Star Wars: The Empire's Finest (IC/Reboot)

[Just-An-Illusion]

Outer Rim
ISD Judgement

It had been one year since the destruction of the Death Star and to many it felt like yesterday it was destroyed. Some still grieved for the soldiers who lost their lives in the explosions while some have replaced that grief with hate and anger towards the Rebel Alliance. This was the case with Commander Alesav Karnu, who lost her father on the Death Star while he was stationed there. Alesav had always admired her father's loyalty to both the Republic and the Empire, her father was a true hero to the Empire along with all the others who died on the Death Star. She still remembered the day she received the news of her father's death and to this day she is still pained by the loss of her father. However, Alesav knew it was time to move on from her lost and turn her grief into anger against the Rebellion, she will do whatever it takes to end the Rebel Alliance once and for all so that she may avenge his death.

While Alesav was deep in her thoughts she sat in the crew quarters alone looking at a datapad that contained information about the next mission the fleet will be going on. Apparently the ISB has discovered a rebel cell on an unknown Outer Rim planet, where the rebels are using an old shipyard to repair their starfighters and ships. If this shipyard was taken out, then the Rebel fleet would be weakened, and the Empire would be one step closer to victory and a step closer to restoring order and peace to the galaxy. Alesav had already debriefed her squad about the mission and as the squad leader, she expects that her TIE Squadron will get the job done in helping destroy the rebel shipyard. Failure was not an option; the rebels would soon feel the wrath of the Imperial Navy. After looking over the datapad one last time, Alesav set the datapad on her desk before standing up and leaving the crew quarters.

She thought it was best to check up on her squad who were eating in the cafeteria after she dismissed them after the debriefing. It would be hours until the fleet arrived at its destination and there was plenty of time to have a casual conversation with her squadron. While walking down the hallways of the Star Destroy, Alesav would pass by a few Stormtroopers as well as Officers until finally reaching the cafeteria and going over to the table where her squad sat at.

"Finally decided to get out of the room Commander?" A young TIE Fighter pilot named Cyrkas (Alpha 2) asked, before biting into a piece of bread as he looked at his squad leader.

"Just wanted to check up on you guys and chat for a bit. After all we have some time to kill before we reach our destination." Alesav answered as she sat down at the table.

"Well, it's good that you joined us Commander. We were just talking about our plans after this whole war is over." Another TIE Pilot named Kaelbri (Alpha 3) said as she looked at Alesav.

"Plans after the war huh, I'll admit I never thought about that sort of stuff before." Alesav said.

"What about you guys? Do have any plans after this war is over?"

"Hopefully, a nice new ship to explore the galaxy without worrying about rebel X-Wings trying to shoot me out of the sky." A TIE Pilot named Berryd (Alpha 4) said as he finished his meal.

"I mean sure I know we get to explore the galaxy with the fleet, but once I retire, I'll finally get a chance to mingle with the locals a bit."

"I see so you want to charm women with your new ship. Can't say I'm surprised that you would do something like that." Alesav said with a slight chuckle.

"What about you Commander? What do you plan on doing after this whole war is over?" Cyrkas asked.

"Like I said... I never thought about that sort of stuff. Military life has always been the lifestyle of my family, well at least on my father's side at least." Alesav explained as she began to think about her future in the Imperial Navy.

"I guess I can always rent a nice house back on my home world once I reach my old age."

Before the group of TIE Fighter pilots could continue their conversation, the comms of the Star Destroyer came on.

"Attention all personnel we will be arriving at our destination in one hour. We need all hands ready!" The comms said before shutting off.

It wasn't long before everyone in the cafeteria started to stand up from their tables and leave to prepare for the next mission. Alesav along with her squad got up from the table and started heading back to their quarters to put on their TIE Fighter pilot suits on, so that they would be prepared to hop into their TIE Fighters once the fleet arrived at the planet.

[The Imperial Republic]

Sosa Tumara, TK-6687
On Patrol Duties 38 Kilometers northeast of New Antar City, Atzerri

"Your father would be rolling over in his grave, Sosa...."

Those words rattled through Sosa's mind as he sat upon the rotted hull of a massive fallen tree, looking out over the heavily wooded area. The last words spoken to him by his mother before being shipped off with the rest of the 337th. He'd taken his helmet off and rested both the helmet and his E-11 rifle down next to him, taking a break with the rest of his squad after six hours of constant patrolling through the forests of Atzerri. Below the massive tree sat the Imperial-class Repulsortank 1-H his squad rode in, snuggled into a crevice between the tree and the ground, fitting perfectly into the pocket. It worked as a great place to hide their heavy weapon should the Gotal insurgency on this planet decide to target his squad today. After a few bombings on the remote Imperial outposts here and because of it's close proximity with Coruscant, the Empire needed this planet under control immediately. Since the arrival of the 1159th Armored Division, the unit before his own, over 3,000 Gotals had been killed, both in ambushes and executions. While it was quiet where Sosa was, the planet was under constant siege. There were at least ninety-five other squads just like his searching through the forests, destroying hidden supply caches, slaughtering Gotal resistance fighters and searching for the main Insurgent base. It just so happened that Sosa's squad was appointed over the sector with the least recorded firefights, an area known as Sector A-4. While the Sector was quiet, nothing stood out quite so much as the old wreckage of a Venator-Class Star Destroyer, a relic of a by-gone era. Local rumors and fairy tales told by the local Gotals said the hulking starship was brought down by a single Jedi, a Jedi responsible for this insurgency's creation, though those reports couldn't be confirmed. Regardless, Atzerri Command based in New Antar City instructed all Imperial forces to keep at least 1 kilometer away from the Venator, saying it was "off-limits". But Sosa couldn't keep his curiosity down. He'd always been so fascinated with the Clone Wars and the Republic and their fight against the Confederacy of Independent Systems. A time of the Jedi Order... Sosa kept repeating. At times, he thought about volunteering for speeder duty, going out on patrol as a forward scout and reporting back whatever he saw. How hard would it have been just to simply go there, investigate the wreckage, actually be inside of a piece of history? But the risk would have been greater than the reward. He was sure someone would find out and report him. Command would either send him off to become a prison guard or discharge him. Both of which he feared of greatly.

"TK-6687! Get off your ass and get down here! We're moving out!" Called his superior officer, TK-1187 as the 1-H Repulsortank slowly creeped out of the hiding spot, the rest of the six man squad either climbing inside or taking a seat on top of the tank. Sosa got up, picked his helmet and rifle up and slowly made his way down from the fallen tree, a tree that seemed to have been more than a thousand years old. The squad had already begun to move out by the time Sosa climbed down. Fearing he'd be left behind, he ran after the tank.

"Hey! Hang on!" He shouted out. Two of the Stormtroopers looked back and laughed as the tank never slowed down.

