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

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Venn Vizsla
Death Watch Fleet
Terminus
As Kellic looked on as the fleet continued to advance through space. They had decimated the pirates sometime ago and were about to jump back to Corellia to claim their reward when scanners sensed a large number of vessels in the area. As they approached, they noticed that a large scale fleet battle was happening between a newly arrived Imperial Fleet and what seemed to be a Rebel one. As they approached, Kellic looked at the fleet, which seemed to be in disarray and already occupied by the Imperial Fleet, he also noticed several damaged warships and transport vessels attempting to escape.

"Alor, we have arrived, what do we do now?" A Death Watch Commando asked him. Kellic smiled, "Are we in range of their vessels?" he asked. "Yes Alor," The Commando replied. He nodded, "Very well, get the raiding squadrons to their stations, and deploy the fleet, target only the Rebel Transports or their heavily damaged war vessels, aim to disable and capture, Rebels these days come with quite the hefty sum these days to the Empire, and the supplies on those transports will be useful," "Aye Alor," The Commando saluted, and then ran off to tell said orders.

Soon, the Death Watch fleet approached the Rebel Fleet at another angle than the Imperial one. The fleet deployed elite fighter squadrons that specialised in hit and run tactics. The fleet started to target and single out transport ships and heavily damaged vessels, separating them from the rest of the Rebel fleet. The Keldabe Battleships fired their ion cannons to disable targeted transport ships, and low powered turbolasers to also help to disable them. Crusader Class Corvettes and elite fighter squadrons would stop any fighters from doing any major damage.

The main objective was not to directly attack or destroy the rebel fleet but to pick off weaker targets, such as the transports, and separate them from the main body to overcome, board, and capture. Hey, the Corellians wanted pirates, and since the Empire has identified the Rebels as pirates these days, it was a win-win situation.

[Spindle]

Hangar Bay
Imperial Supply Depot
Bespin

The knot had four Stormtroopers - one short of a standard fire team in the Rim - and they were already doing their best to suppress her with short, controlled bursts of fire at the crate she was currently crouched behind. She could already see them preparing to move up on her flank - or into grenade range - in her mind's eye, and she knew that neither of those could be considered optimal outcomes for this situation. Glancing around for something to help her, her eyes alighted on a catwalk crossing above and between her and the Stormtroopers. The ghost of a smile flitted across her lips for a moment, before she activated her duelling bracelet for a moment and vaulted onto the crate. Bolts spattered away from the ephemeral shield like water as she crouched, then passed through the space she had been as she uncoiled and shot up into the sky. Twisting as she did so her feet pressed against the solid metal of the catwalk; then she was spearing out of the sky directly towards the leading Stormtrooper in the knot.

The hapless soldier went limp as Silversong slid through his neck and cleanly severed his spinal cord. As he tried to fall to the floor Cyrene pulled the blade from his body and pirouetted away from the next Stormtrooper's lunge. Her free foot lashed out, sending the body crashing into the still-living Stormtrooper before half-turning once more and spitting the third on Silversong. Ducking low, a combat knife slicing through the air above her and meeting Imperial flesh with a wet thunk, Cyrene pivoted and slashed at the Stormtrooper's stomach. With a shout he staggered backwards, hands falling to the wound before Silversong embedded itself in his neck and he collapsed to the floor. The last Stormtrooper from the knot hesitated for a moment then fell backwards clutching at his throat, lines of crimson dribbling down his pristine-white armour plates. Flicking Silversong clean, a line of crimson joining the growing pools on the floor, Cyrene took in the battle as a whole.

Her side of the battle was more-or-less clear by now. In part that was because she had left a trail of white-armoured bodies but more importantly, without any supporting troops to keep them pinned down, most of the Stormtroopers had either joined the central section or had long-since pulled out of the battle entirely. It wasn't as perfect as Cyrene would have liked, but it meant that there wasn't anyone shooting at her for the time being. And she now had the chance to start closing the envelopment around the Imperial centre and finish this battle off once and for all.

Or not, she realised with a surge of irritation. The Imperials were being caught in a crossfire right now, with the two prongs of the Alliance force tightening around them, and any moves to engage them in close-quarters would provide them more reprieve than anything else. Glancing around, searching for anything she could do to help, her eyes landed on the bodies which surrounded her. Stormtrooper bodies. And while the thermal detonators were almost-certainly key-locked, the blaster power packs were most likely not. And since she had a little time...

Stooping down and grabbing a power pack, Silversong flashed and cut the back off of the power pack. Another power pack and another flash of Silversong and then the internals of both were exposed. Ducking behind a crate and sheathing Silversong, Cyrene's fingers flickered through the wires and components. After a moment, she Pressed them together, Hefting the makeshift weapon, she gauged the distance then threw the bomb. A moment later there was a thunderclap and a wave of heat, a lag, then a torrent of blasterfire began to sizzle through the air around her.

"And that is why I don't like using those weapons, Parais." She muttered, "No class to them."

[Whalestron]

Bespin

Eris responded to Martius's orders almost immediately. "I'm on it," she said. She turned to her soldiers, speaking directly to them. "We're pushing up, follow me and stay behind cover!" It was obvious she'd be deflecting blaster bolts and slicing through whatever troopers she encountered, so they all moved up. Some were a little more hesitant than others, though. Eris was a Sith; and her lightsaber generally meant death throughout the galaxy. Some of the soldiers, grateful to get any help at all, had chosen to trust her. The few that saw her as a time bomb put some distance between themselves and her.

She deflected a pair of bolts, one finding its sender and the other landing on the floor. Eris's internal struggle to balance her emotions was a battle in itself. She was used to releasing a torrent of emotions on the battlefield, but under the direction of her new master she couldn't let it slip. That didn't mean she couldn't pull a trio of troopers towards her and slice them, though. The right side began making excellent progress.


Finn and his small squad had taken a position atop some of the platforms overlooking the battle. His gun was modified to be a medium and short ranged weapon to a sniper, which came in handy especially now. He waved a hand to his troops, speaking over their comm channel. "Get ready to lay down some suppressive fire on the stormtroopers. And try not to hurt that lady out there, not that it seems possible."

He took aim at the Imperials that dared to poke their heads out of cover, speaking to Fei'la who was, at that moment, readying a rocket launcher. "Think you can handle that?" He asked her.

She chuckled, which was little assurance to Finn. "It can't be too difficult," she said, to which Finn shook his head.

"The back part rests on your shoulder, you aim with this thing," he tapped the viewfinder through which she'd have to aim with. "Aim right at their cover, and make sure that lady's not nearby."

Fei'la nodded, taking up the kneeling position Finn had told her to use. After a few moments of adjusting her aim, she fired a rocket at one of the stronger defensive points the Imperials had set up. They were fortunate enough to avoid hitting anything flammable, and served to eliminate several troopers. Finn patted her on the back, then spoke to everyone. "Suppressive fire, now!"

His squad all popped up from cover, everyone firing at the enemy lines. Each one was careful to keep the little blade-master out of their path of fire, though it was somewhat difficult. Her pristine white dress matched the stormtroopers around her rather well.

[Paleocacher]

Planet Droecil
Droecil System
Boeus Sector
Sector Enclave

In the Imperial Enclave in the outskirts of the capital city on the planet Droecil, Moff Jewett stood on the balcony outside his office, watching airspeeders go by, and all the little people walk around below him. His assistant, Lars, paused at the open doorway, the governor was brooding, it was usually considered unwise by Imperial personnel to bother him when he was doing his thinking.

The Moff spoke first: "I won't bite you Ensign, come here."

Lars tenatively walked over to the Moff's side and stood by him.

"Look at them Lars, all of the little people down there, peacefully living their lives, blissfully ignorant of the things the government is doing, of the wider universe. It would be so easy to, wait. Was there something you needed Ensign?"

"Yes sir, the ISB has sent a communique, they wish to schedule a holoconference with you. Something about letting a Rebel cell run rampant on Droecil."

"Did you tell them that these are not Rebels, but bandits. They are a job for the planetary police. And the Sector Rangers if they get rambunctious enough."

"Well it seems sir, that they launched an attack on a naval convoy in the next sector last night. They destroyed two Gozanti-class freighters and stole two more sir."

"Really, I should like to see the intelligence reports, yet we shall do as they ask. Double foot and air patrols. Send scout troopers to the outlying towns daily. Have the Military intelligence agents under out authority question all of the pub owners, bartenders, and prostitutes. Perhaps we'll get lucky.

"Yes sir." The ensign left at a run.

After he left, the Moff pulled out a second private, untraceable comlink. "I need to talk to you."

Rebel Outpost, Boeus Sector Cell.

"This is Klar-tanko," said the Yinchorri commando. "What can I do for you Governor Jewett?" he asked politely.

"You can stop attacking Imperial personnel and facilities! I've given you leeway in terms of allowing you to go after Imperial sympathizers and cargoes and whatnot unhindered, but openly attacking Imperial personnel is going to bring the ISB down on this planet like an avalanche." hissed the frustrated Moff."

"I desire vengeance against the Empire and freedom for my people and the people of the galaxy." hissed the rebel leader in response. "I will lay low for a while, but will not cease the freight hijacking of Imperial-bound cargoes."

