Star Wars: Rebellion Rising [IC/Open/Star Wars]

[Andsed]

Rodric Hethna
Mos Eisley

Rodric was sitting in one of the bars talking to some Rodian about a job

¨Okay so what do you want me to transport¨Rodric asked.

"just about 1 container of spice" the Rodian replied.

"That its OK where am I taking it" Rodric asked thinking it was weird that he was having him transport just one container for such a high payment.

" You will be taking it to the Pammant system and also be careful this stuff is very high quality and rare " The Rodian replied with then said "once you get there drop off the stuff at this warehouse" the Rodian said as he showed the place on the map.

"OK will do" Rodric replied with shaking the Rodian,s hand and standing up.

A hour later he had got the spice on his ship a modified YG-300 Light Freighter called the emerald phoenix. He figured it would be easy in and out as prepared to launch and began punching in coordinates.

[Viraliz]

The Banshee

”We are close enough now to attack them, sir.” Said Laran. Laran had once been a ship commander in the Rebellion when her ship had been sent out on a suicidal mission to slow down and imperial assault. The mission had seen most of the ships crew dead or captured by the Empire. She was lucky enough that she and some of her officers managed to avoid detection in their escape pod. Stuck in their pod with no hope from rescue by the rebellion they were by pure chance discovered by the Outcasts. Indebted both from the rescue and disillusioned by the rebels they decided to join the Outcasts and formed the core of officers on the new ship.

“Not yet. Get closer so that their shields can't protect them.” Arashas responded.
As they got closer he saw the ship on his sensors. He couldn't recognize the ship itself, but it had the typical v-shape common to most imperial ships.
“As soon as we get within docking distance I want you to aim for their engines and shield generators. Secondary priority is the weapons. While we aren't fully manned we should be able to survive a light skirmish with another ship of our size.” Arashas commanded.

Laran in turn delegated the orders to the rest of the crew and at the same time Arashas made a last transmission to the ship.
“This is the Firebrand again, we are requesting docking permission so that we can meet and discuss who you are.”

[Tribe of Rinos]

S4-Q8 - Location: Unknown
Darkness. That is all there was. Then a faint blue light began to slowly pulse. S4 tried to stand and hit something. He felt around him. He was in a box that was sealed tight. He hit what he assumed was the top of the crate. The sound echoed around the room. He began to rock the crate around the room.

[Spindle]

Dance Floor
Royal Chambers
Katchan

"Fifteen?"

Cyrene smiled at the mock-horror in his eyes as she spun out, caught, and pulled herself back in. Fifteen was far less than he'd prepared for, she knew.

"If you want it done properly." She replied, "Of course, you could always ask anyone else for the same..."

Cearlist gave her a look so wounded it couldn't be true.

"Oh, don't give me those eyes." She sighed, "We both know fifteen million is generosity on my part."

"It's still twice their going rate." Cearlist shot back.

"The price of going under the ISB's notice."

"Very well, then." He decided after a moment, "But if you try and screw us over on this-"

"I get taken down with you." Cyrene nodded, "I know how this works."

"Good. May the Force be with you."

"And with you, Cearlist."

And just like that, it was over.

He bowed, she curtsied, and then they melted back into their crowds, once more pursuing their own agendas throughout the room. As she stepped off of the dance floor proper, and back into the periphery, Cyrene wondered if there was anyone here who was just dancing for dancing's sake. It was probable - Parais was still roaming the room, searching for some hapless servant or functionary to romance - but the mechanical nature of Core dancing suited itself well to whispered conversations. Perhaps that was the point of it. Core politics were as all-consuming as they were vicious.

A waiter passed with a tray full of flutes, and Cyrene made to reach for one before realising it was Klatchian wine and rapidly aborting the gesture. The Klatchian people weren't bad, if a touch dour, but their wine left something to be desired. It was, she had been informed, an issue with the soil bacteria of the planet, and no amount of re-seeding, gene-treatment and vine importation had been able to fix it. A shame, but not one which had bothered the Imperial contingent of the gala, who quite happily flooded the event with the most expensive Core wines they could find. Indeed, the Klatchians were considering simply re-selling some of those wines this year. Cyrene didn't blame them.

Her eyes slowly crossed the room, noting details as couples twirled past, chatted, or even just glanced at each other. She saw Parais dragging some poor boy - secretary to Lieneb Turr, she thought - off into a restroom and barely managed to restrain her smirk. Turr had been relying heavily on that boy recently, and Parais knew that as well as Cyrene did. Whatever game that man was playing right now, it certainly wasn't one the ex-Moff was going to enjoy. Moving on, her eyes next alighted on Captain Castaneda - and his eyes were on her. Her back straightened slightly, her eyebrows rising, and she smiled.

Then she started picking her way through the crowds towards him.

[Ormata]

Captain Jionni Castaneda
Katchan
Katchan System

Watching Aurelia approach, Jionni gave a small smile. “You dance quite well,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly, raising it again after the pause. “And here I thought we might part ways. Shall we?” The music changed tune to a slower dance, something of a Mon Calamari origin with pipes and drums in a vapid beat. It was, indeed, a slow dance, and as per her previous offer, they began to dance. Jionni was quite careful to not let his hand slip from the small of the woman’s back, cane left aside and feet with the slight limp, despite all experience.

“Would I be incorrect in saying you are a woman of...knowledge, Ms. Aurelia? Not many would care to know a warship’s complement of fighters and even fewer would ask on it.”

---

Lieutenant Leah Pearce
Katchan
Katchan System

"Bah. You already know the answer, you feel it through the force, you already perceive your destiny. Don't ask questions, answer them for yourself."

“Funny. Heard that one before,” came a still small response, Leah shaking her head with a smile. She had heard that before, albeit from a far more dead source who stated it in a more brunt fashion. ‘Man the fuck up’ was near that, she thought, or somewhere in the same region. A little laugh came to her lips at the thought of that individual; he’d died sometime in his 60s, in his sleep, in a matter most might call ‘retirement’. Good old man, him.

“I can...take some leave. For a time.”

---

DP-20 Under Investigation
Cutlass-9 Under Investigation (1)
Concussion Missiles Under Installation (4)
Quad Laser Cannons Under Installation (4)
Double Turbolaser Cannons Under Installation (2)

---

Active

Destroyed------Damaged------Captured
3x Nebulon-B
18x Cutlass-9
1x DP-20
1x Cutlass-9

Isaac’s Wrath - Imperial-II Frigate - Damaged, Heavy, Drydock
Charyboym - Sentinel Gunship - Damaged, Light
Tririyam - Sentinel Gunship

Kilo - 10x TIE/IN - 2x Damaged, Under Repair
Viktor - 10x TIE/IN - 1x Damaged, Under Repair
Echo - 10x TIE/IN - 1x Damaged, Under Repair
Delta - 10x TIE/IN

Zulu - 10x TIE/sa, 5x TIE/IT

[Revlona]

Grand Admiral Rudolf Clixon
Aboard the Oblivion

He still heard them sometimes, it had been a while since he had ordered the murder of billions of innocents in Terminus. Yet they never really left him, in his dreams he saw there terrified faces and heard there final screams, babies sniffed out in cribs, old couples in a final embrace,little boys and girls crying for there parents one last time. He would never stop seeing them.

He looked out the bridge windows of his mandator 2, he looked at the two new ships of his fleet, the Allegiance class named the Orion and the Secutor named the Retribution.

The Orion would go too his XO, Commander Shephard, now Captian Shephard, and the Retribution would go to Captain Castaneda, soon to be Rear Admiral Castaneda.

He had ordered Castaneda to attend to come to his ship, where he would give him the good news.