"Should have moved faster, Zabrak! I'll make sure to report your inability to follow orders to Atzerri Command!" TK-1187 said as the Repulsortank continued off without him. Sosa stopped running, panting and breathing heavy as the hum of the Imperial tank grew quieter and quieter.

"Damn it." He said as he continued walking.

[Flarbinia]

Phillipi System

The Mutina exited hyperspace, Rebels and Imperials already engaged in combat. "It looks like we've lost the element of surprise. Divert as much power as we can spare to weapons and forward shields! We're joining the fray! " Captain Decimus shouted to his men, the bridge crew of the Mutina immediately beginning to power up the Mutina's defenses as it moved into range. A squadron of Y-Wings immediately headed towards the Mutina. "Remember, Copper Squad. Our leader and his second-in-command need Captain Decimus alive so that he can be questioned. If we kill him, this whole ambush would be for nothing, so don't get any itchy trigger fingers." Copper Leader said to the men and women under his command as they continued moving towards their target as TIE Fighters were immediately deployed. "Are these antiques the best my brother and my former squad mate can send against me? The Rebellion has grown overconfident since Yavin and that overconfidence is their weakness. By the end of this battle, Decius and Cyrus will be dead or leaving the Phillipi System in chains. Either way, this victory will be a much needed morale boost for the men." Captain Decimus confidently said to the bridge crew as the TIEs flew towards the Y-Wings, opening fire the very second they got in range.

[The Imperial Republic]

Sosa Tumara, TK-6687
On Patrol Duties 42 kilometers north of New Antar City

---

"Should have run faster, Zabrak!"

It felt as if Sosa had been walking for an eternity. Since his squad left him behind, he'd slung his E-11 blaster over his back and strapped his helmet to his belt, both for better sight and mobility. His shin pads had grown dark brown from walking through mud and dirt, splatters of it even adorning his chestplate from accidentally slipping once. Since he'd been left, he tried to radio in to his squad, to TK-1187. No reply. Instead of calling into Command and having to explain to his superiors why he'd been left behind, he chose to attempt to follow the same path they might take, and get to walking. It seemed like for so long he'd been lost in his own head, contemplating his life, why he wanted this. This was nothing he thought it would be when he first enlisted. Maybe if he'd been born a Human, instead of a Zabrak/Arkanian hybrid, his position would have been better.

His thoughts were ripped from him as he heard a massive explosion that rattled his chest, followed by faint blasterfire coming from the north, the same direction as the explosion. Fearing for the lives of his squad, he began to run, sprinting across the hills and forest. He'd slung his blaster back over and into his hands, panting heavily as he ran. The blasterfire grew louder as he began to near where the explosion had come from and in the distance, roughly four hundred yards away, he saw a plume of smoke and brief flutters of red and green bolts, indicating a battle. As he squinted to try to look closer, he noticed soldiers dressed in white. Stormtroopers. From the top of the hill he was on, he threw his helmet back on and activated the communicator. "TK-1187, do you copy? Are you engaged?" He said over the radio. No response.

"TK-1187, this is TK-6687, do you read me?" there was a brief patter of static before he heard the familiar voice of his commanding officer.

"Zabrak?! You still out there?! We're pinned down! I need you to call in a-ahh!" After the Commander's frantic response, there was nothing. Silence. Even the blasterfire below had subsided.

"TK-1187? Do you copy? Commander?" Without another word, he took a deep breath and begun to make his way down to the site of the battle.

---

Sosa made his way down to the site of the battle. Laid bare in front of him were the bodies of both Stormtroopers and Gotal fighters. He counted them as he walked towards the flaming ruin of what was the patrol squad's 1H Repulsortank, taken out early on in the ambush. "H-hello!?" Yelled out Sosa as he continued walking through the carnage, his blaster raised high as his eyes scanned through, searching for targets, his helmet's holographic display helping disseminate some of the other data, such as displaying TK codes of the nearby dead Stormtroopers, one of those being his commander, TK-1187.

"Oh, not good..." he said audibly, loud enough for his helmet's speaker to catch. He stopped only a few feet from the burned out hover tank, taking in what had become of his routine patrol.

That's when he heard the familiar sounds of blaster fire pick up again, a few bolts landing at his feet, more impacting the tank behind him. Sosa let out a gasp as he instinctively pointed his blaster to where he believed the fire to be coming from. He looked quickly and saw more Gotal insurgents, counting at least ten. He was scared, knowing that he wouldn't stand a chance, he turned and ran. For a while, he watched the bolts fly past his head, but kept his composure, focusing on his run, his breathing. He kept his rifle in his hands.

Then a bolt of green energy smashed into his shoulder pad, the sound of the energy crackling apart his plasteel shoulder armor sent the Stormtrooper into a frenzy. He panicked, dropping his E-11 blaster rifle and taking off in a dead sprint. He didn't care where he went, just as long as he lived through this.

[United Islands of Polis]

Sergeant Colter Justaerin [CALLSIGN: Epsilon 15-3]
New Antar City, Atzerri

No more than a week ago, Death Trooper unit Epsilon 15 was deployed to Atzerri after the destruction of the Death Star battlestation. The area was already a known location of rebel activity, but suppressed significantly to a point of dormancy. However, with the death of the majority of the most important leaders of Imperial High Command, bolstered the rebels to send more equipment and support to Atzerri. It was becoming a nuisance.

Colter moved out of the secluded building. He had finished his attempt at peacefully getting the Gotal insurgents to talk, however, Epsilon 15-2 had stepped in and began extracting information. The hammering of fists and things being thrown around inside, alongside the sound of static was emanating from the abandoned house. They were situated somewhere in what could be considered as the slums area, it was desolate now ever since the fighting. Several minutes passed, Colter had simply stood outside, looking at his motion sensors as Stormtrooper and Imperial Army units moved about, but then the door opened, and a Death Trooper peeked out.

"15-3, get in." Epsilon 15-1 said.

Colter stepped in and saw several of them in different states of health, none of them good. Pressing a button on his wrist pad, the voice scrambler of his helmet went from only intelligible by other Death Troopers, to intelligible, but unidentifiable. "Hey, pal. Where's the main holdout? Even a minor one will do."

"It is everywhere and anywhere, you just have to look." the Gotal replied, hatred in his response.

"Oh?" Came Colter's distorted voice. "Perhaps you would like to be more... specific."

Colter brandished the DC-17 from his pistol holster, showing it to the captives, moving to the next one. They all had their hands tied behind their backs, feet as well just to be extra sure. Colter walked about the line, examining the facial features of each captive, most were young, the others were definitely veterans of this terrible war. They would know for sure. He got one of the younger ones, dragging them by their horns, putting him in front of one of the veterans, and then putting the blaster pistol to the head.

Colter looked at the veteran. "I am going to count to three. If I don't hear a location, the kid's life expectancy is about to plummet severely."

"One."

Nothing.

"Two."

A look of regret washed over the veteran.