"Fine, just be careful. If you bring the ISB down on me then I will have to bring the weight of the Imperial Military on you. Until we talk again."
The Moff growled. He stood up, and stalked off to the mess hall.

[New Roman Empire]

Siln & Corana
Imperial Garrison HQ, Naboo

Siln watched from above as the troopers got closer to Corana, he smiled as the plan was going on without a hitch thus far. But, he was sure that wasn't going to last very long. He dropped down behind two troopers he activated his light saber and sliced both their heads off before dragging them behind some crates in the hopes no one would come searching for them right away. He opened his bag and set two thermal detonators on the wall, always helped to have an escape plan. He looked around before he darted across an open area, spot lights were everywhere no doubt looking for anyone who was trying to get in. Not to mention the storm troopers where marching everywhere but, he felt a surge of adrenaline through his body. This was something he hadn't felt since the clone wars, that seemed like a decade ago though he knew it wasn't even that long ago.

Corana blurted, "Oh, I must have taken a wrong direction. Do you think you could point me to the royal palace?" The troopers looked at each other and seemed very confused. The sergeant of the group still kept his weapon on her, she felt very uncomfortable she felt itches all over her body and felt as if the trooper was staring deep into her soul. She never really looked at the troopers too much as she thought it would end with her being arrested. The thought did cross her mind that they would just shoot her on sight once they stopped her.

"Hey you two take her to the cell block, we will find out why she is here sooner or later even if it kills her." Ordered the sergeant at two of the troopers nodded and escorted her to a cell block that was in the basement of the HQ. As they got closer to the building she swallowed hard and looked nervous, she was still extremely sore and her arms were screaming in pain from how they were bound. Once they got to the cell block the troopers opened the door, released her hands, and then threw her in the cell and closed the door behind her.

Great, now I guess I just sit and wait for Siln to do whatever he is doing. Hopefully he knows the cell block is on the HQ before he blows it up. She thought as she sat down on the bed and decided to lay there. Meanwhile Siln had just darted into a hanger near the HQ.

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Bespin
Imperial Supply Depot

Shortly after removing the arm of an attacking stormtrooper with his lightsaber, Martius momentarily froze upon hearing an explosion, and the battle around him seemed to come to a complete halt for a moment as everyone held their breath in the hopes that it wouldn't hit any of the munitions caches spread throughout the area. Fortunately, whoever used the explosive device seemed to have impeccable aim, and the battle soon raged on as before, though now with Eris and her men pushing forward into the enemy lines to cause even further strain on the wavering stormtroopers. When yet another explosion went off, this time from a rocket by the sound of it, and Finn's forces exited cover to begin laying down heavy fire, the sole-surviving Imperial officer realized the situation was hopeless and ordered a retreat.

Martius ordered part of his forces to harass them as they did so, then to set up a defensive perimeter nearby in case the Imps attempted to launch a counterattack. Knowing that they were still on the clock, Martius ordered his remaining men to begin loading all the munitions they could onto the nearby Rebel vessels, then grabbed his comm device and stated: "This is Martius Shan to the Dawn, the Imperials have been driven back for the moment; I recommend deploying your remaining transport craft to begin extracting the supplies immediately before more company arrives..."

[Ormata]

Terminus
Eriadu, Seswenna Sector

ISB was watching. They always were.

The freighter idled her drives, drifting through the hum-drum traffic of space as it would any other day. From the outside, the vessel looked to be of any other class, a medium scamp with a shuddering sublight drive and patched hull. Her shields were typical and, as would befit the nature of a hauler, a singular dorsal turret adorned the hull. Every now and again the retro thrusters would fire, little bursts of plasma stabbing out into space like misshapen knives. Yet this was no little sector of space and no little freighter.

Eriadu: The pilot had been there before. It had always been a hotbed of political activity and the pilot’s handlers were fully aware, even before the formation of the Empire, that a full scale rebellion there was possible. They would bang-on about worker’s rights and the rest, as would be expected. When he heard of the issue, well, receiving ship numbers and troop counts was far from seeing the Federation fleet maneuvering about the planet in their serried clusters.

It looked to be a mismatched flotilla, as was expected, with CLone Wars-era designs scattered-about the place. However, a few things were easily noticed by the practiced eyes of the pilot, with the Federation fleet lacking that quintessential control or rather chaotic order the Rebels seemed to have. Mon Calamari vessels were also lacking in the Eriadu fleet, which was a pleasant surprise. Despite the fishes’ unwillingness to build uniform vessels, they still knew quality.

“Well, that’s neat,” commented his Co-pilot, an Arkanian wearing a set of loose-fitted robes, “Pity we’ll have to blow it up.” She tapped on a console beside her casually, a thin smile on her face as she hummed away. The girl was happy; she normally was. The Arkanian enjoyed working with the Empire in some ways, found the information gathered to be interesting. The pilot found the same to her to be less so; that stated, she was alright for an alien.

“Payload is...ready, Captain.” Outside the hull a tiny little satellite, no larger than perhaps one cubic meter, stood on the hull. Essentially consisting of landing gear with gravitational plates, a power generator, a communications array, and a Stygium Mark III Cloaking Device; it had been active throughout the entire voyage. The most minor set of maneuvering thrusters were mounted on the satellite as well, if anything to get out of the way of incoming fighters.

“Payload is ready, aye. Release the payload.”

“Release the payload, aye. Payload away.”

With not a sign of it’s departure, save for the readings in the freighter’s cockpit, the little satellite released from the hull, drifting-away from the ship before the thrusters fired for just a fraction of a moment. She pushed off the hull, to join on one of the larger military hulls in the nearby fleet. The transition would be silent on sensors, as objects so small entered a vessel’s shields all the time, especially in near orbit.

And the freighter? She slipped-off into the crowd, just another hulk.

[Spindle]

Hangar Bay
Imperial Supply Depot
Bespin

And just like that, the Imperial force was gone. White-clad bodies covered the floor in mottled patches, like half-melted snow, even as the Rebels went from body to body, stripping them of everything they'd had and retrieving them for proper burial in the manner of their people. A portion of the force pursued the Imperials out of the hangar, another portion setting up defensive positions as best they could. It was that moment after a battle, the calm carved free from the storm, that Cyrene dreaded. The adrenaline fading, she glanced behind her at the river of blood marred by white islands which marked her wake through the battle. Something turned in her stomach.

Turning away from her work, she glanced at the identification-plate on the nearest crate. IWD-99-33291-A. The next one was IWD-99-33291-B. It continued in that vein, Cyrene walking across the rows and corridors of crates with a slow patience as the letters climbed high, then reset, then climbed again. Eventually she came to rest in front of IWD-99-33291-I(ii). Perhaps a grim joke of fate, possibly a grim joke by whoever had packaged these devices. Running a single finger along the seam where the lid's seal lay, she appraised it before turning and striding back towards the Jedi; thoughts and apprehensions whirling through her.

Like him, and his...apprentice? Companion? Something more? She couldn't tell for sure. Their body language wasn't that of master and apprentice - or not in the manner she was used to from her childhood interactions with the Jedi - but it certainly seemed to be more than a simple travelling companionship. And more to the point - a Jedi? Here? Now? Accompanied by a Sith, no less. It wasn't as if the Inquisitorious had grown any less zealous as the remaining Jedi had dwindled. So what had pushed this one to come out of hiding now? And this Sith - what led her to rebel against her own Empire? She seemed too young to have betrayed her master already - without dying in the process - so what could have happened? And did it relate to her choice of companion?

Pushing the thoughts out of the front of her mind, reining her emotions in once more and shackling them to her will, she stopped in front of the Jedi, Sith and a Lieutenant. A motley collection, indeed.

"Master Jedi - I assume this operation is yours? - the crate IWD-99-33291-I(ii) contains ion disruptor weaponry. Please ensure it is loaded at the earliest convenience, and it is not opened - or touched beyond the necessary - until I have a team ready to record it for evidence. I trust this is acceptable?"

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Bespin
Imperial Supply Depot

Many of the Rebel soldiers rapidly scurried about the depot grabbing munition crates, along with just about everything of value that wasn't nailed down, to load them onto their transports while Martius finished up his call to the Dawn. While surveying their work, Martius noticed a bright white glimmer out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the woman in the flowing white dress approaching. She was close enough now that he could see the elegance even in her stride, suggesting she was likely of high enough birth to have received training in proper etiquette. Seeing the hilt of her weapon served to reinforce this suspicion, as few outside the various planetary noble families would invest what must have been a small fortune in such an elegant and clearly master-crafted vibrorapier; let alone take the time to learn how to use such a blade proficiently. That still left the question of where she was from, given the Galaxy wasn't exactly short on planets with some form of nobility on them, though Martius' first guesses would be either Serenno, given their penchant for resisting authority, Tapani, with their long and storied history of famous duelists, or Alderaan, whose survivors would certainly be inclined to fight against the Empire.

