willing to abdicate our claim in favor of the Romeo contacts. They got here next and actually reached the ships first. Do we have an accurate read on how many Sierra contacts there are?"


OOC: Are you referring to my recon ship as one of the groups? 'Cause you know, by their nature they're supposed to be stealthy. And how many ships are you fielding and of what general size?

"Sir, the Romeo contact group has launched three shuttles. They appear to be examining the hulks."

As the Lynx continued to drift along, hopefully unnoticed, the captain rubbed the side of his face. "Be ready to signal just in case. We don't really need these things so as long as they don't initiate anything untoward, we should be-"

"New contacts!" interrupted the sensor technician, "Designated contact group Sierra. It's too soon to get an accurate count, but I think they outnumber the Romeo group, sir."

"Sir, we're picking up a system-wide broadcast. It's being transmitted in the clear." A few button punches later, the comms officer piped it over the speakers.



"Both groups?" asked the captain, "Does he mean the Romeo group and the hulks? Are have they managed to detect us? We hardly count as a group of ships. Regardless, be ready to signal for help." He turned to his ECM operator, "Standby to give them the works if this goes bad."

"Understood, sir."

"Though how this could be construed as a lawful act, I don't know. Rights of salvage go to those who find said salvage first. While we found it first, I think we would be more than willing to abdicate our claim in favor of the Romeo contacts. They got here next and actually reached the ships first. Do we have an accurate read on how many Sierra contacts there are?"


OOC: Are you referring to my recon ship as one of the groups? 'Cause you know, by their nature they're supposed to be stealthy. And how many ships are you fielding and of what general size?

OOC: I haven't got time for a real post, but there's about 40 ships, the largest being a Superdreadnought, the smallest being a Heavy Cruiser. All are heavily armed with missiles and a relatively adequate beam armament. Most are in an adequate state of repair, though several do sport battle damage. As a reference, the superdread is 4.5km, while the heavy cruiser is 1.25km. And that's all I have time to post...

[ooc: I wish to inform you my participation in this thread will not be anymore, sadly I do not have the heart to write anything decent at this time.

Continue the RP, you can kill yourselves over the hulks. Their about 100km in length, some very advanced technology avalibe if you get a hold of them. Very worth fighting over.

Mind you getting past security systems might be a problem.

I apologize, Love the Singing Lady.]

*snip*

OOC:

No problem. I take that as my direct orders to waste everyone in the system sand sieze the technology aboard them. Who's with me?!

@Arcadeos: I said groups because the vessel in question, while stealthy, is still detectable to a point. While my ships may only be getting shady returns, they are assuming that there is more than one vessel, and that they are in fact detecting something much larger than they actually are. They simply figure that the rest of the ships are smaller, and thus their ECM prevents my vessels sensors from picking them up.

IC:

"No response ma'am."

"Well, get a direct line to the motionless group, and dispatch Marines to take the hulks. I'm not letting something this powerful get away from us. Send a call to Lady Harrington, tell her we require more Marines and spacers to take control of this many vessels."

"Aye ma'am. Message away, still attempting to make contact weith the unverified vessel."

Unidentified Vessel, this is the Manticoran superdreadnought Medusa. You will acknowledge our transmission or be dealt with. I would appreciate a response. We know that there is at least one vessel in your group. Do not expect that you can get the drop on us by remaining silent.

The recon ship began to broadcast into the clear. "I am the captain of the Dominion ship Lynx. We are now ceasing our efforts to hide." Turning to the bridgecrew, he said "Bring us back up to full power and apprise the Old Man of our situation."

"Aye, sir." The ship's systems returned to full power and both contact groups were hit with an overwhelmingly wide assortment of sensor sweeps. Under cover of these sweeps a burst transmission was sent out of the system.


The captain turned back to his original conversation. "Now that I'm sure we have your attention, I am going to talk and you are going to listen. You come charging in here making demands as if you explect them to be met, yet your people have no authority in this system. If your actions are lawful then I'm a deity. Now, rights of salvage go to the first to make contact with said salvage. In this case, it goes to those who are already examining the hulks. In making your demands you have shown yourself to be nothing more than a pretentious troublemaker, an intergalactic delinquent. As ranking officer of the Dominion of Arcadeos, I give you my government's official response: you must be out of your effing mind, boy. In point of fact, demanding that someone abandon their possessions under threat of force is an act of piracy. Since these hulks are now in their possession, that makes you a pirate. And the Dominion's official stance has always been that we will not condone piracy, nor tolerate or deal with in any manner under any circumstances."