Colter didn't bother to count to three as he pulled the trigger, a red blaster bolt hitting the young Gotal in the back instead. He was alive, and he felt everything. Epsilon 15-1 saw that there was no response from them, and spoke, static coming out of the figure. Colter understood this as permission to go further, and unloaded more than a dozen more rounds into the dying insurgent in places of non-vital organs. He may have died by the fifth shot. There was still a lack of response, and as such, another two took a shot to the gut, writhing in pain, silently at least.

"Shut up and take it like a man." Epsilon 15-4 kicked one moaning in pain in the wound area.

"Northeast! There are a lot of groups operating in the northeast! Now just leave us alone!" One of the younger Gotals screamed, putting his head to the floor, shameful for having revealed information.

Colter kneeled to the Gotal. "See, if you had simply answered in the first try, none of this would have happened."

Switching back to the full Death Trooper voice encryption, Colter looked to his squad leader for instructions, which he only replies by going outside with the jab of a thumb. Everyone left the building, except for Epsilon 15-5, who stayed behind, pointing their DLT-19 repeating blaster at them in case one of them decided to try escaping.

Epsilon 15-1 stepped in front of them, to address the squad. “Good work, gentlemen. In any case, they will be picked up by Imperial authorities to be put in prison camps. As soon as they are in custody we will make for the northeast, get some air support as well if ever.”

“Are we walking there?” Epsilon 15-2 asked, half joking.

Epsilon 15-1 shook his head. “We got those BARC speeders for a reason, Baldrick. Unless you fancy walking, then be my guest.”

Northeast of New Antar, Atzerri

Luckily for them, Imperial authorities by that time, a squad of Storntroopers, were nearby, and so were able to leave immediately. Epsilon 15 was now in the forest, speeding through trails, looking for any signs of a stronghold. Their BARC speeders, clad partly in reflec, and black paint, played host to some mobile sensor suites, and an additional seat in the back in the event one of them loses a speeder. Death Trooper helmets and equipment already had such sensors, however a more powerful one was needed if they wanted to end this rebellion in at least under a month. The squad had not split up since they could be picked off one by one. They were speeding through in formation, their heads on a swivel.

Colter looked to his right, the neural interface in his helmet bringing up a sensor reading, it contained several small dots, however, from previous experiences, they were mainly small animals. That was until a dot seemed to be coming to them, at speed.

“Contact! Dead ahead!” Colter’s encrypted voice rang out.

Epsilon 15-1, identified as Captain Varlan, gave hand signals to spread out temporarily. “Callsigns from this point on, gentlemen. Try to take them alive.”

With the flick of the wrist, Epsilon 15-3 sped off faster, his augmentations allowing him to see almost perfectly despite the breakneck speed he was going at. The dor was close, but the sensors were wide reaching, there's no telling if they'd reach the contact in five minutes, or one hour. They'll just have to keep going.

[Okayanos]

Captain Aldolin Hernwick
Aerial Patrol 100 kilometers east of New Antar City

---

New Beginnings

When he had been a child, and again when he had been confined to the bridges of capital ships, Hernwick had dreamed of flying. He had dreamed of feeling the pulsing of ion engines at his back, the rumbling of the cockpit beneath him, and seeing the stars spread out before him. Never had he imagined that it would feel routine. But as his TIE Raider sped over Atzerri's treetops, Hernwick could only feel that he'd done this before. Maybe he was just too old for the thrill of flight. As he weaved between two particularly high trees, Hernwick decided that his situation could be worst.

He pulled the TIE Raider's nose back and pushed power to the engines, ion engines whining at a higher pitch as the craft soared up to a higher altitude. Sensor readouts began to light up in the cockpit- the ordnance bay was taken up by enhanced scanning equipment, leaving less room for an explosive payload. That had been one of the reasons the Empire had adopted the TIE Raider- its ability to carry any kind of equipment that could be attached to its hardpoints. Of course, if the heads of the Imperial Starfighter Corps had their way, the life support and shields would be stripped out of later models to reduce production costs.

"This is Sol Leader, starting patrol, sector C-7. Sol Squadron, fan out and cover as much ground as possible. I shouldn't have to remind you how heavily the success of this campaign depends on us." Hernwick spoke into his radio. He knew that attack squadrons like Sol got the short end of the stick from the higher-ups- Starfighter Corps believed that dogfighting was the true role of a pilot, and attacking terrestrial emplacements was something that didn't take skill. No matter how much proof was shown, their outlooks remained unchanging. And so, Sol Squadron was nearly always last on the list to receive new shipments of spare parts, ordnance, fuel, and every other essential. Their only choice was to become better pilots, in spite of the handicap they were left with.

A chorus of replies sounded off as Sol One, Sol Two, Sol Three, and so on checked in, confirming they were in position. The TIE Raiders were a wide net, cast out to catch the Gotals wherever they might be.

[The Imperial Republic]

Sosa Tumara, TK-6687
LOCATION UNKNOWN

---

After what felt like hours, Sosa collapsed to the ground, mud caking his gloves as his body gave out from exhaustion. He struggled to breath as sweat dripped from his forehead, a bewildered look in his eye. He no longer could hear the Gotals behind him, nor their wild blaster shots jolting around him. Now that he could stop and breath, recomposed himself, leaning up onto his knees. For a long moment, all he did was focus on his breathing, regaining composure and coming to blissful terms with the fact that he had survived what his squad could not. He was glad his commander left him behind. Being a Zabrak in the Imperial Military turned out to have saved his life. With all of his might, he pulled the Stormtrooper helmet off of his head and threw it down, relishing in the cooler breeze as the right side of the helmet plopped down into thick mud. It was at that moment that he was staring at the portside of an overgrown hulk of a massive starship. Peering through the thick blanket of vines and trees was difficult, but he spotted what seemed to be two towers jutting out from the top, the looks of windows reflecting the clouded sun above. "No way..." He said as he finally understood what he was staring at. This mountain of rusted metal and broken windows was what used to be one of those old Venator-Class Star Destroyers, a ship that saw much action in the fabled Clone Wars. As he lifted his head further, he became speechless and all he could do was scan the wreckage. While he was impressed with seeing an old piece of junk like this up close, it reminded him exactly of how far he'd gotten from his patrol zone and from Command. He scrambled to pick his helmet back up and activated the built-in communications module, the entire right side now coated brown with chunky and wet dirt.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Sector A-4 Patrol Squad. I repeat, this is TK-6687 from Sector A-4 Patrol. Requesting emergency assistance at this grid. My entire squad's been wiped out in an Insurgent ambush. I am the only survivor. I repeat, this is TK-6687 requesting immediate extraction from Sector A-4, do you copy?

Nothing. Not even static. Sosa sighed. "Damn faulty comms!" He yelled out, smacking the side of his helmet, slapping into the wet mud and slinging some in all directions.