When she reached him and asked if the operation was his, he was about to correct her before hearing that one of the crates contained ion disruptor weaponry; that certainly helped to explain why the Imperials had put up such a fierce resistance. He'd heard about the brutality of the weapons when they were used in the Siege of Lasan and could understand why the Empire wouldn't want them falling into the hands of their enemies; especially considering the fact that these weapons shouldn't exist in the first place after having been banned by the Imperial Senate. When the young woman made her request, which in a manner typical of a noble came off as less of a request and more of a polite order, Martius replied:

"Yes, that would be acceptable." The nearby Rebel officer had been close enough to hear the exchange, and Martius stated: "Lieutenant, please see to it that the crate in question is loaded immediately."

The officer replied: "Yes sir, I'll escort it back to the ship myself" then walked off in the direction the woman had arrived from.

Stepping slightly closer to the young woman, Martius quietly continued: "I would ask however that you see to it the weapons are destroyed as soon as you've collected the evidence you need. While I do not believe the Rebellion would use them now, I know all too well that should a situation grow desperate enough people are capable of doing almost anything, and I would not want to see a repeat of what happened to the Lasat." Returning back to his earlier distance and resuming speaking at a normal volume, Martius asked: "So than, are you here on behalf of Rebel Intelligence?"

[Spindle]

Hangar Bay
Imperial Supply Depot
Bespin

Cyrene could feel the Jedi studying her, saw...something flash in his eyes as she spoke. Recognition? House Pelagia had been closely linked to the Order before its dissolution.But no, he couldn't recognise her from that. Both had ceased two decades ago, and she was wearing a mask for a reason. Perhaps he had heard of her - possible but unlikely. She took pains to be forgotten where possible - missions like this were considered to be last resorts. And the look in his eyes hadn't been aimed at her. No, not recognition of her. Recognition of the weapons. Ion Disruptors. She didn't blame him for that.

The Jedi acquiesced to the request: unsurprising given his recognition, but certainly helpful. This wasn't her operation - he would have been perfectly within his rights to have her kept out of it altogether. Still, Cyrene had plenty of experience with slotting herself into chains of command she did not belong to. How to do so had been one of the first lessons she had learned after her fall from grace, after all. As the officer headed off to oversee the procurement of the Disruptors, she tilted her head in silent thanks to the Jedi. More than a few officers would have told her to go stuff herself.

Then he stepped in closer, voice lowering, and Cyrene felt something stir, vague and half-formed, in her memories. Pushing it to one side, she focused on the words themselves, thoughts of Pelagia's rival Houses flashing across her mind and being deliberately buried. Melantha. Scattered, frozen scenes of fire, blaster bolts, collapsing rubble, priceless artefacts shattered thoughtlessly as white armour flooded room after room. Her right hand burned for a moment, images of the Krath hookblade flashing unbidden into her mind's eye: equally lethal to its wielder and their enemy. She knew that the Jedi could skim the surface of a person's mind and wondered if this one could feel the fire burning in her mind. If he could, she wondered if it would assure him or not.

Don't worry Master Jedi. Those weapons survive for a week: no more. I know what weapons people will grasp in desperation.

And then the conversation was normal once more, or as normal as it got in this situation. A slight smile crossed her lips, safe behind her mask, as the Jedi asked if she was from Alliance Intelligence. By technicality, Master Jedi, yes. But not in truth. Of course, the Web was technically under Alliance Intelligence and Acquisition control - technically, it was under her control too, but she did little more than troubleshoot and coordinate the occasional joint effort. No, she was here as much as an agent of the Web as she was the spider in its centre. But that could take too long to explain fully.

"And Acquisition, yes, though that is not my role here. Your people seem to have that in hand well enough."

Her gaze flicked over to the Sith standing beside him.

"And you, Lady Sith? Why are you here? A Sith and a Jedi together is most unusual."

[G-Tech Corporation]

High Orbit, Pammant
Grand Admiral Jarnassus Kuat

---

The Fealty came out of hyperspace far from the defenses over the devastated Quarren world, her bulky oblong signature joined in moments by gray monolith after gray monolith of Imperial spaceborne might dropping into the system. On the bridge of the Allegiance-class battlecruiser the Grand Admiral looked out at the blasted orb hanging in the distance, his mind contemplating the tactical problem Pammant presented even as the officers below his feet brought the fleet into combat formation.

Quarren. An ingenious people, certainly, but a menace to the proper governments of the galaxy for generations. Emperor Palpatine had been generous with their needs for years, viewing them as a useful counterbalance to the ever-seditious Mon Calamari, but with Dac in full revolt and the Quarren now joining with the rebels, that generosity had been officially revoked. Normally Clixon would be responsible for keeping this part of the eastern Outer Rim under control, but he was off chasing republicans over Terminus, according to High Command. That left the force Grant and Kuat had assembled at loose ends, and with the Emperor's blessing, Jarnassus had decided to take those assembled forces to put down the revolt on the Quarren-occupied worlds of Mintooine and Pammat.

After all, this was practically in Mon Cala's back yard. If the rebels were able to spread their footprint in this sector, they would have access to better hyperlanes for accessing more valuable Imperial worlds, sowing mischief and chaos in their wake. That, combined with Pammant's still-useful shipyards, was a combination the Grand Admiral could not allow to come to pass. The Mon Calamari were cunning, and much better to keep bottled up on their homeworld than allow to roam loose at large.

"Admiral? The fleet is in readiness."

Kuat nodded to the captain of the Fealty, glancing out the black windows of the bridge to either side to take in the Midnight Fleet hanging in precisely regimented order alongside his flagship, the spacing of the vessels perfect to allow the heavy turbolasers uninterrupted arcs of overlapping fire, overlapping fire that could rend entire fleets in minutes and slag worlds in hours.

"Give the order to advance. Let us see what these seditious brigands are made of; I warrant they will flee, but if not, they will die. Inform the captains that prisoners are preferable to exploding subatomic dust, but any armed resistance is weapons-free if they fire first. Let no Imperial sailor or soldier die today, and let us show the galaxy the folly of rebellion."

As implacable as the tide, as inexorable as the death of the stars, the Midnight Fleet advanced on the paltry defenses of Pammant.

[Tayner]

Commander Biran Nalatracer
The Resonance, Task Force Lo
Colony Worlds

---

"Why are we still here?" Biran yelled as he entered the engine room of the CR92a Assassin-class corvette. "We need to be out of here five minutes ago!" He yelled over the commotion.

"Sir, we can't get the coolant system to work properly! If we hit hyperspace we might melt!" An engineer responded. "It's gotta be a leak in the manifolds somewhere, we just can't find it-"

"I've found it!" Another engineer shouted, cutting off the other man. "Fifteen minutes and we can be out of here!"

"You have ten, HQ just wired us some intel, the Imps are getting a little antsy because their patrol ship isn't showing up on their scope, they're preparing to send out another to figure out what's the holdup. I don't think they'll like what happened to the manifold!" Biran said.

"You heard him, break out a torch! Let's patch this leak." Another engineer said.

"I'll return to the Resonance and wait for the green light. Get ready to get out of this system." He said before returning to the flagship. He found his way to the bridge, where his XO was standing in the center of. "Go take command of the enemy ship, prepare to go to hyperspace, go to these coordinates. Take a skeleton crew." He said as he handed off a data pad.

"Aye sir." He said before leaving the bridge.

"Recall the interceptors, and release the docking clamps once the XO and his men are clear. Power up the hyperdrive, I want to be ready to leave as soon as the word is given." Biran said as he took his seat, and looked off through the viewport and into the void.

"Aye sir." The helmsman responded. In what seemed like an eternity, although only a few minutes, the captured ship sent out a hail giving the green light.

"All ships, prep-"

"There's a small fleet dropping out of hyperspace!" A deck officer quickly blurted, similar calls echoing throughout the task force as sensors picked up the disturbance.

"Rendezvous at the designated coordinates, engage hyperdrives." Just as three Imperial ships dropped out of hyperspace, the task force entered hyperspace, there wasn't enough time for the two sides to get more than a proximity scan before the encounter was over. "OOD, you take the conn, I'll be in my quarters filing an after action report." He ordered before standing up. "Good work today, let's just get home." He said to the bride before heading to his quarters. This was going to be a good report, although something disheartened him.

The names of seven marines on his data pad reminded him how hard his job could be sometimes. Condolence letters would be written, vague on the circumstances of course. Four times the amount of dead there were wounded however, although mostly light injuries, all of the wounded marines were in stable condition. Acceptable losses. If the captured vessel was used in a battle where an ISD would be destroyed, if it was used to evacuate a base somewhere, if it had valuable information in it's data banks, than their loss would not be in vain.

It wouldn't be in vain.

It couldn't.

[Ormata]

Captain Jionni Castaneda
ISD-Isaac’s Wrath
Terminus System

“Sir, the gunship’s pinned-down…Charyboym and Tririyam moving to finish her off. Target lock in ten seconds.”

The melee was going quite well, in Jionni’s opinion. The DP-20 would be destroyed, hopefully with not a singular causality among the fighters or crew; that was the best kind of victory, one where no messages would be sent home, where no failings would occur. However, a worry was there; gunships of that class normally carried…Alarms; collision alert, normally, but the style of collision was a good deal different as an Ensign called-out from her console.

“Target lock! Missiles, inbound!” One of her hands pushed the 1MC call button at her post, her voice heard throughout the ship, “Incoming missile, brace brace brace!”

