[right][h3][sub]Aboard the Thranta-class corvette variant [i]RNS Programme[/i], approaching New Plympto[/sub]
CAPT. An'd Pund'ii[/h3][/right][hr]"We're on schedule to arrive at New Plympto within the hour, Captain." called the young officer sitting in the navigator's seat. He glanced over from his terminal as he spoke, meeting Pund'ii's gaze before swinging back to his work.
"We've confirmed our schedule with the New Plympto spatial authority, sir. We've been cleared to dock at Table station at mooring point 2." called the next young officer, this time from the communicator's seat. She offered a rushed glance over her shoulder as she spoke before promptly returning to her calls. From his perched seat overlooking the bridge of the corvette, Captain Pund'ii offered no distinct response beyond brushing one of his lekku off his shoulder as he admired the distant New Plympto. Somehow, the bridge crew must have interperted some meaning from this, as they carried on with their duties with some purpose to their maneuvers. 

For Captain Pund'ii, this meant the beginning of the lull for the journey. While the trip from Coruscant from Corellia was largely uneventful beyond the odd high-needs senator, the crew was at least in motion. After a few meetings with the Republic ambassador and other officials representing the New Plympto government, they would move on to Corellia and wait, just like they did every time. That was the relievingly unfortunate reality of flying a stateperson-variant Thranta-class corvette: less rooms, less troops, less action. For any young officers eager to cut their teeth on spatial combat, being posted to the RNS Programme was a career death sentence. For everyone else with sense, it was a dream come tru-

"Captain!" called out the sensor officer. It was the first voice of panic Pund'ii had heard in months. "Three unidentified corvette-type vessels approaching on an interception course." Pund'ii paused in thought, brushing at his lower lip with one of the fingers that rested o his chin before he shifted to stand up straight. 
"Confirm that we're running active scanning with diplomatic tags," ordered Pund'ii as he cracked one knuckle under his thumb, "and put the sensor data on the screen." It was the first time he had spoken all morning. An uneasy hush fell over the bridge crew as the distant view of New Plympto was obscured by a simplistic map. The map detailed three vessels with approximately the same signature as their own approaching in a loosely arrow-shaped formation, travelling on course to bring themselves up alongside the RNS Programme.
"Confirmed, we are running diplomatic tags." called the sensor officer, with beads of sweat starting to form on his brow. Pund'ii furrowed his own brow in thought.
"Execute comprehensive scans on the ships and attempt to hail." ordered Pund'ii, now leaning forward onto his hands. The uneasy hush over the bridge festered as the bridge crew borderline assaulted their keyboards.
"They're all Thranta-class corvettes, captain, but no ID tags transmitting from their vessels. No ID in Republic databases, either." called the sensor officer, still focused on his screen as he spoke.
"No response to hailing from the lead vessel, captain. Attempting to hail the other tw-" explained the communication officer, only to be cut short in a panic:
"We're detecting a power surge, captain! They're bringing shields and weapons online!"
[right][h3][sub]Aboard the Hammerhead-class cruiser [i]RNS Sentinel[/i], approaching New Plympto[/sub]
PVT. ████ V███████ "Vyshtal 6"[/h3][/right][hr]"All hands to general quarters, no duff. All hands to general quarters, no duff. The alert condition is now red. The material condition is now level 3. Prepare for hyperspace manoeuvres."

The alarms throughout the cruiser howled. Xadi couldn't have thrown her pazaak cards down fast enough. 

Outside of the cramped and claustrophobic room, the crew of the ship raced through the hallways. Through the small utilitarian window in the airlock door, it looked like chaos; crewmen hardly had time to screw their hats on as they barreled past one another, shouting and twisting as they went. In Xadi's own room, it wasn't much different. The small table littered with cards and cigarra stubs squealed as it scratched across the durasteel floor, almost tipped over in the squad's panic to get up. Footsteps echoed through the small room as the soldiers, who were already adorned in all of their armour bar their helmets, scrambled to race to their stations and wrench open their lockers.