"New Antar City, do you copy? Imperial Command, this is TK-6687, do you read me? Does anyone read me?!" Yelled Sosa. Then, he heard static. He could discern no voices, but the sound of static grew in intensity. "Yes, this is..." The distinctly female voice was cut short by static. "....nassa of the Rep..." was all he heard before the static simply cut away, leaving him in eerie silence. "This is TK-6687, repeat your last, I did not copy. Repeat, repeat your last transmission, I did not copy. Hello? You....you there?" Without any response and the sun beginning to set, the Zabrak Stormtrooper had no choice. His helmet had begun to scan the wreckage, sending back information on the ship. It was indeed a Venator-Class Star Destroyer, still flashed it's Old Republic-era codes. After a bit more scanning, the helmet identified a possible entryway into the ship, a small airlock just west of it's station docking port, most likely used for exterior repairs. As nighttime fast approached, he had little choice but to find cover inside. Without a weapon, he was useless and should the Gotals find him, they'd either kill him or capture him. Both were detrimental to his own health. At this point, he could only evaluate the facts. His squad was now K.I.A, he was missing his weapon, and he could get no identifiable response from Command in New Antar City, which would seem nigh impossible due to the fact that Empire comms never just didn't work. Regardless, his first priority was his own survival. He made his way to the airlock.

---

The trek to the airlock, considering it was too high to climb up, was a dangerous one. He climbed a couple of loose cables to the station docking port and scaled the hulking ruin. As he climbed into the airlock entrance, he pulled his helmet off again, basking in the cool open air surrounding him. If it wasn't for the tech inside, he'd have thrown this damn bucket away long ago. Sosa breathed for a bit, relaxing his tense and worn muscles from the climb and examined his surroundings. He saw an old interface panel with several buttons on it, some red and others white. As he was mostly correct in believing there would be no power systems to operate the panel, he looked for an alternate way to enter. As he wasn't a technician for an Imperial vessel, he knew absolutely nothing of ship systems, especially an old Venator. From his sitting position, he looked around next to the panel of dead electronics and his eye caught what looked like a removable panel. With little choice at this point, he slowly and painfully stood, groaning as he did. He walked over to the panel and slid his fingers behind a loose section of the panel and pulled down, easily prying the panel away, revealing what appeared to be a crank. He grabbed tightly onto the handle and pulled the small crank in a circle, continuing the same cycle, a faint whirring sound could be heard from the inside as he did. Red lights began flickering from around the crank, showing power levels rising from red that would morph into a greenish color as he spun the crank. Soon, the lights on the electronic panel were alight brightly but quickly began to fade in brightness. Quickly, Sosa relinquished the crank and pressed down the largest red button. As soon as he did, the lighting flickered out as the old rusted door made a clunking sound, which had been the door's magnetic locks releasing and sliding open only three or so inches.

It was enough for Sosa to smile wide. "No...way....you're kidding me!" He said with a smile. Not only would he have some semblance of shelter this night, but in something as historic as the birth of the Empire! Sosa retrieved his helmet and placed it once again over his head. With both hands, he grasped the doors and with all of his might, tried to pull them apart. He groaned loudly as they began to budge, the sound of rust giving way was evident as the doors creaked. With enough space to slip through, the Zabrak Stormtrooper turned his body to the side and slid his way in, revealing a small ten by ten foot room with another door as identical as the one he'd just moved through. "Ah...an airlock." He said, miserably. While some of the dark grey room had some rust present, it was much more well preserved than the exterior. With luck, Sosa had been able to find a panel similar to that of outside and activated the room's emergency crank generator, forcing small amounts of power towards the door and panels slowly but surely.

Going through the same procedure as before, he slid the doors open much easier this time. Before him laid a long hallway of dark grey walls and dormant lighting that looked similar to that of an Imperial Star Destroyer's interior lighting. He took a deep breath and made his way inside, activating his helmet's night vision function to assist in seeing what was ahead of him. As of now, he felt as if he was safer than what he had been and moved from survival to re-arming in case the Gotal resistance fighters tracked him down. If there was anything here he could use as a blaster, he'd find it, no matter how outdated it was.

[Just-An-Illusion]

After hours of travelling through hyperspace, the ISD Judgement along the rest of its fleet arrived in the rebel held star system where the orbital shipyard was kept. Inside the Judgement, the ship's alarm rang throughout the hanger as TIE Pilots got into starfighters ready to fly out into space. Inside Alesav's TIE Fighter, the commander could be seen pressing serval buttons and switches to make sure her starfighter was operational. After serval minutes of checking all systems, Alesav along with her TIE squadron soon flew out of the hanger along with the rest of the TIE Fighters. Once they were out the hanger, Alesav ordered Alpha Squadron to stay in formation until they engaged rebel starfighters. Up ahead, the TIE Squadron could see a medium size rebel fleet protecting an orbital shipyard also in the distance were dozens of X-Wings, Y-Wings, and A-Wings heading towards the Judgement's fleet.

"Alpha Squadron break formation! Engage all rebel fighters! Keep them away from the fleet!" Alesav ordered as her squadron along with the rest of the TIE Fighters began engaging the rebels.

It wasn't long before the dark void of space was lit up by green and red laser lights as both sides began swarming each other. While TIE Fighters engaged rebel starfighters, the Judgement and its fleet soon started to fire upon the rebel fleet protecting the orbital shipyard. Alesav's mission was simple, she and her squadron are to protect the fleet from rebel starfighters until they got a clear shot on the orbital shipyard. So far Alesav had taken out five Y-Wings and ten X-Wings in this battle keeping the fleet safe from rebel bombing runs. Alesav could feel the adrenaline course through her body every time she shot a rebel down with each rebel she killed, Alesav would feel satisfaction knowing that she was avenging her father's death. Alesav's focus would soon be broken as she heard one of her squamates over the comms.

"This is Alpha 4! I got two X-Wings on me! I can't shake them off!" Alpha 4 shouted as he tried to dodge the laser blast from the two X-Wings.

"Alpha 2 follow my lead! We need to save Alpha 4!" Alesav ordered as she started to fly towards Alpha 4's location with Alpha 2 following close behind her.

Once Alesav and Alpha 2 found Alpha 4, it wasn't long before the both of them took out the two X-Wings chasing him down.

"Thank you for the assistance, Commander... I owe you one." Alpha 4 said before flying away to engage other rebel starfighters.

With Alpha 4 safe, Alesav soon started to focus on the rebel starfighters and protecting the fleet until the orbital shipyard was destroyed.

[Ormata]

We are not blessed to rot under gravestones –
To lie all stretched, – having half-opened graves,
We hear guns’ roar from the battle’s place
The regimental trumpet’s coarse wails
From the highroads that were our own.
We know all field manuals by heart.
What’s death to us? We’re higher than death here.
In our graves we’re in arrays, advanced,
Wait for a sign to go in a fight
And let all know that the dead do hear
The offspring’s talk of them and their past.