A fact not normally known was that a missile, nearly any style of missile, gave severe issues towards anything on it; it would detonate and the entire frame of the vessel would shake and shudder. Locked knees were a good way for broken bones to occur at that point, something that might normally wouldn’t happen if the vessel’s internal compensators were working. But, of course, to push a bit more power into the vessel those were often de energized prior to combat.

It was something of an issue at times.

The entire bridge crew sprang to their feet, gripping consoles with both hands and all mouths open slack, while the Captain himself ingloriously nearly fell upon a console to steady himself, gripping it with both hands and leaving the cane to clatter on the floor. One leg with slack against the ground, and the first missile hit. The vessel vibrated, shaking violently from one side to the other as grips turned to quite seriously death grips.

“Incoming missile, brace brace brace!”

And again the ship shook, side to side, lights on the bridge shuddering before going completely black. The dim battle lanterns, glowing red along the overhead, switched themselves, and the crew sat themselves about trying to figure-out precisely how badly everything had gone.

“Sir, DCC reports Decks Two, Three, and Five have been breached. Forward Ammunition bay has been breached, Barracks #3 has been breached. Battery Hart is disabled...sir, fires are reported on Deck Four.”

“Set them about getting the fires under control. Flight Officer, get those damn bombers where they should be! I want that gunship dead and I want her dead now!”

“Aye, sir!”

Outside the vessel, as the Isaac’s Wrath bellowed smoke across her port bow, the gunships had their attack run, torpedos streaking-out in a deadly salvo into the enemy’s aft sections, impacting on the engines. The near entire section exploded as the reactors blew, the ship’s only saving grace was the presumption that her engines hadn’t been running at full power on account of the tractor beams. Her Captain had likely set the shields and weapons power to beyond maximum, to try and inflict as much damage as all possible.

The ship’s lighting turned dark and she began to drift in the black. Near the gunship, the combat turned to a close, the enemy fighters destroyed by the superior skill of the squadrons and their vessels. The Cutlass-9 was a Clone Wars vessel, outstripped by her more contemporary rivals in such a manner that nearly made it depressing. One vessel, however, turned-about and began to thrust back to their fleet, afterburners alight in the darkness of space.

“Sir,” called-out the Flight Officer, “Kilo is requesting permission to engage the fleeing fighter.”

“Denied. Rein them back and keep the fighters close. Comms, get me a channel to that gunship.”

Sensors spoke-up again, “Sir, Federation fleet preparing to jump.”

“Noted, Ensign, we have our own wounds to lick.”

“Comms open, sir!”

“Federation vessel you are ordered to surrender or be destroyed.”

In the distance, the PGF fleet left Terminus, jumping to Hyperspace away along with the last Cutlass-9. To be frank, Jionni didn’t much care; he could do nothing against them and they nothing against him. It was annoying to lose a catch but when that same catch would bite back far harder, well...one couldn’t be too annoyed.

---

Active

Destroyed/Damaged

Missile Strikes
3x Nebulon-B Destroyed
1x DP-20 Damaged, Heavy.
Reactors, Sublight, Hyperdrive

Dogfight
18x Cutlass-9 Destroyed
1x Cutlass-9 Damaged

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

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

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

[Revlona]

Grand Admiral Rudolf Clixon
Terminus Orbit

Clixon viewed the quick skirmish from the bridge of his flagship the Oblivion, "Signal the Isaac's Wrath inform her she is to finish off the enemy forces and rejoin the fleet, also inform her th---" He is interrupted by a communications officer, "SIr, message from coruscant, the emperor wishes to speak with you immediately."

"Patch him through to the communications room" He ordered and took off at a walk-jog to the communications room, "Clear the room now, and seal the doors." he ordered.

Kneeling before the Image of the Emperor as it came threw he waited for the emperor to speak.

"Grand Admiral, I trust that terminus is once again within our grasp?" Palpatine asked

"Yes my lord, the PGF forces fled the moment our ships entered orbit, though we have yet to begin the invasion" Clixon said

"Good, very good, though an invasion will not be necessary." Palpatine said

"My lord, what do you mean?" Clixon asked

"We must make an example of those that dare raise there weapons against the empire, initiate Protocol Base Delta Zero." Palpatine said

"It...It shall be done My lord." Clixon said as the emperor disappeared

Walking back to into the bridge Clixon said to the nearest communications officer, "Order all captains to initiate Base Delta Zero protocols on my mark, they are to target major cities first."

-2 hours later-

Standing apart from his crew so they could not hear his heavy breathing, Clixon was waging a mental battle in his head, his fleet was in place, there guns on target, all they waited for now was his command.

"On my mark" He ordered

A single drop of sweat danced it's way from his forehead to his chin, dropping to the floor, the silence in the bridge was astonishing as all eyes where on him.

"Fire" He said, watching as that four letter word concluded billions of peoples lives

[New Roman Empire]

Commander Rokri Te
Paladin Squad

Rokri stepped out of the squad's quarters and into the hallway, he turned left and started to make his way to the bridge. He heard the door slide shut behind him as he made his way down the corridors those that knew who he was stepped out of the way. Rokri's squad had just been assigned to their current post two weeks ago, suddenly the ship felt different than it had earlier. We must have arrived in orbit, I had better hurry to the bridge. No doubt Grand Admiral Kuat will have something for us to do. He wasn't really sure what to expect down there but, he knew he would have to be on alert as the populace probably wouldn't be friendly. He had heard rumors of why they are here but, he would know soon enough.

The corridors were packed with personnel going to their stations or preparing for something. He had no doubt the invasion force would be landing shortly and the whole operation here was going to be chaos. "Commander, our equipment is ready to go once we get our order. Have you got any idea what we are going to be doing while we are on planet?" Asked Kelelle over the squad's channel.

Rokri thought before replying, "I dont have any idea on what we are going to be doing yet Kelelle. My guess is we are going to be assisting with putting down any resistance or hunting down rebels, just be prepared to move once I find out. My guess is we are going to be very busy, now if you will excuse me im about to get on the turbolife to the bridge." He then summoned the lift and stood off to the side of the door as it made its way down, he had no doubt someone would be riding on the lift. The bridge was the part of the ship that always seemed to get a lot of foot traffic.

Once the lift arrived, the doors slid open to reveal that no one was on. He pushed the button that would sent the lift up to the bridge and the doors slid shut as the lift shot up towards the bridge. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity before the doors opened to reveal the bridge where the Grand Admiral would be overseeing the operation. He stepped off the lift and scanned the room, his montrals tingled as he stepped onto the bridge. He shook the feeling from his head and scanned the room, the bridge staff seemed very busy with whatever they were doing. He then heard the Grand Admiral's voice and looked over in that direction to finally find him, he quickly walked over and saluted, "Grand Admiral Kaut Paladin Squad is preped and awaiting orders."


Siln & Corana
Imperial Garrision HQ, Naboo

CRACK! the sound seemed to echo in the corridor as Siln snapped a troopers neck and gently set his body down. He walked over to a vent near some crates and set a charge down. He looked both directions before continuing down the corridor, he was not going to head to the basement level of the building. So far he had managed to get around unseen but, he was already pushing his luck at not getting caught. Not to mention the bodies were going to be discovered sooner or later then the alarms would be set off and his life would be a hell of a lot harder. He was about to turn the corner when he heard foot steps echoing around the corner, he quickly pressed himself against the wall and waited as a squad of storm troopers passed by him. He sighed and quickly went the opposite direction only to find himself in a cell block area. They put a cell block in the bottom of the building? You have got to be kidding me, oh well might as well see if I can find her since im here.

He quietly made his way down to a terminal which he hoped would have the records of who was in what cell. He didnt hear anyone come up behind him but he heard, "Freeze! Step away from the terminal!" He turned around to see and Imperial officer with a squad of storm troopers behind him. "Put your weapon down and step away from the terminal, I wont ask again!" Barked the officer some more. Siln took two steps forward before using a force push to push them all down and activating his lightsaber he cut down most of them with ease. Then suddenly the alarm was sounded and he turned around to see the officer had activated it and before he could react a bolt hit him in the stomach.

Siln brought the officer closer to him and cut him in half, he limped his way over to the terminals once again and quickly found out which cell to go to. He was now hunched over when he opened the cell door to see Corana laying on the bed, "I think we over stayed our welcome if you couldn't tell. So we should get out of here now," he suggested as he handed her a E-11 blaster from a nearby storm trooper. "You are going to have to lead the way, im not in the best condition to fight things head on and protect you at the same time," he continued as he pointed the way for her to go.

Corana's face frowned, "Oh you have got to be kidding me. You couldn't have just sabotaged the alarm sytem or done something so it wouldnt be tripped." She shook her head as she held the blaster at the ready and made her way to the exit of the cell block. Siln directed her where to go and they managed to avoid the alerted storm troopers until they got to the courtyard. The whole area was swarming with them.

