"I am fed up with this incompetence! That's it . . . initiate a full assault upon Harvest itself. No more town's, base's . . . this time we capture the entire planet."
As if in answer what seemed like a thousand more ship's joined the fleet out of slipspace. "Initiate self-destruct and evacuate the personnel. We evac to the surface to regroup with Assault Corps 09."
The Arbiter drew two energy sword's and twirled them in the air, twisting them into what seemed like distorted vision, causing the corpse's of Heretic's to collapse afront him. Seven Heretic Sangheili decloaked and drew their blade's, meeting the Arbiter head on. In a roar of rage he ran forward, slashing two of the creature's as he leapt into the formation. His landing caused the floor panel's to give way, causing another Sangheili to tumble into the service tunnel. Two thrust's brought another pair down, leaving only two remaining.
One of the two drew a Spartan Laser from his harness and aimed it at the ceiling squarely. The tip of the weapon gleamed a brilliant crimson, illuminating the dim corridor. His partner nodded to the Sangheili in question and retreated, falling back into cloak. The ceiling gave way as the entire corridor came down upon Ripa and company. A large MAC round hit the same area precisely, causing the shield's to give way and leaving the corridor open to space. Even as Ripa gripped a loose bar, holding on for his life, a Phantom moved in to retrieve them.
Ripa released his grip and soared into the back of the compartment, just as the exit panel flew shut upon him. The Phantom moved toward's Harvest, going into the midst of what was billion's of Phantom's and drop ship's, all making haste toward's various sector's upon the surface. The battle for Harvest had truly begun.
Grand Admiral of the Imperial Remnant.
"This one is constantly thinking, analyzing, strategizing. He showed no fear, but was curious, studying me in turn."
"All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not."
"I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own."
"Butů it was so artistically done."
―Thrawn's last words