CAPT. DORSSINY, TREROS
STAR DESTROYER ABERRANT, WASP SQUADRON
EN-ROUTE SYSTEM DESIGNATION 090-235-J

A low drone of talk filled the wardroom. It was not an especially full room nor an especially large one for the role it filled. The ceiling was low, a ladderwell down to the next level situated in the corner, and here and there were empty tables situated between the officers. They sat in the alcoves of booths and along the long tables, wafts of steam amongst them, and a small line had formed for the caf machine. As Dorssiny entered, the door sliding shut behind him, he noted with some small sense of satisfaction that no-one was especially stupid today. Cadets had it beaten into their skulls that one should always yell out “Attention on Deck” for the Commanding Officer and, while he’d heard of some Core ships still keeping that practice to the point of their COs rarely leaving their cabins, he preferred a standing order that one should not yell out such nonsense on the messdecks. If he was there, he wasn’t there to interrupt or have some sense of resentment build-up due to his presence. Dorssiny still recalled those days before he gained command, knew what damage little issues might cause.

He made his way across the edge of the wardroom, skirting tables with a long little gait. Nods here and there was the acknowledgement for the man by officers seated as he strode past, coming finally to a smaller little alcove. Enlisted had their mess decks, the NCOs the Chief’s mess, officers the wardroom, but department heads were reserved a little slice of their own heaven. The Captain could already hear hints of talk behind the door as his hand wrapped about the handle. Opening and closing the door, Dorssiny made a quick survey of the room. Everyone but...well, everyone but ChEng. Well, that was acceptable. His talk could come later if what Rollwhe had messaged him was the big thing he thought it was.

“Dorssiny,” Rollwhe swallowed as the man closed the door, “I don’t really like these odds. Been reading over the intel report I caught and...I don’t like the odds here.”

Nodding, Dorssiny replied as he made his way over to the small caf station. “You caught it? Before me?” He started pouring his caf before sighing. His XO had some few contacts he enjoyed maintaining, something of a hobby that made the man more like the ISB than anything else. Honestly the fact that the man hadn’t yet been caught by ISB had made Dorssiny brew suspicions on more than one occasion, though that was neither here nor there. “Alright, then. Which part?”

“All of it,” shot back the XO, ”Several MC80-types are what I don’t like. The frigate screen looks...pathetic at just a few frigates and the corvettes are nothing. We could blow through that on our own. The problem is these Mon Cals.”

“We don’t need to beat them to a pulp on our own. Custodian will be right alongside us.”

“Those are still close odds, even if you discount Mon Cal tricks. Three MC80s versus two Deuces? Not good odds. Sure, we have the fighter superiority but...I just don’t like it. Imperial fighters haven’t saved us from concentrated Rebel strikes before and if they concentrate on us they will break through.”

“You think Granger won’t utilize them well, Rollwhe?”

The XO shook his head, pausing as he took another sip of the caf. “He’s not the issue. Starfighter training is the issue. We’ve had to beat mission goals into these lads since day one, beat it into them to not run-off whenever some glory seems to be had. I don’t think Granger’s fighter pilots have had the same beating. We know the bombers will do their job but for those bombers to get there they need to move through the Rebel corvette and fighter screens. We can kill the corvettes, sure. We can’t kill all their fighters and at that point, Granger’s fighters will be the deciding factor. They might be the issue here. They’re the linchpin to the whole kriffing operation.”

“Who’s his coordinator again?”

“Lamat,” replied Paulee, “He’s a fairly conventional guy, as far as Flight Officers go. Went to school together with him. He’ll do his job I think.”

Dorssiny nodded as he thought it over. Paulee was pretty reliable as far as knowing how to judge a person, especially when it was someone he’d gone to school with. Sure people changed a good deal after schooling but they rarely changed to become incompetents. Well, at least the coordinator was good enough...he’d likely keep the Venator Flight Officers in check who, in turn, would keep their fighters in check. Likely the fact had been stressed to Lamat beforehand. It did little good for a fleet carrier heavy squadron to have impotent fighters unable to accomplish their tasks and enough resources had been spent to reactivate the vessels that Dorssiny doubted the whole act was one of political scheming. No, it seemed like the real thing to shut Granger up about his theories.

“Alright then. That’s...good. What else did the report say, Rollwhe?”

“Primary target is an orbital shipyard. A big one, hence why the MC80s are present.”

Paulee whistled. Orbital shipyards were good targets when your next alternative was probably a full-on planetary assault against half the Rebel navy. Dorssiny, though, he was silent for a good few seconds.

“Good. Forward me the report, Rollwhe. I feel like I’ll have some studying to do.”

[United Islands of Polis]

Rear Admiral Joshua Granger
Wasp Squadron
Outer Rim, Mid Hyperspace Transit

Joshua Granger stared into the blue hue of hyperspace from the bridge of the Indomitable. Until now, it perplexed the aging Rear Admiral how black and white became blue when propelled to ridiculous speeds. He only did this however when he was waiting, he already gave the notice about a briefing for all important officers of Wasp Squadron. He pulled out his pocket watch, pressing the button to release the cover, he saw that they had about five more hours before arriving, and ten more minutes before the briefing would start. Life as a man in command of a carrier class of vessel, despite what the official classifications are, had always been important, especially now where starfighters were becoming a bigger emphasis on the Rebellion's arsenal.

Rear Admiral Granger moved to the inner parts of the bridge, the holotable of the Venator was an incredibly familiar sight, it brought him back to the past more or less. Before he had conducted his thesis on rebel starfighter emphasis, he had served time aboard an Imperial -II Star Destroyer, the Archimedes, however no matter the amount of firepower he had, he always did miss the aging Venators, familiarity he believed.

The other bridge officers on the holotable quickly wrapped up their work, they knew why the Rear Admiral was there, the briefing was about to start. When his subordinates had left, he pressed the first sequence of buttons. An alert to the other officers of concern to tell them they only had two minutes left before the meeting started. The pocket watch ticked down the remaining time left. 10, 9, 8, 7...
Fixing himself and standing upright, he pressed another sequence of buttons, a holographic display of the space station showed up and other fleet elements that would be there, Imperial and Rebel. 3, 2, 1. Closing the pocket watch, he stuffed it back into a pocket, simultaneously hitting the button going live. In an instant, the forms of many officers appeared before him, all at attention and eagerly waiting.

"At ease." Rear Admiral Granger spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are approximately four hours, and 50 minutes away from our target. This will be perhaps the first ever official piece of action Wasp Squadron will face. Upon entering the system, we will be here, on the edge of the system, alongside other fleet elements. This is a whole space station we're attacking, capable of catering capital ships, three reactors most likely, to give you an idea of how large this target is."