[Multiversal Venn-Copard]

Violet Wing
Orto Plutonia - orbit

Full-Wing Comm Channel

V2-5: Really wish they would've given us an escort here.

V1-2: Hell, just toss the lot of us in a box, that'd be better than flying by ourselves.

V1-1: We've... made it anyway, though, and that's all we need for now.

V1-2: Thanks, Commander, I didn't realize that when we jumped out of hyperspace in front of an MC80.

A pair of X-wing fighters slammed into orbit with the characteristic thuds of realspace entrances, some thousands of kilometers above the cloud-covered surface of the frozen Orto Plutonia below. The purple-accented craft, while moving at close to full speed towards the Dawn not too far away, seemed to be taking their time; they lazily drifted to and fro as they approached, their pilots quietly celebrating their safe arrival with some fancy flying.

It was only a moment before the rest began trickling in, another X-wing or two here, a pack of Y-wing bombers there, and every so often a GR-75 transport packed to the brim with engineers and their equipment. They formed a thin line stretched across space as they thudded out of hyperspace one at a time, a bit loosely scattered but very much intact. The fighters numbered thirty-six in all, certainly not a large force by galactic standards, but they were known to be among the Rebel Alliance's best, and their arrival was hoped to be at least something of a good sign.

The brief transmission that the lead pilot in the wing sent was fairly simple:

V1-1: This is Commander Welal Jex of Violet Wing. Sorry about the poor timing, but we've been reassigned to the Dawn. We'll be making our landing approach once you're ready.

Indeed, the wing had been rather hastily reassigned; as conflicts moved across the galaxy, they'd been called away from their previous position - an orbital garrison far away in Wild Space - and moved to Admiral Johanna Ent'el's fleet. They had tried to make their escape quiet, and so they'd formed a thin trickle through hyperspace rather than forming up beforehand.

Now, though, things were quiet, and there was no imminent danger, at least for the foreseeable future.

The transports moved to dock first while the squadrons slowed down, offloading their contents as quickly as they could. Ground crew and their droids hustled out of the GR75s, retrieving landing lights, fuel pumps, and countless other tools as they exited. Behind them came the fighters; once the Dawn's carrier bays were ready, they carefully maneuvered to their landing positions one at a time.

There was a lot of work to do. With fuel tanks nearly empty and weapons not properly fitted, Violet Wing needed some time to be up to operational strength. They at least were confident, though, that the Alliance would appreciate their support once more.

[Brusia]

Colonel Martius Shan
Orto Plutonia
Alliance High Command

As the priority one message was played for those in the Conference Room to hear, Martius raised an eyebrow when the sender of the message identified himself as a Jedi and revealed his location; a risky move if he truly was who he claimed to be. There were still plenty of bounty hunters and Imperials around who would be only too happy to make a name for themselves by taking out a Jedi survivor, and an unencrypted message wouldn't be difficult to intercept. It was clear that if they were to bring this Jedi into the Rebel fold, they would need to move quickly, and to that end Mon Mothma assigned him, Eris, and Admiral Ent'el to follow up on the message. She also gave field commissions to himself and his Padawan, which despite likely being a mere formality given that they weren't assigned a command, would hopefully make further dealings with the Alliance easier.

When the meeting was dismissed, Martius followed Johanna out of the room. He could sense her anxiety begin to subside as the meeting ended, and was somewhat curious as to why a flag officer would be so nervous over a command meeting but figured he should wait to ask until they knew each other better. After boarding their transport, the Admiral gave Finn his orders while Eris spoke with Martius. When she spoke on her new rank, Martius patted her on the shoulder and stated: "Congratulations, this should provide an excellent opportunity for you to learn about leadership and responsibility; if Bespin was any indication, I have no doubt you'll excel as an officer." Martius grinned when Eris pointed out red didn't really work anymore while she asked about getting a new lightsaber, then replied: "Agreed. Kyber crystals are difficult to come by these days, but I know of a few old Temples the Empire hasn't found where we could get one for you. We should ask for temporary leave once this mission is complete; I imagine our new compatriots would be more comfortable with you having a different color blade as well."

When the transport made it back to the Dawn, Martius noticed squadrons of fighters and bombers landing in the areas formerly occupied by the munitions they had "liberated" from Bespin, most of which had been offloaded to the Rebel Base. "Glad to see we'll be getting some additional fighter support" Martius turned towards Admiral Ent'el and stated. "Should we check in with the Wing Commander and see if they've been briefed on the mission?"

[Spindle]

Dance Floor
Royal Chambers
Katchan

Cyrene glanced across as the band as the tune switched to something Mon Calamarian, before her eyes flitted back to Captain Castaneda as she slipped back into the rhythm of the dance. The thin, haunting music floated up above the swaying figures as she linked up with Castaneda and walked through the steps, brain sliding into the natural flow of politics. He wasn't here for the dance - she was convinced of that, if only because his hands were actually staying where they should have been. So when he mentioned the fighter complements again, her eyebrows only rose fractionally.

"Thank you." She nodded, a small smile on her face, "And you could say that...what is it you want?"

[Tayner]

Jedi Knight Edvar Voss
Jedi Order in Exile
Katchan, Katchan System

---

“I can...take some leave. For a time.” She said, and Voss smiled slightly.

"Good. My ship is the Granger, in dock 21-B. Meet me there when you're finished here." He said, before giving a slight bow and leaving, a gesture made to make it clear to any prying eyes that he wasn't just storming off. He left the gala, and made his way to his ship, being careful to give any guards a wide berth. When he got back to the ship Captain Hydia greeted him.

"Are we to set off, sir?" He inquired.

"No, another passenger will be joining us shortly. Although, start making calculations to travel to Imynusoph through dead space." He ordered.

"Are we to file a flight plan with the port?" Hydia asked.

"No. Just stay off the hyperlanes." Voss said, before departing to dawn some proper robes, black and brown in nature, and less flashy than the formal clothes he wore. He would return to the bridge, and stand beside Hydia's chair as he waited for Leah to arrive. If there was one thing to be understood, Voss wasn't to sit in Hydia's seat on the bridge, and she wasn't to get the ship destroyed. A mutual agreement between the two which was completed co-beneficial.

"Sir, there's an imperial officer here to see you." A ranger said. "Asking by name." Voss could already acknowledge her presence through the force as she neared the ship.

"Bring her up. I'll meet her in the conference room." He said, and he made his way to the room before sitting down in a chair at the head of the table. Once she entered, he motioned for her to sit. "Before we set out, you must understand this," he spoke sternly as he leaned forward in his chair towards her. "Your loyalties must lie with the Jedi Order. I know it doesn't mean much now, but you must follow the code, and the light side of the Force first, before anything else. This isn't just some part time job, you have to understand." He said.

---

Commander Biran Nalatracer
The Resonance, Task Force Lo
Outer Rim, Imperial Research Station

---

"We're at the coordinates, sir." The helmsman said.

"Roger, open a fleet-wide channel." He said.

<<All ships, this is Godfather, general quarters and sound off.>>

<<Vickers on deck.>>

<<Dredge on deck.>>

<<Furlough on deck.>>

<<Roger, the HVT will be arriving about... Now!>>

Just after the fleet dropped out of hyperspace, the Lambda-class shuttle they were required to capture did.

<<Engage now, but only damage her shields.>>

Nearly a dozen laser cannons and turboblaster cannons opened fire on the shuttle, and for a good 10 seconds it took the firepower, the prey didn't have much time for evasive action, being caught unaware out of hyperspace.