The tiny little ship accelerated, putting interposing its small mass between the two groups. At the same time, the Dominion's celebrated and much vaunted Third Fleet reverted to realspace at the edge of the system, relative to the Sierra contact group's port side. The recon captain continued, "While we would most likely lose our lives in such an engagement, you would not leave this system with yours either." The fleet was made up of a little over seventy vessels of various classes. While non were as large as the largest in the Sierra group, three were of comparable size while the majority were smaller than the heavy cruiser.

As the Arcadeon ships and Manticoran ships continued to procede about throwing messages back and forth, the Amazonian vessels had quietly pulled out of the range of both groups by a considerable distance, closing towards the star itself and where the shuttle trio had grouped, content to simply watch the proceedings with the other two factions. An emergency transponder had already been dispatched to a flotilla a half-sector away, but it would take a slight bit of time for them to reach the system. At the time, the Amazonians were awaiting the other two to try and go for the knockout of one, then the Amazonians, if conflicted with, could knock out the remainder group if attacked.
The 3rd shuttle, meanwhile, had succeeded cutting a hole through one of the hulk's hull, and the other two were proceeding to follow suit in the action. Three sentry droids dropped into the main hulk, weapons out. Analyzing the vessel, the droids determined it had a semblance of gravity still, but atmosphere systems were too low for the humans to fall into without combat suits. The hulk was dark, the main hallway the droids standing in littered with broken mechanics.

The recon ship began to broadcast into the clear. "I am the captain of the Dominion ship Lynx. We are now ceasing our efforts to hide." Turning to the bridgecrew, he said "Bring us back up to full power and apprise the Old Man of our situation."

"Aye, sir." The ship's systems returned to full power and both contact groups were hit with an overwhelmingly wide assortment of sensor sweeps. Under cover of these sweeps a burst transmission was sent out of the system.


The captain turned back to his original conversation. "Now that I'm sure we have your attention, I am going to talk and you are going to listen. You come charging in here making demands as if you explect them to be met, yet your people have no authority in this system. If your actions are lawful then I'm a deity. Now, rights of salvage go to the first to make contact with said salvage. In this case, it goes to those who are already examining the hulks. In making your demands you have shown yourself to be nothing more than a pretentious troublemaker, an intergalactic delinquent. As ranking officer of the Dominion of Arcadeos, I give you my government's official response: you must be out of your effing mind, boy. In point of fact, demanding that someone abandon their possessions under threat of force is an act of piracy. Since these hulks are now in their possession, that makes you a pirate. And the Dominion's official stance has always been that we will not condone piracy, nor tolerate or deal with in any manner under any circumstances."

The tiny little ship accelerated, putting interposing its small mass between the two groups. At the same time, the Dominion's celebrated and much vaunted Third Fleet reverted to realspace at the edge of the system, relative to the Sierra contact group's port side. The recon captain continued, "While we would most likely lose our lives in such an engagement, you would not leave this system with yours either." The fleet was made up of a little over seventy vessels of various classes. While non were as large as the largest in the Sierra group, three were of comparable size while the majority were smaller than the heavy cruiser.

They always chose to be brutally massacred... What was it in people like that that drove them to self destruction? Questions best left to philosophers most likely.

You want to play? Let's play then. Since you seem to be under a certain misapprehension about the realistic workings of the universe. Whoever has the most power gets to make the choices. Currently, we have somewhere near 3,000 missiles pointed at YOU. That is reality. They are not pointed at your fleet, which isn't worth our attention until it gets here. And by the time it does, you will be a freefloating ball of constituent atoms, capiche? 8th Fleet and Admiral Harrington know exactly where we are(a bluff, but who needed to tell them that?), and will likely be along shortly. Now, unless you want to deal with another 30 ships of the wall, I suggest you turn around, hike up your britches, and get the hell out of our way. You have very few realistic choices. Even with your vessels abilities at stealth, it's still 3,000 missiles. You will not survive. Then we will move on the OTHER group of ships, and give them the same choices. Once we've done that, we'll simply waltz out of the system with what we came for. So, binary solution set, move or be meat.

OOC: Curb thy wank. One does not request reinforcements and deploy them in the same post, for that be the sign of the n00b. And those that bear the sign of the n00b shall be driven out, for it is anathema to all goodly folk. Make your time. - The WICKERMAN

Gravitic anomaly detected. Solar mass reduction of 1% along upcoming route has ocurred. Suggest returning to normal state.

The response time to the computer's suggestion was a bit slower than usual, due to the helmsman's need to quickly break from the monotony of nav corrections and snap his mind into full alert. A stellar body did NOT simply lose 1% of it's entire mass except in the event of a catastrophe.

After referencing the possible events, along with all current sensor data that could be received from hyperspace, the helmsman reached the final verdict.

Inconclusive!

"Dun dun dun!" He said dramatically, and than gave the entire report to the battle chief. The battle chief smiled, glad to have something to do on the long voyage other than just the voyage.