[Turkducken]

Rebel General Xost Tuchigemm Den
Dark Space
The X.R.A. Fleet

General Den sat in his quarters, he had removed his breathing apparatus hours ago, as he turned the life support system in his room to resemble his home planet of Dorin. The unique gas, only native to his home planet, was a cheap synthetic. Noticeably poor in comparison to the real thing. However he did not care, dealing with the stress of a possible breach was exhausting, let alone dealing with it for multiple day cycles. He quietly meditated on the cold durasteel floor of his room, the Mon Calamari engineers hadn't had time to construct the ship with comfort for non-aquatics in mind, and only scarcely finished the construction within the allocated time. The Coward's Redoubt was space worthy, and that was all that mattered. His thoughts turned to his crew, and the various races that comprised it. They were all so different, biological differences set aside, they had completely different outlooks and experiences. Some fought for the former C.I.S., others with the Republic. Some were former Slaves, sold into that heinous practice by either unknown slavers or their own people, and even with these things known and present; they were still fighting for their lives, their people, and their futures. The General's resolve strengthened, "I will not fail them." he quietly thought to himself.

Rebel Admiral Rola Akohlaash Vi
Dark Space
The X.R.A. Fleet

The Admiral sat aboard Hope's Dagger, her hands shook, sweat fell, and tears began to form in her eyes. The female Togruta was in a state of terror and shock. If this Rebel intelligence was correct, Terminus was obliterated by The Empire, the commander of the event is still unknown, but this order could've only come from the Emperor himself. Tears fell against the screen of her datapad, "How many more lives can they take from us? Countless Xenos exterminated! And for what?!" she mentally screamed in anguish, remembering the Old Republics extermination of her tribe. Another message appeared, marked URGENT. A coded message directly from Rebel Leaders, requesting a meeting of all interested parties. She quickly barked an order to her communications officer, "Get General Den on the viewscreen now!" they had scarce time to lose.

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Bespin
Imperial Supply Depot

Martius could sense the anguish from the old memories the devastating weapons stirred in the young woman's mind; clearly she had seen her share of suffering at the hands of such people as would make use of the barbaric ion disruptors she had discovered, and that did more to reassure him that she would see them destroyed than any mere words ever could have. He gave her an understanding nod, though when his recent protege was addressed, she proved to be less understanding:

"I don't see how that's any of your business" the Sith bluntly replied to Cyrene's question.

"Now Eris, there's no call for rudeness" Martius informed his pupil; clearly he'd need to add social niceties to the list of things to teach the young Sith. Turning to the White Lady, Martius stated: "I apologize for that, Eris and I met only recently and I have begun to instruct her in the ways of the Light Si..." Martius stopped mid-sentence as he was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of pain and suffering; turning pale and looking as though the wind had been knocked out of him, he stumbled towards a nearby crate and sat down on top of it. His head hung down towards the floor and he covered his eyes with the palm of his hand as he sensed the final terrified screams of billions of dead and dying through the Force, which served to dig up the horrible memory of his own actions at Tinnel IV as well. The world around him seemed to phase away for a moment as his senses were completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the horror being inflicted on innocent people somewhere in the Galaxy.

Breathing deeply in controlled breaths for a few seconds, he managed to quiet the screams and regain control of his senses to look up and inform the others: "Something terrible has happened. I can sense a great disturbance in the Force; the worst I've felt since the destruction of Alderaan..." After rubbing his eyes for a moment, he looked at Cyrene and continued: "I am sorry to ask this of someone I've just met, but if you have any contacts in Intelligence who would be apprised of major disasters, I would very much appreciate it if you could contact them and inform me if they know of anything." Retrieving his comm device and offering it to the woman so she could get its frequency, he continued: "You can contact me at that frequency at any time. In the meantime I think it's best we leave this place..."

As a Rebel Sergeant passed by, Martius grabbed his arm and asked: "Have all the munitions been loaded?"

"Yes sir" the Sergeant replied "We're starting to load up some fuel canisters we found now."

"Order the men to finish loading what they're carrying then begin boarding transports to return to the ship."

"Understood sir" the Sergeant replied: "Imp reinforcements on the way already?"

"I'm not certain, though I fear we may well have something far worse to deal with..."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Standard Orbit, Pammant
Grand Admiral Jarnassus Kuat

---

One of the tractor beam batteries at the fore of the Fealty pulsed, the invisible rays of energy shunting a piece of debris out of the path of the military juggernaut while she orbited steadily above the ravaged world of Pammant. Kuat barely glanced up from the report he was composing for High Command on the rebel tactics to note the piece of a Corellian corvette drifting nearby. Cleanup crews would deorbit it or salvage it, eventually, but for now it was enough that the fleet of brigands and revolutionaries was no more.

It had been a short engagement, all things considered. The type of engagement that the Grand Admiral preferred; one of overwhelming force brought to bear with such ferocity as to make resistance not only impracticable, but unthinkable. The small picket fleet, no doubt flush from their victory over the two light frigates that had formed the prior Imperial patrol element over the devastated shipyard-planet, had been ill-expecting such an inexorable counterattack. They had been lulled into security, perhaps, by the Rebel propaganda which habitually portrayed Imperial military officers as hapless oafs, unable to take decisive action, bumbling buffoons that even farmhands and moisture farmers could outwit with ease.

A fatal amount of hubris, in this case, for many of those rebels who had stood to try and fend off the Midnight Fleet.

There were prisoners, of course. A few thousand, actually, interned aboard the Compliance in low orbit, extricated from their surrendering vessels by boarding parties following their realization that their survival relied on striking their colors. Small prize crews had been delegated to control the assortment of barges, haulers, and vessels of dubious military worth that had survived the engagement, to jump soon for more secure space. Leaving assets laying around within reach of the Mon Calamari was a military error the Grand Admiral was loathe to commit.

The report, overall, was good. There were some sour notes in his transcripts from fleet command- apparently a bombardment had been ordered on Terminus, reducing her biosphere to ash. A direct Imperial order that, as wasteful and profligate as the Sith were all too wont to be. But Jarn's face had betrayed no emotion upon receiving the news; it was a butcher's bill that would one day be paid in full and with interest, but for now to play the part of the loyal man was the role the scion of Kuat trod. Sometimes orbital firepower was necessary to end conflicts without wasting lives- his captains had already authorized it many times over this very world, heavy turbolasers kindling the atmosphere and vaporizing entrenched enemy positions with no risk to the soldiers who worked their way slowly across the barren surface, rooting out all opposition.

Commander Karson's troops had been instrumental in that endeavor. II had not been optimistic about the garrison's chances of survival, what with the planet overrun by the rebellious Quarren, but the relief force had been pleasantly surprised; most of the combat elements of the planetary governor had been mauled, true, but remained relatively combat capable. They had been fully capable of securing landing zones for the infantry complements of the Imperial Army that the flotilla had brought for pacification duty, and the Grand Admiral had already cited Karson for commendation for his actions. A lesser man, a political appointee or vacuous courtier, might have not had the will to hold the garrison together during the dark days of the uprising; that Karson had performed well under pressure despite being stuck in a backwater hellhole of alien filth spoke volumes about his ability and character.

There was still much to do before the planet would be officially secure, of course. Bringing the orbital defenses online, cowing the populace back into submission- cowing Quarren, a subject for volumes of discourse itself!- and bringing Mintooine back to her senses were all orders for the ongoing campaign. But for now Pammat was all but an Imperial world once more. Perhaps a few million transported to Kessel and some mines for the routes to Dac would see the issue set aright.

[Spindle]

Hangar Bay
Imperial Supply Depot
Bespin

Cyrene scowled behind her mask as the Sith angrily rebuked her question, before her faced smoothed once more as Martius stepped in to calm her down. So they were in some sort of mentoring relationship, then, presumably Martius trying to convert the Sith - Eris, apparently - to the Light Side. It took her a moment to realise that Martius was probably the ranking Jedi alive in the galaxy right now - there was more than simple ideology behind this. This was his first step towards rebuilding the Jedi Order. Behind her mask her eyes widened for a moment, flicking from Eris to Martius. That had to be it.

Then, mid-sentence, he staggered backwards, towards one of the crates, and collapsed onto it, looking as if all of the energy had been drained out of him. Without thinking Cyrene started towards him, recoiling as she saw the pallor of his features and the distant glaze in his eyes. Something was wrong with him - if not physically, then within his soul. She glanced across to Eris, but was rewarded with a simple shrug by way of response. This was something the Jedi was going to have to explain to them himself. Pacing over to him, Cyrene dropped to one knee and waited, the worry in her eyes hidden behind her impassive mask.

When Martius glanced up, Cyrene could see...something in his eyes. It sat on the line between pain and guilt and memory, and she knew it all too well. She'd seen it on the faces of her guards after the Shattering, when they talked about the events of that day. It was a wound reopened, a memory left to lie awoken. Whatever it was he had picked up, it had stirred up memories he had much rather would remain repressed. She wondered what he'd done - or hadn't done - to be so affected by it. In the back of her mind, her second thoughts whispered: do you really want to know?

And then he spoke of Alderaan, and worry and curiosity became fear and suspicion instantly. What had just happened? Was it nearby? The other side of the galaxy? She knew she wouldn't get any answers from the Jedi - they had always been recalcitrant with their knowledge - and the Sith seemed oblivious to all that had transpired. That itself was interesting - was it merely that she was not sensitive enough to notice it, or was it something to do with the discipline she had chosen? Interesting questions, but for another time. When the woman had warmed to her Cyrene thought, a small smile slipping over her face.