<<Cease fire, their shields are buckling. Vickers, you keep firing, but target their engined. Dredge, prepare to tow the shuttle into our hangar. Everyone else, prepare to jump.>>

Orders were given, and within the minute they were completed, the station defenses now coming to life and harassing the ships as they maneuvered about, and as the shuttle was tugged into the Resonance's hangar. Marines were quick to secure the hangar bay, the hatch to the hallways, and the junctions around the hangar bay to make sure their new captives weren't going to get loose. Once everything was sorted on board, the pasphrase given to the upset Noghri, and the ship started preparing for hyperspace. Aside from the assassin, nearly a dozen troopers and pilots had been captured.

Within 10 minutes of exiting hyperspace, they were back in it, returning the way they came.

[Turkducken]

Rebel General Xost Tuchigemm Den
Mon Calamari System
The X.R.A. Fleet

"I don't like this Xost, being left behind doesn't feel right." Admiral Rola Vi's hologram glowed faintly in the dark space of the General's Room. "I know this is a major offensive and we can't risk losing everything. But dammit I want to fight! We have to give it to those Imperials! I need revenge for Terminus!" General Den sat quietly facing away from the hologram, breathing apparatus removed, he sat in stern silence. "Dammit Xost listen to me! We've come to far for me to just sit quietly behind! I've lost to much! I need this." The Togruta was desperate, tears were steadily falling, as she begged the General. "Please Xost...I can't just stay here..." she began to sob. The Rebel General turned to face her hologram silently, "We cannot risk a complete annihilation, if I fail in my duty the spark of Hope that propels the Xeno Races to us shall not fall. You are that Spark." Admiral Rola began to wipe away the tears, "I am an old man Rola. Those who care about my passing have long since passed. You are an icon. A Hero to the Xeno who resist Human Tyranny. If the Fleet falls the ideas of our Rebellion will not. That is why I need you to stay." without waiting for a response, General Den ended the communication. Leaving Admiral Vi alone.

A few minutes later on the bridge of the Coward's Redoubt General Xost stood, and began to address the fleet. "Comrades, we stand before the threshold into greatness. The Tyrannical Human Empire has struck a blow against Xeno kind, Terminus has been obliterated, and we gather over Mon Cala to launch the greatest offensive against the Empire since Scarif. Xeno soldiers commanded by a Xeno commander fought and died for the Rebellion then, as we stand to fight against them now. And while our chances may be slim, our casualties may be high, but comrades know that we are the Spark of Hope for Xeno kind. If we do fall in combat, millions more across the Galaxy will rise to take our place! And if I sacrafice myself for this great Rebellion, do not mourn for me, for I am simply the first among us to explore the Great Unknown. Commanders you have your orders, Pilots you have your plans, let us begin our jump to the Pammant System. Let the Force be with us." with that, preparations began to be made for Hyperspace, and with a blink and a flash, the X.R.A. jumped away to their Destiny...

[Shadowwell]

(Image)

Commander Biran Nalatracer
The Resonance, Task Force Lo
Outer Rim, Imperial Research Station

---

"We're at the coordinates, sir." The helmsman said.

"Roger, open a fleet-wide channel." He said.

<<All ships, this is Godfather, general quarters and sound off.>>

<<Vickers on deck.>>

<<Dredge on deck.>>

<<Furlough on deck.>>

<<Roger, the HVT will be arriving about... Now!>>

Just after the fleet dropped out of hyperspace, the Lambda-class shuttle they were required to capture did.

<<Engage now, but only damage her shields.>>

Nearly a dozen laser cannons and turboblaster cannons opened fire on the shuttle, and for a good 10 seconds it took the firepower, the prey didn't have much time for evasive action, being caught unaware out of hyperspace.

<<Cease fire, their shields are buckling. Vickers, you keep firing, but target their engined. Dredge, prepare to tow the shuttle into our hangar. Everyone else, prepare to jump.>>

Orders were given, and within the minute they were completed, the station defenses now coming to life and harassing the ships as they maneuvered about, and as the shuttle was tugged into the Resonance's hangar. Marines were quick to secure the hangar bay, the hatch to the hallways, and the junctions around the hangar bay to make sure their new captives weren't going to get loose. Once everything was sorted on board, the pasphrase given to the upset Noghri, and the ship started preparing for hyperspace. Aside from the assassin, nearly a dozen troopers and pilots had been captured.

Within 10 minutes of exiting hyperspace, they were back in it, returning the way they came.

Dib'hur had been in a more conscious and alert state than he usually was in. The years that he had been in 'service' to the Empire, were largely a blur, all except for his missions. When he hunted he was in a state of high alert, noting his surroundings like some great predator, which was not too far off from what he was. The Noghri, were natural hunters and killers, they had sharp claws, fangs, powerful limbs, and keen senses. Dib'hur was no different, the only major difference between him and most other Noghri, was that he was Force Sensitive. Another difference, is that nearly all Noghri served the Empire willfully, due to his unique circumstances, he did not. He was trained to track, hunt, and kill those enemies of the Empire with some skill with the Force.

To ensure his compliance, a combination of Force Suggestion and mental programming was used to keep him in check, the Empire could not let such a dangerous and honed tool to turn against them. Their countermeasures, disillusioned him about the Empires Honor, they forced him to do tasks he would have gladly done so without them. Serving the Empire in such a way was an Honor, but their caution and wariness has had unintended consequences. When these Rebels attacked the transport he was in, he had attempted to act against them instinctively, hunting enemies of the Empire for years does that. Before his consciousness became fuzzy once again, Dib'hur hoped that they would have more Honor than his former handlers, if not, they would become prey much as those he hunted had become.

[New Roman Empire]

The Banshee

”We are close enough now to attack them, sir.” Said Laran. Laran had once been a ship commander in the Rebellion when her ship had been sent out on a suicidal mission to slow down and imperial assault. The mission had seen most of the ships crew dead or captured by the Empire. She was lucky enough that she and some of her officers managed to avoid detection in their escape pod. Stuck in their pod with no hope from rescue by the rebellion they were by pure chance discovered by the Outcasts. Indebted both from the rescue and disillusioned by the rebels they decided to join the Outcasts and formed the core of officers on the new ship.

“Not yet. Get closer so that their shields can't protect them.” Arashas responded.
As they got closer he saw the ship on his sensors. He couldn't recognize the ship itself, but it had the typical v-shape common to most imperial ships.
“As soon as we get within docking distance I want you to aim for their engines and shield generators. Secondary priority is the weapons. While we aren't fully manned we should be able to survive a light skirmish with another ship of our size.” Arashas commanded.

Laran in turn delegated the orders to the rest of the crew and at the same time Arashas made a last transmission to the ship.
“This is the Firebrand again, we are requesting docking permission so that we can meet and discuss who you are.”

Siln & Corana

"Something still doesn't feel right, target that ship and if anything happens open fire. Aim for their engines then their weapons if they should fire, send them a message to dock at port 3. I want a group of people there weapons ready, we still dont know if they are truly rebels or just pirates who found the message. Corana manage things here. Should the worst happen like if they start to shoot, lock the area around us down and contain them if at all possible," he concluded as he turned around and walked off the bridge and down the lift.

Corana's jaw dropped, "You cant be serious you are going to let them dock with the ship?" Though the door to the lift had already closed she rolled her eyes and walked over to the console and waited for the show to begin. Siln made his way over to the docking tube with a group of the crew who had their weapons ready.

"If anything happens be prepared to fire back," Siln advised as he took a forward position closer to the docking tube with his hand on his light saber but, he wasn't going to taken any chances with the ship or the crew.

[Whalestron]

Johanna and Eris
The Dawn

Eris smiled at Martius, clearly pleased. It seemed as though she was starting to enjoy being on the side of the Jedi. She was excited to go to one of the temples, having only gone to one in her lifetime. The one she'd gone to was a sith one, derelict and almost inaccessible. She'd hated it. She carried herself differently, now, walking with a confident stride.