Rear Admiral Granger paused for a moment, letting it sink in to the others again. "What we are looking at are a handful of frigates and corvettes, but the main problem here is guessing how many of those MC80s will be present. Current estimates are looking at one to three of those big bastards. Don't you ever underestimate their firepower, they will tear you apart with one wrong move, play it out carefully."
"Now we ae a carrier group, we have been training for the better part of a year for this, now, let's go over this again. TIE/LN fighters make the main bulk of our force. While our enemy contemporaries posses better starfighters, as much as I hate to admit it, you will have to depend on firepower superiority. For our dear TIE/INs, you will be always operating in tandem. A-Wings are too fast for you to ever catch unless you get them into an energy trap, but this is space, so I doubt that could ever happen."

Dry laughs rang about.

"Remember, one will chase, the other will cut them off while they're busy shaking the other off. TIE/sa bombers will only be deployed after a substantial hole is punched through the rebel fighter screens, however, if the need for you to operate much earlier is needed, you will be escorted. It is also fortunate that we have the presence of some of the famed TIE Defenders, they will be operate as a priority target acquisition and destruction, or if need be, help in the fay."

"As for our ships, Venators will stay in formation, Lancers will spread out to cover the Venators, and the Star Destroyers will be upfront to stop any enemy capital ships from getting close to the carriers. Captain Harven, Captain Dorssiny, your fighter compliments are yours to command. As soon as the bombers can operate within acceptable parameters, we have some loaded with ion torpedoes, those dastardly munitions are yours to direct, just patch it through to the proper coordinators. I want to minimize losses as much as possible, ladies and gentlemen. Are there any questions or improvements on the floor?"

Dorssiny stayed quiet through the briefing. It was clear to him, by all accounts, that the briefing was not exactly for him to begin with; the main bulk of it had been directed towards fighters and how they would be operated. As he listened, though, gradually the favors began to turn. TIE/LNs would be operating in dependence of “firepower superiority”. The simple gist of such a thing would be several LNs tackling a singular X-Wing, though that brought them vulnerable to cluster munitions which were ever deadly to the unshielded TIE. TIE/INs would be operating in pairs, and though Dorssiny was near-sure that there were contingencies for when one pilot was shot down or disabled and one was left, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that it would complicate things. The benefit was, though, that Granger had simply avoided the worry prior. TIE/sa bombers would only be launched when a “substantial hole is punched” or presumably whenever things went completely wrong. This saved them from fighter incompetence, true, but it would leave Dorssiny without bomber cover for the initial strike and the period it would take to disable enough fighters to warrant their launch. That...he did not look forward to. The TIE/D multi-roles were a known quantity to him, though their mention was welcome nevertheless. Hopefully their pilots would utilize them well and not be completely destroyed.

It did surprise the Captain when, after the TIE/sa bombers were launched some would be on-loan to the Star Destroyer Captains. Ion torpedoes, those would be useful to Dorssiny though he couldn’t precisely gauge how useful when no squadron numbers were named. It could be enough to push an MC80 into not having shields, that little push which can mean life or death, or it could be enough to bring their shields down by perhaps 50%. The fact that the loans were split in two did not make such a question sny better.

Then, as to be expected, the Rear Admiral asked for questions. Dorssiny spoke up first.

“Sir, is there any intelligence on enemy commanders or the current status of their fleet in terms of combat ineffectives? It’s an orbital shipyard. I would expect a portion of those vessels to be in drydock.”

Rear Admiral Granger looked at the man. It was Captain Dorssiny who asked the question. The newest member to Wasp Squadron by technicality. He did make a good point, unfortunately that was the one black hole the report had.

"I'm afraid not, Captain Dorssiny. ISB and Imperial Intelligence only recently discovered this one, so its a variable that is independent, and can change. The entire fleet could be drydocked, or none of them are. We simply need to be on our toes." Rear Admiral Granger said.

“‘Course, sir,” replied Dorssiny, slightly dismayed. He tried to not let the fact show on his face, though, considering precisely how childish such dismay was and would be seen as, though some little part of him felt that he didn’t stop all of it. The lack of intelligence on enemy commanders, now that was something to be sad for. It’d have been a hint at their methods, tactics, precisely how aggressive they were, how flexible they were, and precisely how creative they’d be with their resources. Some Rebel commanders tried to emulate Ackbar with his famed slash and some of those succeeded. Some others were Ackbar. A select few would lean on their starfighters, trusting in that supremacy. No, that knowledge would be learned on the fly he supposed. Likewise, the lack of information on the status of the shipyard-docked fleet was worrisome. It would have determined how aggressive Dorssiny would have to be against that dockyard, striking there before the ships could recrew, power up, undock, and make it out to hyperspace if able, fight if not. If half a dozen MC80s were docked, it’d prove more than a hassle to the squadron. Of course...he somehow doubted so many ships would be docked. They hadn’t inflicted all that much damage against the main capitals of the Rebel fleet.

Dorssiny waited a moment, noting that the rest of the captains weren’t asking the actually important questions. Well, sithspit, he thought, before speaking up again. “What fleet elements are alongside us, sir? Are they syncing their arrival times to ours?”

Several more officers asked questions, pertaining to theoretical situations, mostly what-ifs. Sometimes it felt like they were not listening, however they were right as well, so he couldn't be mad. What did surprise Rear Admiral Granger was when someone asked a question again, it was a legitimate question and not a repeating one, so that was a plus at least.

Rear Admiral Granger zoomed into the fleet composition by manipulating a few buttons on the console. "We have no other information asides from a fleet accompanying the Judgement, which has been shuffling in numbers recently, so I'm not sure, but it is a substantial fleet, don't you worry, son."

There were still more questions, however most were minor. It was at this point that the briefing had reached its conclusion more or less. Adjourning the meeting, he gave a simple end to it, and proceeded to his quarters. He had set an alarm to wake up an hour before arriving. And just like that, the alarm rang. A quick wash of the face, and he walked out of his quarters and back into the bridge. He walked in with determination, there was only a few more seconds according to the pocket watch, as the seconds arm ticked right onto 12, he put the watch back in a pocket.

"Sound General Quarters to all ships of the squadron!" Rear Admiral Granger ordered.

A few ensigns were scrambling at their terminals, sending the orders via encrypted messages. Another flipped a switch, the alarm rang out and spoke into a microphone. "General quarters! General Quarters! All hands man your stations! This is not a drill!"

Normally to prepare this early was odd, or down right taboo. However this was primarily for the fighter pilots, hence the sequence of klaxons ringing in an interval of two, to be already posted near their ships. By the time the interval reached three rings, ship crews had to get into combat stances and stations, four blasts meant they were only 15 minutes away, and they had to get into their crafts, and start pre-flight checks. Soon enough all the sequences were heard, and they were about to exit hyperspace.