When Martius proffered her his commlink - asking her to keep him afloat - she hesitated a moment, then took it. Hitching up her dress, she revealed a band around her right thigh studded with devices of every kind and pulled out her own commlink, touching the two together to sync them before replacing hers and handing Martius his. Standing, she glanced up as the Fiscality slid into the hangar and settled down, ramp hissing as it opened up. Nodding her goodbye to the Jedi and the Sith she took her leave and strode up the ramp, disappearing up the ramp.

It closed behind her, and she was gone.

[Ormata]

Captain Jionni Castaneda
ISD-Isaac’s Wrath
Terminus System

The Dp-20 signaled her surrender with what must’ve been a hand-cranked radio system, likely just a backup generator, the tractor beams bringing her closer before Imperial marines in their Zero-G suits storming the vessel. This stated, storming the vessel was a bit too extreme for the word; maneuvering to an airlock with turbolaser support was less impressive than rapidly whacking a fully-powered unfucked vessel.

They took control, if anything to prevent the more radical sections of the rebels from detonating the ship’s complement of missiles while the gunship was near the Isaac’s Wrath. Transferring said vessel’s crew over was a rather easy task, using the Sentinel-class Landing Crafts with a vacuum seal against an airlock to bring them over. For the most part the survivors wanted to leave the compromised ship, to survive, to help their comrades if they were injured.

The engineers rapidly decided that the frame of the gunboat was both bent and broken in the aft sections and as such set-about to remedy their issues. Some few of the DP-20’s weaponry had remained intact despite the damaged; this included four laser cannon turrets and the entirety of the ship’s missile launchers as they were heavily concentrated in the forward compartments of the warship. Seeing an opportunity Captain Castaneda ordered the weapons salvaged from the Corellian rapidly, cut from hull and scrap metal with plasma torches. Meanwhile, those damaged fighters were towed back to the hangar bays, enemy pilots put in the Brig and the ships computers under interrogation. Granted, technicians were sorting through the DP-20’s Nav and other systems already, seeing what their crew hadn’t deleted, but more sources were generally better.

Two hours had passed with good progress made, the laser cannons of the gunship off of her and in the hangar, the mechanics working on the missile systems. While it wasn’t standard practice, it was far better than any other options. Attempting to fix it was a lost cause; the back was broken and any hyperdrive would tear the Corellian to shreds. This method was far more profitable.

Jionni was upon the Bridge when the call came-through.

“Sir, the Oblivion has raised the Fleet...ordering to begin positioned for immediate Base Delta Zero.”

It was silent; most of his officers were newly-minted, fresh out of the Academy, or of the old school. They hunted pirates, dammit, dregs of society who were easily found as the enemy of all, the enemy of civility and civilians. Destroying civilian centers, killing a planet’s worth of innocents...that wasn’t what someone signed-up for ever. They wanted to kill pirates, protect friends, serve something better than themselves. Jionni wanted to help civilians, dammit, bring order to it all, bring security to it all.

“Inform the Oblivion of our inability to participate due to repairs underway. Also, close the windows for out prisoners and triple security on Deck Five.”

“Aye, sir.”

It was still quiet, most there looking down at their consoles just to not look-up at the death of a planet, and it nagged on Jionni. The question wasn’t whether or not it was moral; it clearly wasn’t. Bombing a world until absolutely nothing lived or could live there, until the atmosphere burned-away, that wasn’t moral by any stretch of the imagination. The question, asked for the first time by the Captain, was far better.

What would happen next?

The rebels would step-up their efforts, feeling the pressure and possibility of more planets, wishing to stop the Empire even more rapidly, believing themselves and their message to be at stake. Tarkin’s Doctrine of fear was one that didn’t work in practice; if the people are in terror, afraid of what you are, some always rose-up in Jionni’s opinion. Those always inspired others. Once they strengthened those efforts, the Empire would become more extreme on the people, crack-down on those attitudes or any idea not their own. They would become close-minded, more than ever. In that scenario, that eventuality, Jionni and most of the crew would flounder and fail. They’d developed a different style of what one was supposed to do with the enemy, who the enemy was, a different view of seeing war and soldiers, fighters and death. It wouldn’t be good for anyone, he thought.

---

Lieutenant Leah Pearce
ISD-Isaac’s Wrath
Terminus System

The XO sat in her quarters, eyes closed and sitting on a seafoam green mat. The lighting was dim, yet even then, with the furnace of Terminus’s sun just outside, one could see her form rocking, back and forth with just an undershirt and shorts on. Officers had blessed free time, you see, and this was one of those moments.

She needed to not think.

Don’t think of the seventeen men and women lost, the letters she had written before, testifying to the idea that they were, indeed, good people. Don’t think on Private Mata whose harsh laughter filled a room, who she once, twice, perhaps three times played Bolo-Ball with in the hangar, whose smile was bright and glorious, whose body was torn to literal shreds in the strike. Don’t think on how the ribs stuck-out from her like glass shards, how the flesh hung there in little strands and the pulpy mass that was once a throat. Don’t think on that image, that failure.

Don’t think.

Leah could still see the face of Caturno, a Technical Sergeant fresh from school who always bore a nervous little smile because he never got used to Officers being people. He didn’t have a jaw when they found the corpse, floating through space.

Don’t think. Think on something else. She whispered-out a prayer, something in a language no crewman could understand, the noise like thick rolls of harried thunder. She focused on the words, each one flowing into the very next, and pon a whim, a thoughtless impulse, Leah’s hands began to wring, passing one over the other, one over the other, never ending.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think of those enemy pilots or the crews being sucked into vacuum. Don’t think of the cold bodies floating in space, little statues against the planet’s surface. Don’t think of those burned alive in the explosions, dead from slow suffocation, or the rest. Don’t think of the enemy because there might be people behind the mask, because then you might feel emotion. She’d heard them as they died.

Don’t. It was a harder thing to do than it sounds. She looked-about for something to do, some scrap of distraction, and thought on the ongoing repairs. Damage control had vented the deck some hour-and-a-half prior, killing the fires, though breaches still lined the hull. Internal structuring had been found to be somewhat damaged, meaning they would have to go into drydock, but…

Something froze her, a scream echoing as though it were down the hall, yet it couldn’t be there, no; it was a scream in the same way as laughing in your mind was laughter. Leah’s eyes shot-open as the scream turned into another and another and another, a chorus of fear that had no direction or escape. The XO turned frantic, looking-about for some source, the neat little stack of black uniform overturned to check the comm piece, to see if it was on. It wasn’t. Her eyes jumped-about the room, dancing on every item, trying to think of what could be making the screams, what could be the source, until they darted over the window.

Tell a child something, anything. Tell it to them every night and day, directly or indirectly, tell it in a song or story or culture, tell it and show it in the world. Hide the child away from anything that might disagree, always, and never blur that little line. Surround them with nodding heads, smiling faces, and never contradict.

Then betray that core principle, that something.

She looked down and could see the Imperial fleet, those Star Destroyers once identified as symbols of the Empire, of order and justice, raining-down fire onto the planet’s surface, and she could not tear those noises from her head. Millions, billions died there and Leah could hear them, could see them, each and every one, and wanted it all to stop.

Beat your head into the wall, tear at your hair and skull to rip the thoughts out, breathe-away to try to calm yourself, but the screams never stopped. Tears welled in her eyes and a ragged breath came; those people were civilians, dammit, some may be guilty yet there would never be enough for this. There could never be enough for this. That method, planetary bombardment, that wasn’t the method or tool that one would ever use as a weapon of fear.

It wasn’t a weapon of fear.

Leah cried herself away, cried until tears were mere memories. She cried and listened to the screams until there was no more to bear, and slipped-away into darkness. Before she slept, screams there, one might have heard a little thing if they were awake.

"Who I am is not important, my message is."

So ended the Battle of Terminus.

---

Quad laser Cannons Salvaged (4)
Concussion Missile Tubes Salvaged (4)
Double Turbolaser Cannons Salvaged (2)
Cutlass-9 Captured (1)

---

Active

Destroyed/Damaged

Missile Strikes
3x Nebulon-B Destroyed
1x DP-20 Damaged, Heavy
Captured

Dogfight
18x Cutlass-9 Destroyed
1x Cutlass-9 Damaged, Captured

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

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

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

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Bespin
Imperial Supply Depot

When Cyrene took his commlink and tapped it against her own to sync them, Martius thanked her then gently took his device back and returned it to its place on his belt. When the White Lady's ship landed in the hanger and she nodded a goodbye, Martius nodded in return then stood up from the crate as the shock of the Force disturbance began to wear down. As the Fiscality's ramp closed a number of Rebel transports and shuttles began lifting off and making their way back to the Dawn, and when the last Rebel craft was away, Martius, Eris, and the remaining Rebel troops made their way onto the Renascor then back to the cruiser. Once they were aboard, the Dawn left the system and the Jedi and Sith made their way to the Bridge, where they were informed the Admiral had received a coded message from Rebel Command to rendezvous at Orto Plutonia in the Pantoran System for an emergency meeting...