Johanna had been lost in her head, thinking hard about the mission to come while they walked. She was only brought back to reality when Martius asked about briefing the fighter squadrons. She cleared her throat, "that won't be necessary. Finnick will be briefing his squadron while we head to the bridge. I expect you two will be joining him, though." She said as they reached a pair of blast doors. "In fact... yes, I believe it would be wise to have the two of you meet him now before the mission actually begins. I believe there's a pair of ships for you. Modified, of course, to better suit their previous status."

"Why would we need upgraded fighters?" Eris asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Johanna almost grinned, "I'm afraid resources can be scarce at times. You'll have to make these ships work until we can get you new ones. Unless, of course, you end up enjoying them."

With that, Johanna continued to the bridge. From there, she gave orders to her officers on deck. "We've received the coordinates," Johanna announced. "Let's get going before our new allies meet some unwelcome company." The ship launched into hyperspace, headed straight for the Amber's given coordinates.

[Ormata]

Captain Jionni Castaneda
Katchan
Katchan System

"Thank you." She nodded, a small smile on her face, "And you could say that...what is it you want?"

“A dangerous question, that,” came the whisper in her ear. It was a playful thing, however, in that playful tone reserved for teasing, making little jokes. “Currently I want to dance without a limp, but...well. That never will happen. I would, however, take you to be a person with certain connections.”

"Certain contacts, yes." She agreed, "But not unlimited ones."

“Of what kind?”

"Business. Industry. Moffs. Whatever I need at the time. I have shares in the Cyrynth Conglomerate - that helps things."

Jionni thought it just a little odd; connections towards Moffs were a dangerous thing for such a person, to be fair any person, to have. They had power and were, for the most part, damned arrogant about using said power in whatever they wanted. Business connections made sense, however, and industry...that could prove useful for later. Construction always did have it’s place. “Anyone connected towards, say...Imperial Supply? The point of the matter is that, well...they are remarkably slow, you know. They need a small push now and again.”

"And you want me to provide that push? Imperial Supply has a dim view of that."

"Twisting arms is a careful form of diplomacy. Besides, I'm sure I could make it worth your time." A small idea formed in his mind.

"How so?"

"Well, what do you want?"

"That depends on what you want, Captain. Money is my generally preferred reward for services, but exact denominations vary based on what it is you need."

“Armor. The Katarn-class, Mod III, specifically. It’s quite a bit of work, you see, and far better than anything the Empire supplies.”

"Of course. How many, where and when?"

Well, that was easier than one might think. Katarn-class was one of the more durable things the Republic made during her war years, capable of withstanding light laser cannon shots and vacuum, shrugging-off some blasts as though it was rain. Specially made for Republic Commando units by Kaminoan Armorsmiths, it was quite a thing that Jionni very much wished for.

"Two thousand, here, really as soon as all possible."

"Of course." She sighed, "Three hundred million."

“I take it that there’s nothing else that might satisfy you?” The song ended, both walking from the dancefloor.

"Unless you happen to have a Star Destroyer hidden away somewhere."

For a moment she considered that.

"Actually, no. I don't want to have to explain that away."

“Well. I’ll think on the price. Get back to you later.”

The Next Day…

He had ordered Castaneda to attend to come to his ship, where he would give him the good news.

Jionni came aboard the Oblivion and he had to say that she was quite the ship. A Mandator II, the warship was one of those that was neatly a city in space, floating-along to murder whatever it felt like. The amount of personnel was astounding, though she still felt of the old world, those days of the Republic. It was likely she was built during those periods, too. Yet a pit was in his stomach.

He’d done a lot of damage during the Terminus operation, destroyed three vessels his ship’s equal near moments after exiting hyperspace, took a DP-20, yet he had also done so without direct permission, without informing Admiral Clixon. The Imperial Navy, at times, viewed poorly on singular initiative in it’s captains, and that grew a worry in him. It could be a commendation for his service, for the damage he did, for the information he gained, yet it also could be a punishment coming.

The Coruscanti arrived on the warship’s bridge, to meet with the man.

---

Lieutenant Leah Pearce
Katchan
Katchan System

“Before we set out, you must understand this," he spoke sternly as he leaned forward in his chair towards her. "Your loyalties must lie with the Jedi Order. I know it doesn't mean much now, but you must follow the code, and the light side of the Force first, before anything else. This isn't just some part time job, you have to understand." He said.

“Understood,” came her reply, and Leah kept her thoughts hidden from the Jedi. The Sith spoke little on how to fry a man, how to force someone to disembowel themselves, how to rip information from a mind, but they did express some concern on how an individual was to be once they left Dromund Kaas. They gave knowledge, taught her how to shield her thoughts, how to hide herself in the Force, and these methods, though old, were still supremely effective.

“My loyalties will lie there. Don’t worry about that.”

[Revlona]

Cowrite with Ormata
Grand Admiral Rudolf Clixon
Aboard the Oblivion

Looking over to see Captain Castaneda walk into the bridge, Clixon stood and walked over, he waited for the man to salute him so he could salute back and get things under way. Clixon had decided earlier to tease the man and lead him on until finally breaking the news of his promotion.

He had grown to respect the man because of his accomplishments, and was thrilled to have him officially under his command.

Captain Castaneda saluted, as per procedure, saying nothing.

Saluting back Clixon said, "Follow me to my quarters" and began walking to his quarters.

When they had arrived at his quarters, Clixon took a seat and motioned for Castaneda to sit as well. He looked out the window of his quarters looking at the two new ships in his fleet, "beautiful aren't they?" He said to Castaneda

"Yes, sir, quite beautiful," Jionni responded, looking out of the viewport. One was a Secutor, a fleet carrier that reminded him much of the old Venators with it's bridge structure high above the flat decks, while the other was an Allegiance, a warship which looked as though someone took an Imperial I and stretched her out, plated-up the hangar bays. Both were larger vessels, easily larger, and the question put the young man on edge.

Nodding at his response, Clixons voice grew suddenly somber, "Your actions at Terminus had a mixed response, many lauded you as a hero saying that if not for you, there would have been no victory, others have called you a troublemaker, as your orders did not state for you to singlehandedly engage a portion of the rebels fleet, and as you know, the fleet has no need of trouble makers. Don't you agree?"

"Of course, sir" Castaneda said

Clixon nodded again, then suddenly smiled, "It's a good thing that I don't regard you as a troublemaker, your ship singlehandedly took out a portion of the enemy fleet and even managed to capture an enemy ship." Standing up and going towards the window motioning for the man to join him. "What would a man who has accomplished so much wish his reward to be?" Clixon said

"Merely better tools to bring my foes to their knees, sir. That's all that I wish," replied Jionni; to express his wishes to better protect his troops, no, that wasn't how the desire was to be framed, that wasn't the proper way. To better destroy the enemy, that was how the desire was to be framed in it's own way.

"I can do that for you" Clixon said while reaching out his hand to give the man something. "Congratulations Rear Admiral Castaneda, the Retribution is yours." He said as he opened his hand to reveal the rank of rear admiral in his hand.

"Thank you, sir. I'm honored." Castaneda said

Nodding, Clixon said "You are dismissed"

[Multiversal Venn-Copard]

Commander Welal Jex
The Dawn

The hangar bay was a chaotic place; power cables lay hastily strewn across the floor, engineers pulling them around from fighter to fighter, while pilots made quick repairs on the components with damage from space travel. Droids marched out of the transports rather haphazardly; a line of gonk droids stumbled past, engineers leading the stupid automatons around the area, while a binary loadlifter carried a stack of crates full of wrenches and laser cyclers. Power tools of innumerable sorts turned the hangar into an echoing noise chamber, muffling most normal conversation - except for the occasional shout.