"Bring us out in the middle of the system. I expect it's just the beginning of a nova. We'll take a few pictures and than be on our way. I think about 3 light minutes from the star should do it, right here." The battle chief tapped the display screen showing the "solar system", if a little star by it's lonesome could be called that. His orders were carried out, exit point to normal space was adjusted.
It was rare for a star to not have round planetary bodies, but the laws of probability allowed for a handful.

The first ship to exit was the Guathic Marine Ripper Transport, bursting into normal space nearer the Amazonian fleet than any other. It was a big, armored vehicle, 40 meters long and home base to brigade of Marines. This particular craft was modified with point defense guns, but it retained the signature mark of the ripper transport. The entire front "face" of the machine was nothing but energy enhanced, powered ripper blades. 20 foot long chainsaws with 6 inch teeth that nashed back and forth at unwatchable speeds, electricity making an occasional arc across them. This armored and toothed mass was driven by 8 nuclear fusion engines, altogethor capable of driving the craft to incredible speeds.
The black transport was decorated soley by a few stripes of dark green, and emblazoned across the port and starboard sides was flag of the Incorporated States of Guathic.

It was followed by 2 more ships of the same design. A second later by a 100 meter long vessel, shaped like an aquatic creature. It had the same markings and flag of Guathic, and unlike the smaller transports, was bristling with varying solid weaponry. The larger vessel could most readily be classified as a missile cruiser.

Each ship in this small group sent quick data bursts to each other, followed soon by tight-beam communications as their respective commanders discussed the data they were collecting from the system by passive sensors. This was followed soon by every vessel making active sensor sweeps of the area, clearly trying to get an assesment of the situation. After that, the communications links between the vessels ceased activity, and an open communication was directed to the Amazonian fleet.

"Hello there. This is Captain Jerdane of the Guathic Cruiser Gryphon Eye. If there is any time, would you mind telling us of the nature of the situation, and if there is anything we could do to assist you? We would be happy to discuss the matter on your terms, and also, I am honored at this chance of first contact with another space faring nation."

The three ripper transports adjusted their positions. One aimed it's nose at the hulks, the other at the Amazonian fleet, and the last at the still distant Manticorans. Other than turning their jagged metal faces, the transports made no other adjustment, allowing momentum to carry them along the exact same heading.

Meanwhile on the Gryphon Eye, Captain Jerdane awaited a response.

The captain of one of the frigates, Cpt. Rick Sanchos, kept an eye on the goings-on.

"Keep on eye on the proceedings." He told his bridge crew, "what is going on between those factions could very well affect us."
"New contact, captain." reported one of his junior officers, "mark 263. Close."
"Verify, commander."
"Contact unknown. Several ships, mostly smaller than our vessels. All are smaller than a Nova-class frigate."
"Captain!" his sensor officer shouted, "incoming transmission from the new contact group!"
"Patch it through." reported Sanchos.

Sanchos and the bridge crew listened briefly to the short comm by the new fleet, taking a few seconds to listen before responding.

"This is Captain Sanchos of the Amazonian Dominion frigate ADS Starlit. We are responding to a sensor pick of an abrupt drop in mass by this star of apparent no reason. Two other contact groups have been reported some distance away, and have been squaring off for some time now. If any decided to make a move towards this position, it would take some time to reach here because of the star's gravitational well, but we are taking precautions anyway and watching both contact groups. In the meantime, we have discovered an array of ancient cruiser hulks in orbit of this star and have sent three teams to inspect the nearest hulk. You are welcome to join them, we will send their locations."

On board the hulk, several Commandos had dropped in as well, along with more powerful war droids.
The Commandos, dubbed Omega Squad, were in full-concealment armor defense, their angular rifles toted in white-clad hands. Omega's leader, soldier SC-32, led his motly squad, of soldiers SC-46, 07, and 21 along the dark-lit hallway, the three initial sentry droids already further down a corridor, several war droids behind, and several others in front. A team of Elite Troopers had remained at the hull breach to hold the position.

"Stay on call, commandos." 32 told his squad, "weapons at the ready."
"Copy Boss."
"No call from the droids ahead. I wonder why..."
"What's that...there in the shadows."
"Let's move up."

The four commandos moved towards an oblong spot off to the side of the hallway, under a fallen bulkhead. 07 got his hand underneath it, lifting the bulkhead off to the side. Underneath was a large man, dead, but it looked rather recent.

"Dead guy. What killed him?"
"Look here," said 41, "something crushed the back of his skull." He flipped the man over, where his head had been mashed like a canteloupe. Red fleshy brain oozed out of the mess. "Still fresh."
"Stay alert..." said 32.