Clad in an Imperial Army chestpiece and helmet, all ship crew, including the admiral were brandishing these equipment pieces. It was a tradition on his ship in the Clone Wars after the Battle of Geonosis, after the bridge of an Acclimator, simply named Cruiser 13 suffered a blow to the bridge, sending shrapnel flying everywhere and killing half the bridge crew. It was a lesson he took seriously, and something he recommended to all ships in Wasp Squadron. It helped especially in counter-boarding action, but whether or not it was implemented across all ships he didn't know, it was implemented on all Venators for sure, however. The blue hue of hyperspace eventually turned to the black and white of the void. The action had already started.

"Open ventral, starboard, and port side hangars, launch the first wave." Rear Admiral Granger ordered.

As the hangar doors opened, TIE/LN fighters roared out as soon as the doors fully opened. He was surprised they got out that fast in all honesty. He expected them to be a bit slower, but it was good to know that they were eager. Squadrons flew out of the five fleet carriers, their contents racing towards the fray, whether or not they caught the rebel starfighters off guard was a different question however. Some seemed to notice, some did not.

Rear Admiral Granger walked back to the holographic displays and boards in the rear reaches of the bridge. "Tell the flight officers to stream share data to us, I want to know the priority targets we have to send our interceptors on, and bomber targets. And tell the Custodian and Aberrant to begin their creep to the front, emphasize on them not leaving the carriers too open."

[Ormata]

We are not blessed to rot under gravestones –
To lie all stretched, – having half-opened graves,
We hear guns’ roar from the battle’s place
The regimental trumpet’s coarse wails
From the highroads that were our own.
We know all field manuals by heart.
What’s death to us? We’re higher than death here.
In our graves we’re in arrays, advanced,
Wait for a sign to go in a fight
And let all know that the dead do hear
The offspring’s talk of them and their past.

CAPT. DORSSINY, TREROS
STAR DESTROYER ABERRANT, WASP SQUADRON
SYSTEM DESIGNATION 090-235-J

An alarm rang-out throughout the ship near twenty minutes before the exit to hyperspace and Captain Dorssiny was already on his bridge. It rang out in a harsh, sing-song tone, loud as could be save for the muffled noise about the bridge. He could still hear it down the hall and, with it, the clatter of boots on deck plate, of men running to their stations. The man wasn’t donned in the gear Granger recommended, though, by every means he wasn’t. No, instead he wore the usual flash gear which accompanied any of his own major fleet experiences. Gloves and a gray hood, that was his gear, the sort of thing one would wear before having to fight a fire, combat flooding, that sort of thing. In his own experience, Dorssiny found them to be far better than the Imperial Army breastplates and helmets Granger liked. After all, whoever boarded a Star Destroyer? For that matter, whoever had shrapnel ping about the bridge? He personally considered the Cruiser 13 incident, which he had read-into after being struck by curiosity, to be a fluke at best, bad luck at worst. Shrapnel through a bridge, but no hull puncture? That wasn’t the sort of thing proton torpedoes did, nor laser cannons. In some ways, Dorssiny felt it was a design flaw in the Acclamator design, that something had gone wrong in the internals upon the bridge which had led to a detonation, to shrapnel. It was a wartime situation, though, and no actual report on how the event occurred was present. If that were true, Granger based his choice on a singular event from a now isolated and defunct class.

Besides, there was something in the man which didn’t quite like the idea of an Imperial Navy officer wearing Imperial Army gear. Something which said that the idea was degrading as a whole. Pride, Dorssiny supposed, that’s what it was. Nothing wrong with that.

“General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands to battle stations!” repeated an Ensign over the 1MC, “Set Material Condition Aurek throughout the ship, make all Aurek reports to Damage Control Central.” The alarm kept going.

The vast expanses of hyperspace stretched out before Dorssiny, swirling blues and whites. It didn’t look like the ship was going into battle. It didn’t look like there were rebels on the horizon, that they were right there in front of him just moments away from a major battle. No, it didn’t look like that at all. In some ways, it was good. It was a mark of the times that hyperspace should separate the emotions like a curtain before everything came clashing down. It was tradition, seeing how old hyperspace travel was and how far along they had come since ancestors charted the first lanes. In some ways, though, he just didn’t like it. It had an odd feel about it, a strangeness that the fleet was so close to combat and still they were merely powering through hyperspace like it was a pleasure cruise out of Coruscant. The man shook the feeling. It did little good now to reminisce about things never experienced and never to be experienced, not before a major battle, not at all.

A few moments passed as stations sent in their reports, as the ship prepared for combat. Bulkheads slid shut, separating sections on the ship from one-another, and down below Dorssiny knew that his crews were geared up and ready. Damage control parties were standing by, the guns manned, and the bridge was altogether as quiet and professional as could be. The last fleet operation they had involved a chunk of station breaking into them and over a million men and women dying. Some people turned into bloodhounds, Akk dogs, when the moment of retribution came about. Some people turned into machines, cold-blooded as can be. He’d been sure he had as few bloodhounds as possible. They made mistakes that cold anger wouldn’t dare to make. Hate turned into concentration, the tension in the air a spider’s web, and Dorssiny stood by, listened to the reports. They came in fast and thick, clear voices muddied by the circuits, hiccups in communication swiftly dealt with by Central’s controllers.

“Condition Aurek set throughout the ship, time five,” came the call over the 1MC. It was good. It was very good. They’d had practice in setting that sort of thing though, and the Captain found anything less than very good to be not.

“Flight line cleared, craft ready to launch.”

“Very good, Mr. Paulee.”

Minutes turned into hours, the last few seconds like days passing by. Judgement was present at the scene already, to Dorssiny’s knowledge, and though he didn’t know the Captain for the vessel he did know that even a poorly-captained Star Destroyer would swing odds more in their favor. The rest of the enemy fleet was negligible in strength and could be destroyed at relative leisure, especially considering the corvette screen. They were good odds, despite what Rollwhe might’ve thought. Granted, he did not relish the idea of standing by and acting as a shield for the carriers, but orders were orders. It would take skill to maintain the cordon against the enemy MC80s, especially considering their ease in repositioning compared to his. True, he had less distance to go but to maintain good fire he would need to keep the bow pointed at the enemy...and had to start and stop the engines. They merely had to blast at full speed. No, they were good odds Dorssiny told himself, good odds so long as they took advantage of them.

“Thirty seconds until hyperspace exit.”

“Thirty seconds until hyperspace exit, aye. Stand by to open hangar bay doors. Stand by for one half aft burn.”

“Aye, sir standing by to open hangar bay doors.”

“One half aft burn, aye, standing by.”

A countdown from the Conn. Zero. The blackness of space swung into view as streaks of blue and white turned into stars, as a blue-red sphere dominated the bridge crew’s sight, and before them lay a battle. Dorssiny didn’t hesitate for a moment to consider the layout of the battle, the disposition of the enemy, nor the disposition of friendly forces, shooting out his orders quickly to the bridge in a staccato rhythm.

“Open hangar bays doors! Launch fighters! Helm, one half aft burn, slow to point five!”