“Commander!”

The voice came from the upper level of the hangar, where Violet Wing’s third-in-command, the Sullistian Talsio Maguun, was peering at what looked like a systems panel of some kind.

“Did we just jump into hyperspace?”

Commander Jex stopped for a second in shock. The Admiral here hadn’t even told someone to let the fighter wing know of this ship’s imminent departure, not even when it was barely minutes after the last fighters had landed. He vowed to ask whoever was in charge of this operation about what was going on.

“I’ll gather up the wing and give a briefing once I get back,” he replied after a moment, walking at a brisk pace towards the elevators for the bridge.

He figured that, being an old commander, he’d at least be tolerated up on the bridge, and that people wouldn’t ask too many questions when they saw the wrinkled, furtive sort of man hurrying for the lift and murmuring to himself as he pressed one of the buttons there.

Always on the move. All the younger folk hurtled from one big dramatic moment to the next. Nobody ever slowed down anymore. He grumbled some more as he exited the lift and stepped onto the bridge, approaching Admiral Johanna and Colonel Martius with a salute and a question:

“Admiral, Colonel. Commander Jex of Violet Wing, reporting. I’d like a situation report. What’s our trajectory, and what’s the reason for the rush?”

---

Vahi Khetaai
Dawn Hangar

“Gonk.”

A power droid trundled past Vahi to her side as she was staring up at her bomber, her careful inspection of an exterior mechanical bolt getting rather disappointingly interrupted by the droid’s crude voice. It did manage to snap the girl out of her trance, though; she realized that the engineers were all still unloading their gear, and that it’d probably be for the better to clean up this particular spot. She reached her arm to the side and patted the droid on the head with one hand, while using her other to unhook some tools from one of the few functioning tool racks in the hangar and slot them into her flight suit’s belt.

“Hey, little guy, I need you to stop for a minute.”

“Gonk?” The droid obediently froze in place.

Thermal projector, macrowrench, hypercavitator... they didn’t have a hypercavitator, of course. With a sigh, Vahi climbed up the ladder along the side of the Y-wing, approached the wonky bolt, and got to work. She burned off the micrometeorite dust that the dislodged bolt had accumulated, which was easy enough, and then with the macrowrench’s power cord attached very firmly to the cheap gonk droid’s socket - she’d made quite sure of that - she very slowly started tightening the bolt.

Things were going fine for about twenty or thirty seconds until she realized the cord was tightening, glanced behind her, and saw the gonk droid meandering away, it having dutifully obeyed her command to stop for an exact amount of time.

The macrowrench was too securely fixed to the bolt, and the power cable wasn’t going anywhere. The Y-wing, although somewhat hastily clamped down, certainly wouldn’t move... so that left one main option.

CRUNCH.

“Gonk?!”

Vahi just shook her head and finished tightening the bolt. Of course the droid had fallen over.

And she still didn’t have a hypercavitator.

[Revlona]

Grand Admiral Rudolf Clixon
Aboard the Oblivion
Terminus System

"Prepare lightspeed jump to Camaoli do, sir, a total of six System between us and Eriadu." The Navigation officer said.

Nodding, Clixon walked to the communication room and ordered for the room to be cleared. He then waited for his near 40 captains to appear 1 by one as holograms.

"Jump shall begin immediately, stay in formation with Orion on Oblivions port and Retribution on her starboard. Watch your fire, the PGF ships are clearly marked and any ships not marked with PGF symbols are marked civilian unless they engage us, any attacks on non combatants will not be tolerated. I want this clean and quick, Eriadu shall be in the empires grasp soon." Clixon said



--------------------
25 minutes later
--------------------
The fleet of near 160 ships jumped away in a flash of light.

[Brusia]

Colonel Martius Shan
The Dawn

When Eris grinned, Martius smiled in return, happy to see that his new Padawan seemed to be in a better state now than she was when he'd first met her. When the Admiral informed him that a separate briefing wouldn't be necessary and that they'd be briefed along with Finnick and his squadron on the Bridge, he nodded and followed her off the transport and through the Dawn's corridors. When the Admiral then informed them they'd be getting a pair of modified ships, Eris responded in her usual straightforward manner, after which Martius stated: "Thank you Admiral, I'm sure they'll be more useful in a fight than my old shuttle."

When they arrived on the Bridge, Martius stood back and observed the crew as Johanna gave them their orders and looked out the viewscreen as the stars appeared almost to rip past them when they entered into hyperspace. A short time later the new Wing Commander entered into the room and after a crisp salute introduced himself as Commander Jex of Violet Wing, then asked for a sitrep. As the Admiral seemed to be a good deal busier than he was at the moment, Martius figured he'd take the question and after returning the man's salute replied: "At ease Commander. Apologies for not briefing you earlier, but time is of the essence on our current mission." When Finn and the other flight officers arrived a few moments later, Martius began the briefing:

"Alright everyone, as some of you may have heard, we recently received a message from a man named Siln Tarkin claiming to be a Jedi Knight and offering to join up with the Rebellion and sending a set of coordinates for a rendezvous in deep space. The problem is, he didn't send the message over a secure channel or provide us with means to reply to his message, so High Command wants us to get there as soon as possible and bring him back to base before every Imperial and two-bit bounty hunter looking to make a name for themselves by killing a Jedi shows up in our stead. Of course, there's also the possibility this is a trap, which I imagine is likely why Violet Wing was just assigned here. With any luck, this will just be a quick extraction mission, but as usual it's best to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Are there any questions?"

[The Empire of Tau]

Outer Rim Territories
Seswenna Sector
Eriadu System
Eriadu
Bulwark Mark III, Potekmin

Waking in a cramped bunker room with many other marines, Gustmisa gets up and dresses himself accordingly. After taking a small swing of his water canteen, Gustmisa heads over the cafeteria for breakfast. Although the food was of bad quality, it was better than not eating. Finishing up his food, Gustmisa throws away his trash and leaves the cafeteria. From there, he heads over to the lower decks of the Potekmin to run repair and maintenance jobs on the ship. For a few hours, him with the rest of the onboard engineering core went to work on ensuring that this mobile fortress runs smoothly. Done with his current shift, Gustmisa heads up the middle decks to the engineering bay, assisting in teaching a group of newly recruited guys in the engineering core for 8 hours. Heading the cafeteria again, Gustmisa goes for his share of lunch before running around the ship to fulfill maintenance and fix orders for 5 hours. And with that, Gustmisa finishes off his routine on the Potekmin as he goes off to his shitty little bunker to sleep, while the other lot of staff and crew being to wake to maintain the ship. For now, events are uneventful althrought tense.

[Andsed]

Rodric Hethna
The rumbling of the ship coming out of light speed woke Rodric from his light nap. He looked up and saw the planet of Pammant. As he approached the planet he glanced to his left and spotted his lightsaber hilt sitting on one of the chair. He debated bringing with him one side of him said it was to dangerous to bring it the other side said it might come in handy and this won´t take long it is only one container to a warehouse nearby. So he decided to bring figuring what could go wrong.

He grabbed his dl-18 and holstered it he also holstered his saber but he had it hidden underneath his shirt. He kept a speeder on his ship for missions like these so he got the spice loaded up on it and with it exited the ship.

The first part went great he found the warehouse dropped the stuff off got paid and went back to town. But while returning to his ship he dropped a valuable necklace which he realized right after he got in his ship.

So he went back out to grab it he found it but he bumped into a stormtrooper that was having a really bad day it seems because the stormtrooper began shouting at him which attracted another stormtrooper and a officer who tried to arrest him.