"This is Captain Sanchos of the Amazonian Dominion frigate ADS Starlit. We are responding to a sensor pick of an abrupt drop in mass by this star of apparent no reason. Two other contact groups have been reported some distance away, and have been squaring off for some time now. If any decided to make a move towards this position, it would take some time to reach here because of the star's gravitational well, but we are taking precautions anyway and watching both contact groups. In the meantime, we have discovered an array of ancient cruiser hulks in orbit of this star and have sent three teams to inspect the nearest hulk. You are welcome to join them, we will send their locations."


"Thank you very much, Captain Sanchos, I look forward to working with you. I'll authorize a Ripper Transport to dispatch to and make contact with your boarding team. In the meantime, can we establish a datalink for the use of our surveyors. I have a few techs versed in astrophysics, and I think it would be advantageous if they coordinated with your technicians to determine the reason for the loss in stellar mass. A chunk of that star went somewhere and I want to know where."

On the bridge of the Gryphon Eye, technicians prepared for the data-link, getting ready to trade raw data and any theories or conclusions collected from the crews on the ships.

On the Marine Ripper Transport (RT/s-102), the flight operator received the orders, passed them to the Battle Chief in charge of the platoon. Battle Chief Colonel Stephane, officer in command of the transport and the marines it carried, simply took a glance at the text on the screen, and laughed. "Haha! This is even better than stopping for sight seeing. We get to stretch our legs. Full speed to the hulk, send a transmission to these "amazonians" or whatever, so they know were are coming to help. While we are on that, coordinate with the Gryphon Eye for an intensive scan of the nearby hulk, I want a clear breaching point on an alternative vessel if they won't let us explore theirs. Also, if they do let us explore theirs, send a recomendation to the Gryphon Eye that a second transport land on another hulk anyway."
As the Battle Chief explained the situation to the platoon, varying exclamations of praise for the situation and some general bravado were made, followed by the classic shout of "Oorah!" by all in unison. They were thrilled... even if all they would be allowed to do is walk around, take pictures, and point their guns for procedural cover. In the meantime, it was time to strap down and prepare for extreme accelration. Fluid supported shock cages around all manned seats were practically life saving for the speeds and impacts expected for such vehicle.

The (RT/s-102) catalyzed it's uranium fuel to fusion, and the 50 megaton/second blast within the 8 engine chambers drove the 40 meter mass of metal forward at an incredible speeds, accelrating beyond the mach range an into the .xx/C ranges. At the incredible speeds it would be within range of the orbital hulks within 30 minutes.
Attempts by the (RT/s-102) to establish contact with the amazonian boarders were underway immediately.

"Confirmed," Sanchos transmitted back, "we can have scientists in comm with yours, or if you have decent science labs (we don't), we can send some over. With the boarding team, we are in contact with four commandos we sent in. You are welcome to board alongside the ship. We are transferring a live-feed of them now."

On board the vessel, the commando team continued advancing down the dimly-lit corridor, guns at the ready. 32 glanced around, sweating a bit in the enclosed suit, his arm-vibroblade ready for instant use in his arm sheath. The other commandos glanced around, walking slowly behind him.

"Boss...think I saw somethin'," 41 said nervously.
"Keep your cool, commando. Let's move up." 32 responded calmly.

The four-man squad advanced, reaching a slightly open computer junction. Slumped over a computer terminal was another man, conscious and looking about.

"What happened here?" 32 inquired emotionlessly to the man.
"They came...Jenkins went wild, and started to run about!" the man began, seeming unnerved and frantic. "Then something happened...I can't remember what...I was touched by them!"
"Who is this 'them'?" 46 asked.
"I...I..." the man said abrputly. Suddenly he leaped at 07, screaming, his arms outstretched, 07 diving for cover before the man's skull literally burst at the back, several worm-like objects ejected outward from the man's head, still screaming as brain and blood oozed out from the horrific wound.

"What the..." began 46, but then the worm creatures turned to face 07 on the ground, twirling small jaws with large teeth. 07 raised his gun, bolts flying from his rifle at the worms, the other commandos lancing out shots as the worms died from energy blasts. With the mess cleaned, 32 looked over the prone man.

"Dead. He was infected with something. Possibly a mutant strain?"
"I'm not sure, Boss," 46 continued, "what if those were like...babies...or something?"
"I'll consider it, 46." 32 said. "Let's move on."
"Lost contact with the droids. Their signatures are off. The droids behind us are still active." 21 reported.
"Copy, 21. We'll keep an eye out for them."

The commandos advanced down the hall someways, the flurry droids advancing ahead of them, their triple legs clacking on the corridor metal floors. As the droids moved into a darkened patch, a large object leaped from the shadows, grabbing one of the droids and mauling the two others. The commandos grabbed weapons, throwing energy into the dark, but the object loped off.

"We've got company..."