“Aye, sir launching fighters.”

“One half aft burn, aye! Conn, my helm is one half aft burn.”

“One half aft burn, aye.”

Dorssiny could feel the Star Destroyer pull back from her initial burst of speed, pull back as his heart felt like it was surging forward, and the sensor screens showed his fighters jetting out at speed from the hangar bays. It was a ballsy move, what they were doing; most pilots preferred to move out more cautiously from the hangar, seeing as how it was facing another hangar directly opposite from it and the exit was downwards, but his pilots were just a tad different. Of course, such a maneuver was made possible by the slow, yet still. He waited for the next report, the expected one, as his eyes darted back and forth on the long range. The Judgement and her escort were already engaged with the enemy fleet, closer than Wasp Squadron. Her fighters and bombers were also launched and had engaged the enemy, though by his count were either evenly matched or slowly losing. Granted, Dorssiny had never been a pilot, but one was taught how to gauge things like that.

“Sir, fighters out and in holding formation.”

“Comms, send a message to Indomitable. Message reads: Moving to intercept Rebel fleet to draw fire. Out.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Helm, come about course 352 mark 5. Increase speed to full forward burn for fifteen. Weps, weapons free! Concentrate fire on the nearest MC with the heavies.”

“Come about course 352 mark 5, full forward burn for fifteen, aye. Conn, my course is 352 mark 5, full forward burn for fifteen.”

“Weapons free, aye!”

“Conn aye!”

[Flarbinia]

Phillipi System
An ARC-170 exited the hangar of a base hidden inside an asteroid field with several Z-95 Headhunters in tow and opened fire on a squadron of TIE Fighters, missiles streaking towards their targets as their pilots began taking evasive maneuvers. After a brief chase, the missiles hit their mark, their warheads detonating on impact as the ARC-170's pilot and the rest of his squadron headed toward some TIE Fighters that were attacking a GR-75 that was limping away from the battlefield. "It appears that my little brother has played his hand. Inform every TIE pilot under my command that their priority targets are the Nebulon-B Frigate and the modified ARC-170. We cannot let either of them escape. Depriving this Rebel cell of its leadership will ensure that it will never rise again, regardless of whether Decius and Galilee end up as vapor or leaving this system in chains. They were lucky to last this long, considering that they were caught off guard." Captain Decimus said to the communications officer as two Y-Wings broke off from combat and headed towards the docking bay of the Nebulon-B as the outnumbered Rebels began to retreat, the Rebel flagship desperately firing back at the pursuing Imperial ships as the Mutinia opened fire on a CR-90, the volley hitting its mark, destroying it.

[Just-An-Illusion]

ISD Judgement's Bridge

A lone woman stands at attention on the bridge as she watched her fleet engaged with the rebel fleet that was protecting the orbital shipyard. The woman knew that taking out the station wasn't going to be easy, but these MC80s have been challenging due to the fact that her fleet couldn't get too close to destroy the shipyard. The woman who was overseeing the battle was Admiral Aliella Harmenix, one of many admirals who was a veteran during the Clone Wars. The Admiral had dark red hair with streaks of white running through while her face had some wrinkles. It was Aliella's experience during the Clone Wars and the guidance of the late Admiral Karnu, that she was able to rise through the ranks of the Imperial Navy. After the destruction of the first Death Star, Aliella was quickly appointed as Admiral for Judgement's fleet to snuff out any resistance in the Outer Rim. Over the year Aliella had wiped out rebel fleets in each encounter, but this fleet that was protecting the shipyard has proven to be a challenge.

While Aliella disliked calling for help this battle left her with no choice, but to call assistance from Rear Admiral Granger and his fleet to help deal with the rebels in this system. The aging Admiral had hoped that Granger would arrive soon, since she didn't know how long her fleet could last against three MC80s and the large amount of rebel starfighters. But she was pleasantly surprised that her starfighters are able to hold off rebel starfighters this was mostly because of Alesav Karnu, the commander of Alpha Squadron and the daughter of the late Admiral Jeamarl Karnu. Aliella had recently transferred Alpha Squadron to her fleet just to see Alesav in action and so far, the Admiral was impressed with Alesav and saw potential in the young pilot. Aliella had hope that she could guide Alesav just like how her father guided her when she was just a simple Captain in the Imperial Navy. Aliella's thoughts were soon interrupted as a deck officer called out to her.

"Admiral, Wasp Squadron has arrived in the system!" One of the Deck Officers said.

Aliella soon looked to her right and sure enough, Granger and his fleet had finally arrived and have started engaging rebel forces.

"Have the entire fleet fire focus fire on those MC80s, we need to soften them up if we're going to destroy this shipyard." Aliella ordered as she continued to watch the battle.

[Flarbinia]

The TIE Fighters engaged Decius's Squadron, three of the Z-95 Headhunters being destroyed in the first volley. The modified ARC-170's tail gunner opened fire, taking out three TIE Fighters that managed to flank Decius. His squadron makes quick work of the remaining TIE Fighters before heading away from the battle, the Phillipi Cell having gone into full retreat as the Empire pressed their attack. The Mutina opened fire on the Nebulon-B, hitting the engines of the battle damaged frigate, the vessel reduced to limping away from the pursuing Imperials. "Inform the Stormtroopers to prepare to board and that all Rebel Leaders are to be brought to me in chains or as a corpse! We can't let the enemy escape when we are so close to having them in our clutches!" Captain Decimus said to the communications officers before being interrupted by a sudden transmission from the Nebulon-B Frigate, an old man wearing the uniform of a Republic naval officer. "Decimus, my old friend. Why are you still fighting for the Empire? They destroyed Alderaan, you fool. You and your crew should be jumping ship to the Rebellion, not hounding us like we're Bantha Rustlers who shot a few Imperials." Cryus Galilee said to Captain Decimus as the officer stared back at him. "Alderaan's destruction was tragic, but those lives wouldn't have been lost if it wasn't the scheming of its nobles, you rebel scum. The Organas may have traded their crowns and scepters for the privilege of representing their Alderaan in the senate, but don't be fooled by their facade of benevolence or their empty claims of righteousness. They support the Rebellion not out of some misguided sense of morality or misbegotten loyalty to a Republic that chose to accept Palpatine as Emperor, but because the Empire was a threat to their power. In the end, Their ill fated quest to preserve their power doomed Alderaan and its population, the last of their line reduced to a mere fugitive. Unlike her, you can't escape your death, traitor. Prepare to be boarded." Captain Decimus responded, Cyrus simply ending the transmission then and there without a word. "Why are you just standing there? Relay the order! The more time we waste, the more time the Rebel leaders have to evacuate from their ship!" Decimus said to the communications officers in anger as the Mutina continued firing on the Nebulon-B.

Within a minute of receiving the order, the Stormtroopers headed straight to their ships, the pilots activating the engines and powering up the shields and weapons in preparation for the assault.