¨Well this if fun Rodric muttered under his breath¨

As he tried to explain that it was just an accident the men went into arrest him so he pulled out his pistol shot all 3 of the men. But this got the attention of other stormtroopers as 4 blocked the way to his ship and about 7 others were running to his location to blast him. Rodric manged to get to cover but got pinned down. Seeing as he could not win this fire fight and he had no real way to escape he knew he had to use his saber and the force to get out of this. So knowing he really did not have another option beside getting shot ignited his saber and using the force jumped out his cover at the 4 soldiers blocking quickly slicing them down and while blocking the blast from the other stormtroopers got on his ship and took off.

While he was attempting to go into light speed he was fired at by patrolling tie fighters which along with the ground forces alerted the star destroyers who began sending out more tie fighters forcing Rodric to do a u turn and after losing the ties land and wait since he was sure the empire was watching for him to try and leave or trying to hunt him.

[G-Tech Corporation]

The Cage, Pammant

It was an average day in the starlanes for Gershwin, monitoring the autofeeds aboard the Downfall as the shipbrain spooled new segments of its lethal payload out into the void. Just regular gruntwork, watching the punctuated flickering of the indicator lights, the cargo hold status bar slowly emptying, and requesting topups from the Breaker as their orbits coincided. It was good steady work, the type the Empire paid well but not too well for trained engineers to perform- the wage packet was nothing like what those Deathstar jockies had pulled down, for sure. But Gershwin was still here, and still happily alive, and that was enough for him. A few more indicator lights blinked, and other munitions slipped away, slowly arming as they joined the constellation of detritus that was the Cage.

Routine business. Until the sensors on the Downfall lit up like an Algarvian Yule-mule in heat with unlogged signatures, and the Cage’s layers began detonating, filling the small minelayer’s front viewscreen with lurid hues of red and blue.

Pammant Defense Fleet, Pammant High Orbit

They came in out of nowhere, from the direction of Mon Cala, five squadrons of starfighters materializing from hyperspace with almost no warning save the jangling of the jump-sensors in the defense fleet for a few moments prior to the arrival. Near the edge of the planet’s gravity well facing the hyperlane, as close as even a good pilot would dare jump, and they were not here to parley. The watch officer aboard the Indominable took in the tapestry of X-Wings, Y-Wings, and B-Wings for a half-second, and then snarled at an ensign.

“Alert Admiral Needa. Rebels jumping in at sector seven in force. We are engaging.”

The bridge below where the watch officer stood was filled with the babble of orders in moments, officers calling out fire control instructions, demanding fighters be launched, and redirecting both the existing patrols and quiescent fleet elements towards the rebels. They were too far away from the Imperial fleet for turbolasers or heavy armaments to be effective yet, but the Patrol Fleet was not without other assets. Even as the rebels began closing the distance, escort ships boiled forward alongside swarms of screaming TIE fighters and interceptors, Tartans, Raiders, and others looking for a fight and more than happy to tangle with the Rebel assault. Their numbers were swiftly added to from the various hangar bays of the Star Destroys, carriers, and lighter vessels, and as Admiral Needa stepped on deck and took stock of the situation he felt confident. The fighter complement of his Star Destroyers alone outnumbered the attackers heavily, and they were unsupported by any ships of size. Already scattered volleys of missiles from the Pammant defense installations and his Broadsides rippled through the Rebel squadrons. They could not have hoped for victory with such a force- so where was the rest of it?

Then one of the comms officers sang out.

“Admiral, Captain Flinders in the Cage reports a heavy rebel presence. Squadrons of fighters and bombers.”

Ah. The Cage.

The Cage, Pammant System

It was aptly named, the rough ad-hoc but fearsomely lethal installation which Taskforce Stonewall had erected along the Mon Cala hyperlane trajectory. A Ceya-class gravity well station at its heart was the lynchpin of the whole operation, built of prefabricated parts shipped in for the necessary quick assembly. Supporting her were two missile platforms, laconically named M-One and M-Two by the engineers and gunners assigned to them, and two auto cannon platforms, similarly creatively titled. Armored, shielded, they were the meat of the Cage, but far from her only claws- as the main body of interlopers had already discovered.

For, you see, once the int-eff trackers had noted the unidentified first squadrons jumping in, the normal pulse-pattern well generation protocols set up by Captain Flinders to save on fuel had been tossed out of the window. The interdiction station was on full wartime crash protocols in moments, and thus the main body of the Rebel assault force, all save the first five squadrons, had ploughed straight into the bars that gave the Cage its monicker; a hefty array of layers of ion mines, limpets mines projectors, proximity explosives, and scattered Defender ion mines. As they passed through hyperspace towards Pammant they were rudely yanked back into the all too visceral void between these layers of mines, this halo of death which surrounded the gravity well station. Already bolts of blue energy from the near-invisible cloaked Defender mines struck milling Rebel vessels, and the shifting orbital patterns of the minefield around them showed the attackers that the true danger was only beginning. Shooting their way in to disable the gravity well station would be bloody against the station’s defenders and the light mind orbits in that direction, and shooting their way back out would be a matter of time, time which could cost lives and all too many difficult-to-replace ships.

The blockade of Mon Cala was of great importance to Admiral Needa and High Command. Interlopers were to be persecuted with prejudice. As the Downfall and her sister ships hastily pulled away from the Cage, making for the relative safety of the Beltway and her patrols, the Second Battle of Pammant began in earnest.

[Ormata]

Rear Admiral Jionni Castaneda
Katchan
Katchan System

Jionni returned to his vessel, packing whatever he had in his room in a seabag and a shuttle over to the Retribution. There was no big speech, no announcement of his exit, nothing of the sort. No, it was a quiet exit without the drums and fanfare. Nearly no crew was on the vessel, most getting accommodations on the planet. Despite the training and nature of the vessel, always loud with night shifts, getting away from it was to some comforting. He packed it all away, coming aboard the Secutor like a newborn Ensign.

Setting himself up was easy enough, and the Rear Admiral came upon the bridge. It reminded him heavily of the older war vids from the Clone Wars without the same faces and same gray uniforms, without the brown robes standing aside the rest.

“Captain on deck!” The bridge erupted into standing, all at attention, all the faces of men and women who mostly belonged in the Core Worlds but who had fought in the Navy more than enough. Their faces seemed angular, hard eyes and short hair under covers and looking past Jionni, onto bulkheads and colored buttons.

“As you were.” Was the response, crew going back to work.

He clicked his cane across the bridge, coming to the XO. It was a brief talk, one devoid of the pleasantries or familiarity of Jionni’s old ship. Both were cold, clinical in that way one does when they are unsure of the other and much interested in staying out of the way, staying respectable. One doesn’t try to be familiar or kind when doing so could be considered poor, when doing so might land in hot water. The XO was like that. Jionni was the same, simply because he didn’t know the man. It was a talk on crew capabilities, on the ship, on how very good they were during the last campaign or drill, a humble boast in some ways. For pilots of Corellian origin, they were good, independent-thinking and good at their jobs, and Jionni appreciated that. Men from just the Academy tending to lean on the side of caution. He needed better.

The assault command was a good surprise. Sentinel-class gunships with cloaking devices, well...that would be a glory to behold. A thousand and a half troops at any position, any place, just there. Those devices, well, they were great methods for inserting a dagger into an enemy’s side. He would have good fun implementing those in his plans.

A communication came in.

"Jump shall begin immediately, stay in formation with Orion on Oblivions port and Retribution on her starboard. Watch your fire, the PGF ships are clearly marked and any ships not marked with PGF symbols are marked civilian unless they engage us, any attacks on non combatants will not be tolerated. I want this clean and quick, Eriadu shall be in the empires grasp soon."