[Spindle]

Dance Floor
Royal Chambers
Katchan

"And so your shares continue to plummet." Cyrene sighed, eyes remorseful, locked to her dance partner's, "But how could that have happened? I just don't understand..."

"I don't know either..." Jaemus Cyrie - her partner, and one of the most corrupt Captains in the Oversector - sighed nasally. He was a tall man, of Core stock and it showed in everything he did and said. His uniform was just so, cut from cloth which would have cost any other Captain a month's pay and with his family's crest emblazoned proudly on its breast. If it weren't for his family's connections, that would have caused quite the stir: as it was, that crest was the closest thing to political armour as you could find out here. It was a good example of the Imperial system at its worst. If she hadn't been quite as disciplined as she was, she would have shot him long ago.

"Luck of the market, I suppose." He decided after a moment, "Still, quite a nuisance I must say. Cost me a small fortune."

Cost your parents a small fortune, more like.

Pushing away the thought Cyrene nodded sympathetically, sighing remorsefully once more as they followed the steps of the dance. It was a Core dance, of course - the Empire's social events could have nothing else - but Kuati, a particularly boring breed of the already tiresome Core dance. Apparently, all that time they'd spent building ships had knocked any sense of joy out of them. Either that or they were all born with two left feet and dances like this were all they could manage without causing serious diplomatic incidents. Still, she missed the dancing she had found from other cultures - Alderaanian ballroom, Mon Calamari Ballet, Force surrounding, even those ridiculous gyrations the Twi'Leks were so fond of were better than this.

But she was here as an Imperial guest, so she was going to have to dance to the Imperial tune.

"But you'll still be able to keep up your donations, yes?" She asked once it was clear Jaemus wasn't going to continue, "The Silverdew Foundation is a very important tool for preserving the integrity of the Empire as a whole. You know that."

"Of course, of course my dear." Jaemus smiled down at her, "You know how seriously I take corruption."

He lifted his arm and she spun, fingers twisting through his before they slotted back into their previous position. Like clockwork dolls, Cyrene reflected, suppressing a grimace at the thought. Yes, this dance was very...Imperial.

"Thank you so much." She breathed, eyelashes fluttering, "It's just that we have a hole in our finances somewhere and it's putting such a crimp on our ability to do...well, anything right now."

She caught the flash of satisfaction in his eyes from the corner of hers and pushed down a grin. He thought he was being clever.

"Of course." He repeated, gliding over the floor like a ghost, "It's the least I can do after all you've done for us."

"Me?" Cyrene asked, "I did nothing. I merely passed on a rumour, nothing more. It was you who did all of the actual work, if I remember correctly."

Jaemus laughed, a burst of noise better fit for a carrion-eater than a person of good breeding, and nodded slowly.

"I suppose you could say that." He agreed, "But really, they stood no chance. After all, how could mere pirates evade the likes of Jaemus Cyrie, Saviour of Dunnert?"

With great ease, most likely. Cyrene reflected dourly, After all, you haven't even noticed the Black Sun's reprisals yet, have you Jaemus? Of course not. That's what makes you such a good patsy. Oblivious and politically invulnerable. What a combination.

"Of course." She echoed, "Not to mention Fenwaal, too. That was a most impressive display of brilliance."

Irritation was visible on his face and Cyrene's mood lifted a little. Of course he wouldn't want Fenwaal brought up. He had been unconscious for the entirety of that engagement while his Lieutenants had run the ship for him. Not that the official report said that, of course, and the irritation was gone as soon as it had appeared.

"Why, thank you." He nodded with what could have passed for grace, locking up as the song ended, "And thank you for a most enjoyable dance, Miss Aurelia. I hope to see you soon."

"Likewise, Captain." Cyrene curtsied, before disappearing into the crowd and beelining for Parais.

"You look like you enjoyed that." He commented, sipping at his flute while his eyes followed one of the waiters unerringly, "The look of disgust is almost visible."

Cyrene's glare could have melted hull plating.

"Stow it." She ordered, "I've got far too much to do right now to deal with your bantha fodder."

"Of course." Parais drawled, "Because going after Captains is the way to bring down the Empire."

Cyrene reached out a white-gloved hand and snatched a flute of bubbling, crystal liquid. Sniffing it briefly, nose wrinkling, she contemplated it for a moment before sipping at it.

"Don't tell me." She sighed, "It's that local wine again, isn't it?"

"Of course it is." Parais grinned at her, "I take it you're not a fan?"

"Who can be a fan of it? It's like drinking Wroshyr bark."

"It's hardly that woody." Parais sighed melodramatically, affecting a Core accent, "But I digress. We were discussing your pressing need for time?"

"What's been happening, then?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Parais sipped at his flute again before nodding to a flamboyantly-dressed woman who was currently laughing uproariously with Jaemus and a group of his cronies:

"Governor Sarile's been with that group for a while - waiting for Jaemus is my guess. Though what exactly she wants from him is a mystery to me."

So she's noticed that someone's moving against him, then? I'll have to keep an eye on which way she tries to manipulate him.

Switching to a cluster of serious-faced men and women surrounding a pair of Moffs, Parais continued.

"Cersin and Tarlun remain, as ever, the hub of social interaction and it seems that everyone just wants a word or two. Presumably that's just the usual political jostling there: though I did notice Keriik having an unusually deep conversation with Tarlun. Make of that what you will."

The Cygni SpaceWorks representative? I knew he'd been channelling money into Cersin's coffers, but what does he want with Tarlun? Is he trying play them off against each other?

"We'll have to introduce ourselves to our hosts at some point." She sighed, "Not that Tarlun's bad conversation, of course, but Cersin...she's not very subtle. About anything."

"That can wait." Parais grinned, "I've saved the best for last. You see the young man currently being accosted by Lady Perre?"

Cyrene glanced across to see the young woman doing her best to persuade a man in an Imperial Navy uniform onto the dance floor, with little success from the looks of it. For a moment Cyrene's brain whirled as she tried to place the man's face before it clicked.

"Jionni Castaneda." She grinned slowly, "Hero of Terminus. The Empire's been quite keen to get his story out, haven't they?"

And I've been keen to get the real story out. Martius was a long was from pleased when he got that call...

"Of course they have." Parais nodded somberly, "They needed something to justify...that."

"And deflect the limelight away from it." Cyrene agreed, "So they thrust him onto a pedestal and abandon him there..."

"You think you're going to shock me with where this train of thought takes you, don't you?" Parais sighed, "Don't. I know what you're thinking and just don't."

"Oh, why not? If I don't, someone else will. And they'll not be as scrupulous as me."

"Scrupulous? Really?"

Cyrene glared at him.

"How do I look?"

"Stunning." Parais sighed, "You had Jaemus drooling over you."

"Jaemus would drool over a particularly curvaceous thumper." Cyrene growled, smoothing down the emerald fabric of her dress, "Am I giving off the right impression?"

"The impression I'm getting is irritation. Is that what you were going for?"

Gathering up her raven hair and letting it cascade down the side of her face, she shot Parais another glare.

"Better? Worse?"

"You realise the subtleties of your hair will almost certainly be lost on him, yes?"

"Because he's a Captain?"

"Because he's male."

Her eyes narrowed at him for a moment before Cyrene pulled her hair back and let it flow down her back. Inclining his head at that, Parais smiled.

"You'll do great." He nodded, eyes flitting to the approaching waiter, "Now if you'll excuse me, darling - hello there, you. I hope you remember last year..."

Leaving Parais to his flirtations, Cyrene let the current of people drag her this way and that as she flitted from group to group, conversation to conversation, always edging her way closer and closer towards Castaneda. Jaemus and those like him were easier to deal with than someone she'd only incidentally met before - they already thought the way she wanted them to. Someone entirely new - and with multiple brain cells, from the looks of his history - was going to be an entirely different matter. And a much more challenging one. Emerging from the crowd with a faked stumble, she swayed into Lady Perre and looked up apologetically.

"I'm so sorry - Lady Perre! How are you?"

"I'm great!" Perre replied with a forced grin, "Have you ever met Captain Castaneda before?"

"The Hero of Terminus?" Cyrene grinned, "Not yet. But have you met Tarkin?"

Perre straightened visibly.

"Tarkin's here?"

"In the flesh." Cyrene grinned, "I actually spoke with him!"

The calculations were visible in Perre's eyes.

"If you'll excuse me then, Captain, Aurelia." She nodded slowly before disappearing into the crowd. Cyrene felt her body relax a little with that.

"I am so sorry about her." She sighed, "But that ought to buy you half an hour or so before he realises it's Nearii, not Wilhuff. Cearys Aurelia, at your service Captain."

[Tayner]

Commander Biran Nalatracer
The Resonance, Task Force Lo
Dankayo Base

"Thank you for the information, Commander." The local rebel intelligence officer said. "This gives us up to date information on Imperial ship movements and some ISB intelligence, and that's just what we've decoded." The woman said.

"Aye. Hand this over to high command." He said, before turning to leave.

"Speaking of high command, did you hear about this meeting they're calling?" She said.

"No" Biran replied.