The keypad beeped with each keystroke before letting out an affirmative pair and parting way. 
"What's the play, two!?" Xadi called out as she craned her head over her shoulder. From the other side of the room, another armoured soldier hoisting a jetpack over her shoulders shouted back:
"Full force in open quarters!" Artora - or 'two', the second-in-command of the team - yelled back. Xadi found her hands moving on her own as she turned her head back. This was something she had well-drilled over her three years of training. The helmet came on first, before pouches and kits found their way to their mountings and weapons found their way to their places. Black gloves adorned in white and red armour racked energy cells into weapons as they went, with a new counter came up in the corner of her helmet's display for each one. A vibrodagger followed a bullpup blaster rifle, which followed a heavy blaster pistol, which followed a set of grenades, which followed an out-of-place short matte scattergun. She twisted the ancient weapon about to begin thumbing in shots as she turned to face the cycling airlock door.

The word 'Vyshtal-1' appeared in a corner of Xadi's HUD as the last soldier walked into the room. Sergeant Marnath, the commander of the team, spoke over the squad channel as he wrenched on his own locker open.
"Listen in, Vyshtal. No less than five minutes ago, the [i]RNS Programme[/i], a Republic diplomatic envoy vessel, broadcasted a mayday signal. Allsource intelligence confirms the vessel was crippled by three corvettes in transit to New Plympto. The vessel is on a crash course for the planet as we speak. Our mission is to secure a landing zone for the marines, where we will then provide close protection for the extraction conducted by low orbital vehicles. We're operating on 'dynamic intelligence' as the crash site does not yet exist, with 3 seconds notice-to-move." Twisting about to face the team, Marnath conclusively worked the mechanism of his blaster. "Questions?"
"Dynamic intelligence..." Xadi scoffed, glancing over to another soldier - Losa, or 'Vyshtal-5', her closest friend on the team - as she spoke. Even through their helmets, they could both tell they were rolling their eyes.
"What's our vector, one?" came a dull feminine voice. The words 'Vyshtal-2' came on the HUD. 
"Conditionally lethal. There may be civilians in the area, but command wants overwhelming force against anything bearing arms." Vyshtal-1 answered, twisting about to glance over as he secured his helmet into place. "Command wants to make an example of anybody who bears arms against our diplomats. That's why they're sending us." A pause settled on the room as the six soldiers kept making themselves ready. "If the crash site is as currently projected, there will be friendly forces on the ground. Be prepared to be redirected as required. As we all know, no plan survives first contact with the enemy." 

Behind the six soldiers, the six hollow grey pillars looming dormant over the room screeched and roared before grinding open. Inside, six LOID-A - low orbit infantry department, assault variant - vehicles now waited for them. In staggered sequence, each of the soldiers pulled their doors up and set themselves into the claustrophobic pods, strapping themselves into the standing seats and racking their weapons into their slots. As Xadi strapped herself in and fastened the straps tightly about her armour, she found herself brawling with the repeating blaster emplacement that loomed above her head. That was the defining feature of the LOID-A variant: a droid-operated repeating blaster out the top, a man-operated repeating blaster out the front, and enough density to punch a hole through a bunker if it lands on one. Xadi always thought that another strap to hold the damned thing up wouldn't go amiss. 

"Last call for questions, Vyshtal team." Vyshtal-1 called, his name appearing on Xadi's HUD once again. Silence came over the team as the last man pulled the LOID-A door shut over the top of themselves. "Alright. Let's get in and out in time for lunch." Outside of the assault pods, the white lights were abruptly replaced with dim red lights, heralding the young voice over the intercom:
"All hands, prepare for hyperspace manoeuvres. All hands, prepare for hyperspace manoeuvres. Executing in ten seconds."
[right][h3][sub]Low orbit, New Plympto[/sub][/h3][/right][hr]The Thranta-class corvette suddenly burst into smoke and flames as it fell through New Plympto's orbit. It fell with all the grace of a tipping titan before it unceremoniously crashed into the ground, bursting into a mushroom of soil, steel, and flames as the impact ripped it asunder. A wave of dust and smoke heralded a shockwave of force throughout the Kourshad southern jungle, just outside of which the corvette made its crash landing. The stars bent for a moment for a much larger and much older Republic warship to barrel out of hyperspace after it, where it wasted no time manoeuvring itself into orbit above the Kourshad jungle. From the port side, which faced the planet below, six streaks of light fell and hurtled towards the burning wreckage below, like six shooting stars with the same course. There, in one of those plummeting assault pods, Xadi gripped at her seat and gritted her teeth, waiting for the seeping heat of an orbital insertion to reach her. 

No plan survives first contact with the enemy. Xadi only hoped that their timely arrival didn't make that the case for the other soldiers in the Kourshad jungle.