“Comms, bring me on the speaker. I want a talk.”

“Aye, sir, you’re on.”

“This is Rear Admiral Castaneda, your new CO. We are approaching Eriadu, homeland for the People’s Galactic Federation. All hands, all hands, General Quarters. All squadrons are to be on alert. Marines to their assembly areas. This will be your first demonstration of what you can do to me. Make it a good one.”

That was all.

“Sir,” The Weapons Officer spoke-up, “Enemy fleet positions are in. We’re jumping to...sir, following ships will be within range. CR-90, portside 50 degrees, down 20, Ton-Falks at both our Port and Starboard side, 30 degrees and 70, 10 degrees up. What’s the first target?”

“Feed coordinates of those damn carriers. I want them dead before the Captains can blink. Flight Officer, I want every single one of yours in space before we finish our jump. You know what to do from there.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I want the 121st ready to launch as well. Direct insert...on one of their Providence-class warships. Get them into the hangar. Take her down the greater normal manner.”

“Aye, sir.”

The Retribution came through Hyperspace, barreling along with the fleet. Unlike the last, Jionni would stay along with them; doing anything else would abuse the strength that came from numbers, would place his ship farther from the battle and blunt his fighters’ ability to cause rapid damage before the enemy might scramble their fighters into action. They needed to hit them and hit them hard to take advantage of the chaos and issues. The only issue was that they needed to destroy those hard-hitting capital ships before they might turn their guns to engage the Retribution. The class wasn’t so durable and Jionni hated losing crew.

Hangar Bay

“Everyone, gather around. Raidus, you will be hitting these warships, Semti has here, here, and here. The rest of you will be punching a damn hole through whatever defenses and skirmishers they throw-up to stop us. Bombers, your targets will be the enemy Bulwarks. They’re hard as hell, so a few runs will have to suffice. Now, everyone, your TIEs have been equipped with missiles launchers, proton torpedos. You’ve all ran the simulations and I guarantee that these pilots will not be as potent as those bastards. Do your jobs. Dismissed.”

The group crowded about the nav station dispersed, pilots putting their helmets on as sealing their flight suits as they jogged to their fighters and bombers, lined-up and ready to take-off. They closed the cockpits, mechanics and servicers disconnecting coolant lines to some fighters, prepping them for launch even as the blue swirls of hyperspace passed by, just outside the launch bay doors. Marines boarded the Sentinels in their white armor and oxygen packs before the aft doors closed and the vessels’ cloaking devices activated, each one disappearing in a shimmer.

It began.

The fleet jumped from hyperspace into the midst of the PGF forces, fighters launching even before the sublights kicked-in and turbolaser salvos pouring from the Star Destroyers like rain on Coruscant. Ion cannons fired from them, knocking-down corvettes and smaller craft with their heavy blows, and as blue space turned black the squadrons of the Retribution came to life, ion engines spooling as they shot-away. The 121st left with a whisper, engines firing without a trace as they came upon the enemy.

The Federation fleet was impressive, scattered among the stars as they were like grains of rice, some massive and imposing and most small, yet the fighter squadrons came screaming down, setting themselves upon the escorts and smaller craft, ripping-through them with banks and heavy maneuvers like swordsmen. One shuddered and shook, hitting themself to the top of an X-Wing that was coming-about to hit the bombers. He fired-off his torpedo at close range and there was no saving from that strike, the enemy fighter exploding in bits of wing and torn hull.

Events of the same happened, again and again, across the battlefield. The Retribution fired at will against her two targets, pulling the once-transports with a vicious fury. Their shields lit-up like two stars, taking the punishment before cutting-out as they were broken. A Victory II joined-in with the attack, her fire burning into the open hangar bays and cutting-through the former freighters’ hulls as they explosively decompressed.

The rest of the fleet took the lead, turbolasers hitting the carriers first with the simply intent of cutting-away the Rebel’s few advantages against the Imperial fleet, their starfighters. The Quasar Fire class and Ton Falk class were both formerly freighters, both chosen as carriers for their ability to carry fighters and bombers and not for any sort of shields or armor. They were chosen for cost and, as such, suffered from it. The withering fire from each Star Destroyer tore them to pieces. Like little bursts, Ten popped within seconds.

Cannon fire from the ion cannons, however, sparked across the enemy fleet, scattered and only most of the larger craft which might hold a candle to a warship’s firepower. Crippling the fleet was only the start as the TIE/IN squadrons from Jionni came-in, flying fast and skirting against the enemy’s hulls to break apart their fields of fire, to force corvette captains to question attempting to open fire for fear of hitting their own warships. Some did. Some didn’t.

Torpedoes were fired at point-blank range against the enemy warships, the sublights and hyperdrives of a dozen cruisers down as the strikes began. The bombers of the Retribution took a similar approach, guided-in by two Raider II-class corvettes on their flank for protection from enemy fighters, and they approached the Bulwarks.

The Battle of Eriadu commenced.

---

Tuuqosh Droqr
Dawn Hangar

The Gand was taking his daily walk, listening to the greater world and the greater people about him. He liked taking such walks through the vessel, if anything for the purpose that there wasn’t much else to do. It stretched out his limbs, besides that, which really could get cluttered and cramped if he sat around for too long. Was nice exercise, Tuuqosh supposed, and far better than anything else he could get. He’d tried electrical stimulants, once. Nearly punched himself. It was a sobering experience.

He walked-past the pilots, mechanics working on their respective craft before coming-upon one who was having trouble. Wielding a little device connected to a nearby Gonk droid, it had fallen-over, the cord tight as wire. She seemed indifferent towards it. Sighing, Tuuqosh righted it, telling the accursed thing, “Stay put until I say leave.”

“Gonk.”

“Good boy,” The Gand replied, patting the durasteel casing and looking-up at the girl working on her bomber. “Need any help?”

[Tayner]

Jedi Knight Edvar Voss
Jedi Order in Exile
Katchan, Katchan System

---

“My loyalties will lie there. Don’t worry about that.” She said. Edvar gave her a long look, studying her face, and her thoughts. He couldn't find any reason not to trust her. He leaned back in his chair, and thought for a second, looking out of a nearby viewport, into the void of space. He sighed, stood up, and walked over to the glass, and cleared his throat.

"Get rid of that uniform. There 'ought to be some robes in the ship's cargo that fit you. Once you're outfitted we'll go over some meditation techniques. It's about a day to Imynusoph, you'll learn some basic meditation and start studying the Jedi Code. I'll show you to your quarters, we'll do lessons there." He said, before looking at her. "Go." He said, waiting for her to begin the search for the robes.

He could be poetic about it, saying it was her first challenge, to find a needle in a haystack, but he didn't bother. It was a menial task, something that a Jedi would have to become acquainted with.

---

Commander Biran Nalatracer
The Resonance, Task Force Lo
Orto Plutonia, Pantoran System

---

"Leaving hyperspace now." The helmsman said.

"Bloody Malachor, where's the fleet?" The OOD said. "Scanners are empty, not even an X-Wing."

"Open hailing channels, see if you can raise the base." Biran said, and the communications officer began hailing the base. Soon a hologram appeared on the bridge, it was Mon Mothma. "Ma'am-"

"Commander, sorry for the haste, but have you completed your mission?" She started.

"Yes ma'am." He said.

"Good. An intelligence leak has forced the fleet to disperse. While Admiral Ackbar and General Madine have already departed separately, I am still in the base with a few last junior officers and security guards. You're to land and pick us up before choosing a random set of coordinates ten light years from here and to head to, before heading to a set of rendezvous coordinates I will provide." She ordered.