"The Imperials destroyed Terminus, Command's all torn up about it." She said. Just if on cue Biran's communicator went off. He picked up the device, preferring it over a hologram projector for it's privacy, and answered. He spoke a few words before putting the device in his pocket and turning to the intelligence officer. "Let me guess..." She said to Biran as he turned to face her.

"Yup." He said, and with that he left, and boarded his ship to head to the headquarters, which was over Orto Plutonia in the Pantoran system. "Set in a course to Home One." He said.

Hours later they exited hyperspace, and the wholeness of the Rebel Fleet amazed him, hundreds of ships, a few dozen capital ships, the works. "Contact Home One, see if you can dock our captured ship there for repairs. We'll head down to the surface on this ship, and the rest of the task force will take up an orbit of the planet. Contact the ground side, tell them we're on our decent."

"Aye aye."

[New Roman Empire]

Siln & Corana

The alarms went silent as they slowly died down, "what, why would they turn off the alarm system? Don't they still think we are here or is there something else going on?" She whispered as she looked over the crates they were sitting behind. A squad of troopers just marched past going somewhere, she didn't have a good feeling about this. The whole situation didn't make any sense at all, so what is going on here? I figured they would keep that alarm raised until they caught us....Unless they think they have us trapped or something bigger is at play that we don't know. She looked up at the night sky it was cloudy now. Search lights flooded the whole courtyard and were forming patterns that seemed to change.

pew, pew, pew Several blaster bolts hit the crate next to her, Siln stood up and blocked several more bolts before deflecting them back at the troopers. Now the Alarms were once again blaring and she felt him grab her hand and dragged her along behind him. They were now pinned down at the gate that they needed to get through to escape and hopefully get off the planet before its locked down. "Go! ill cover you!" Barked Siln as he stood up and started to deflect several. bolts as she started to rush towards the gate when suddenly several troopers appeared at the once empty gate.

She froze in her tracks, she started to breath short shallow breaths. She felt like that there wasn't enough air. She was completely immobilized by fear or something like it, this was something she wasn't sure how to respond to. She only panicked more as she saw them raise their blasters at her. Suddenly time seemed to slow down as she felt as if she was being tackled as she felt a hand wrap around her and lifted her off the ground. She looked over to see Siln had picked her up and time seemed to of slowed itself as they turned the corner she noticed around his stomach there was blood. Once they were out of sight he dropped to the ground and was breathing heavily. "What......thank you! You saved my life," she blurted out as she helped him to his feet and back to the space port. "Droid, get us out of here!" She ordered as the ramp was closed behind her as she took Siln to his quarters as the droid followed her back with a series of noises. "Get us to the outer Rim! Just anywhere but here!" She barked as the droid did a 180 an raced to the cock pit and a few seconds later she felt the hum of the ship engine and felt the ship take off.

She set Siln down on the bed as she grabbed some medical supplies and set them on the bed. She helped him remove his shirt so she could see the wound, "how did you manage to do that let along why did you do that?" She asked.

Siln winced in pain as she started to clean the wound, "the force has its abilities now as to why. It was my fault you were in this situation in the first place. I pushed you sooner than I should have and if you would have been killed that would have been on me." He was a bit light headed but, it was nothing he hadn't dealt with before. "Besides, I protect those who cant fight for themselves-" he was interrupted by Corana kissing him.

"Now shut up and let me see if I cant at least stop the bleeding," he argued as she finished cleaning the wound and closed it up. She sat up straight and met his eyes, "there that should at least hold though I don't have any real experience with this stuff. I did however learn from my father a bit when it came to this," she babbled on as she leaned in again and kissed him again. This time there was a shock that seemed to joint from him but, he didn't seem bothered by the fact. "Thank you again for saving me," she smiled as she interlocked her hand with his.

Several hours later

Siln at in the cockpit looking out into the blue of hyperspace. R9 was in sleep mode in a corner and activated at the vibrations of someone exited the lift. "You know you could have stayed in there right?" she chuckled as she took stood next to Siln. She could sense the tension that he gave off once she approached.

"Yeah but, I don't know something felt off so I came to the bridge to clear my head. This was something I wanted but, I don't know I feel very weird now. I'm not entirely sure why," he stammered.

She leaned on the console, the ship had a skeleton crew of people they had picked up before their op on Naboo. But now they wouldnt have to do everything themselves with a crew of 25 the place didnt seem so empty anymore. "Look that wasnt something because you saved me, it was soemthing that felt right and you obvisouly felt the same way. I felt close to you when we started to train and then when you saved me...It I could sense what you were feeling, we should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few hours. So I'm going to head back to bed," she added and walked back towards the lfit.

He sighed and walked towards teh back of teh bridge to where there was a holotable. We are out of Imeprial space so I guess its time to send a message to the rebels. They probably could use the help not to mention they could probably use the Amber.

All Rebel forces that can hear this,

I am Jedi Knight Siln Tarkin of the Amber, I have stayed out of the Rebellion for far too long. I am looking to assist the cause and fight the Empire and the crew that I have are willing to do so as well. With in this message is my location, may the force be with you.

Paladin Squad
Operation Brimstone
Mantooine

"Commander, there is a shipment of weapons over there," informed Vepp as she handed the minoculars over to Rokri who took them with his left hand and looked down at the area she mentioend. "They seem to be ready to move these weapons somewhere, I wasnt expecting them to be this well armed or have this much equipment. I would suggest that we move carefully not to alart them," she advised as she was handed back the minoculars.

Rokri looked over at his squad as it was pouring rain, their armor was black with red accents which helped them blend into the night to some extent. "Kelelle provide over watch while the rest of us move in to position closer to the camp. If you see any single man patrols that arnt around anyone take the shot and make our jobs easier," he ordered as she gave a nodd and took up a concealed position on the hill. The rest of the squad slowly made their way down the hill and tried to stay out of sight.

"Commander where do you think these guys are getting their equipment? They have to be getting it somewhere," advised Mror'lir'iagu as he scanned the area infront of him with his blaster. He was a valuable assault expert for the squad and knew how to plan attacks if the need arose. But the night seemed to be their best friend right now.

[Ormata]

Captain Jionni Castaneda
Katchan
Katchan System

The stars hung in the sky, the vessel was in drydock for repairs and additions, and leave had been declared for most. A skeleton crew was still stationed on the Isaac’s Wrath, but for the most part those were volunteers for whom pride and suspicion prevented full trust with the dockyard gangs, along with a Marine detachment to keep the shoreside personnel company for the duration of their visit. The crew was happy for the most part, as happy as they could be. Yet, the Captain was still dissatisfied with how everything was. He was more than happy enough to get his people off the ship for a few days, yet there was still something overshadowing the leave. He’d felt it since that Holonet recording.

The Hero of Terminus. It didn’t feel right.

They talked about how very courageous the Captain had been, jumping so close to an enemy squadron and eschewing the main fleet for honor and glory. The talked of his engagement as though he were a Tapani noble with a lightfoil, lip curled in disdain to fight a riotous brute. They had even the gall to exclaim that the Captain was solely responsible for the victory against the Federation fleet; Jionni had a feeling that it wouldn’t be too long before someone suggested his display routed them, that they had been afraid. It grew a pit in his stomach, those bold-faced lies, yet there was the thing.

Break that official truth and you reveal all too well that was only a farce, a happenstance cover. A blind man who knew the entire story could see the reasons why; there had to be smoke, something the masses would listen to, something to placate them. There always had to be, with the naysayers drown-out as liars or rebels, perhaps as simply insane. Someone might try to talk, yet ISB had many ears and always a lie or convenient truth handy. He could remember the same damn thing when Alderaan happened, yet he hadn’t been there and all that ever had been heard was muddled. A thought crossed his mind briefly, a plan sparking before it was shoved aside for later.

Jionni had his contacts, higher-ups and Captains back on Coruscant. There was some talk of playing into the glory, awarding one medal or some other such scrap. Refusal, however, would be unacceptable to superiors, and so he had but one path and wishful thoughts on what could happen.

He talked with some, including a pilot with the 907th who had the luck to find a lone pirate frigate while on patrol which had been murdered via torpedo-to-bridge syndrome, a researcher of his who was quite pleasant to chat to, and a few others, before then being approached by a most noble, well...noble. Tapani, most likely.

"I'm so sorry - Lady Perre! How are you?"

"I'm great!" Perre replied with a forced grin, "Have you ever met Captain Castaneda before?"

"The Hero of Terminus?" Cyrene grinned, "Not yet. But have you met Tarkin?"

Perre straightened visibly.

"Tarkin's here?"

"In the flesh." Cyrene grinned, "I actually spoke with him!"

The calculations were visible in Perre's eyes.

"If you'll excuse me then, Captain, Aurelia." She nodded slowly before disappearing into the crowd. Cyrene felt her body relax a little with that.

"I am so sorry about her." She sighed, "But that ought to buy you half an hour or so before he realises it's Nearii, not Wilhuff. Cearys Aurelia, at your service Captain."

“Quite fine, quite fine. Tarkins are...Tarkins,” Jionni replied with a small smile, leaning onto his cane with the Imperial gray uniform on, his hat in the crook of his arm and a small glass in the other. “Captain Castaneda, at yours. Quite the gala, I must say.”