"Aye ma'am, give us a few minutes to land." He said before motioning to end the transmission. "OOD, you know what to do." Biran said.

"Aye, helm, take us down to the base. Prepare to land. Be ready for immediate boarding and re-launching. Have an officer ready to greet her. Let's be quick about it." He started to order. His orders were quickly acknowledged with 'aye's, and within ten minutes the Commander in Chief was on board. "Hail the Task Force, have them meet at these coordinates." He said, tapping on his data pad while they ascended into orbit. "Go ahead and start calculations."

Mothma was quick to join the bridge crew. "We'll be gone in minutes, ma'am." Biran said.

"Very well." She said.

"Ma'am, did you scuttle the facility?" Biran asked.

"Of course, we wiped the databases and in about three minutes the entire base is rigged to explode." She said.

"We'll be around long enough to register it on our scopes before we leave then." The OOD said.

"Good." Biran said, and in a couple minutes they detected the facility on the surface explode, and in another minute they entered hyperspace. It wasn't until they exited again before they re-entered hyperspace, although their destination was unknown. In hours they arrived on Hoth, a remote frozen desert. It wasn't until later when Mon had briefed Biranof it's significance.

Apparently earlier in the year they discovered the planet, remote and off of the beaten path. Not soon after the corps of engineers descended upon the planet. While they didn't have the base completed, they had enough set up to establish the base there, however the fleet has been dispersed to avoid HIGHCOM and the whereabouts of the main fleet being discovered simultaneously. Their passengers would be picked up by a shuttle shortly, including their Nohrgi captive, who would soon be interviewed by some rebel intelligence officers.

Meanwhile, Biran had some time to think of his next move, now relieved of his taxi duties for HIGHCOM.

[Spindle]

Bridge
ISS Dominion
Parnark Outer Orbit

The blue swirl of hyperspace vanished into the stream of starlines, which themselves resolved into a planet directly ahead of them; dirty-brown, scabbed with strip-mines and long-abandoned industrial facilities and darkened with rolling thunderstorms. It was a long-dead world, nothing but a handful of lowlifes and ne'er-do-wells clinging to its cracked and broken crust nowadays. Back during the Clone Wars, however, it had been a thriving world which worked heavy industry to a degree which few other Outer Rim planets could contend with. The Republic had scoured that away, of course, but someone had apparently reactivated one of the droid factories on its surface. It wasn't the first time someone had tried this sort of thing. It wouldn't be the last, either. But Cyrene had found this one. And she wanted it.

"Are you certain it is this planet?"

Captain Kerillian cut an imposing figure: tall, swarthy and wearing an Imperial Officer's uniform which was almost certainly non-regulation but certainly added an air of menace.

"I'm certain, Captain." Cyrene assured him, "What do your sensors tell you?"

"Nothing we didn't already know." Kerillian growled, "A few dozen outposts scattered across the planet - lowlife scum, the lot of them."

"So overlay your readings with the locations of known Confederacy industrial sites." Cyrene shrugged, pulling out a datapad, "I have them on-"

"We know what we're doing, Miss Aurellia." Kerillian cut her off, "Most of those settlements are located directly on top of old Separatist facilities."

"Of course." Cyrene nodded slowly, "May I see the data myself?"

For a moment Kerillian looked as if he was about to deny her, then a look of realisation crossed his face and he beckoned another woman over. Her face was severe, matching her drab uniform as Kerillian said something to her, then gestured to Cyrene. The woman glanced across, nodded, and departed, producing a datapad.

"Miss Aurellia?" She asked, proffering the datapad, "Lieutenant Hardings - I've been assigned as your liaison. You asked for the data?"

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Cyrene nodded, "Okay...what are we looking for?"

"Sorry?" Hardings asked.

Cyrene started slightly.

"That was to me." She frowned, "But feel free to reply. It makes me look less mad."

"Of course." Hardings said after a moment, "We're looking for an active droid foundry."

"So heat, power." Cyrene added, "Machinery which has been moved. Evidence of supplies going in and coming out."

"You won't be able to track supplies."

Cyrene glanced at Hardings.

"We won't?"

"The mines are a part of the facility, internally contained." Hardings explained, "And the seppies laced the area with an underground tunnel network, to protect from orbital bombardment. Their plan was to force the Republic into a siege on the ground, then out-produce them."

"So what happened?"

"The shut-off signal." Hardings shrugged, "And then the force deployed here was recalled to the Core."

"So they didn't have time to finish decommissioning the foundries." Cyrene nodded, "Skip forwards twenty years, a pirate gang's out to make a quick credit..."

There was silence for a moment.

"We can cut out these." Cyrene decided eventually, swiping her hand over a cluster of settlements, "Not enough emissions from them. And we can cut these ones out too - their emissions are consistent with what we can see. That just leaves us with...here, here and here."

"I'll inform the Captain and have the TIEs-"

"Don't bother." Cyrene shook her head, indicating one of the settlements, "It's here."

"Are you sure?"

"Here." Cyrene turned the datapad around, showing a satellite image where the scrubland was suddenly scarred by a deep crevasse, "You can see the vein they were mining - it's iron, for reference, so it has to be relatively new, or it would be totally oxidised. Only this settlement is close enough to be the one we're after."

"That proves nothing." Hardings pointed out, "It's pure conjecture."

Cyrene shrugged.

"Third datapoint, then: it's the only settlement within a reasonable distance of a large spaceport."

Hardings glanced across at her.

"What difference does that make?"

"The price of a B-1 three months ago was five and a half thousand. Today it's just under to two and a half thousand."

Realisation dawned in Hardings' eyes.

"What you're saying is that they're exporting them in bulk?"

"It seems likely."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'll go deliver these findings to Captain Kerillian." Hardings decided, holding her hand out for the datapad. Cyrene handed it over and shadowed her back up to the command pulpit. There was a brief, low exchange between Hardings and Kerillian before Kerillian took the datapad, glanced over at Cyrene with some unknowable look on his face. Cyrene met the look for a moment before a pair of TIEs screamed past the bridge and her eyes deflected to them. A moment later Kerillian was next to her, datapad in hand as he scowled at her.

"Impressive work, Miss Aurellia."

"Thank you, Captain." Cyrene smiled, "You put a lot of faith in me, coming here. I just hope I can repay it."

"I can assure you, there is no need."

Cyrene nodded slowly.

"How long will it be until the shuttles launch?"

"A few minutes still." Kerillian replied, "The TIEs are currently scouting the approaches, and we shall launch as soon as possible."

"Would it be acceptable if I landed with the troops?" Cyrene asked, "I know it's going to be a fight down there, Sir, but I have faith in the Stormtrooper Corps. I'll follow their orders, but I want to see this happen."

Kerillian's eyes were hard for a moment, before he tilted his head and nodded slowly.

"Hardings? Keep an eye on Miss Aurellia."

"Thank you, Captain." Aurellia bowed her head, then turned and headed for the turbolift. She and Hardings entered moments before the doors slid closed and they started to descend towards the hangar bay.

"Do you think he knows we know?" Hardings asked after a moment.

"Of course he doesn't." Cyrene grinned, "Otherwise he wouldn't have let me down there."

Hardings nodded slowly.

"Promise me you're not going to use it." She said after a moment, "The foundry, I mean. The Clone Wars were...not something I want a repeat of."

"I won't." Cyrene assured her, "And I speak on behalf of the Alliance when I say that. We want to liberate - an army of droids does little for that goal."

Hardings closed her eyes for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"Then what is this for?"

Cyrene grinned.

"Piracy is no-one's friend."

Hardings glanced across at her, eyes hard, before sighing.

"Of course. No hidden motives, then."

Cyrene's grin widened.

"Of course not." She agreed, "No hidden motives at all."