Dark, glazed eyes watched the amber-black brandy slosh in the crystalline snifter. Without ceremony or pomp, the solitary figure in the wardroom drank another long pull from the glass, face contorting in the slightest wince as the acrid, astringent liquor sizzled down his throat.

A datapad sat askew on the mirror-polished obsidian table. The man glanced at the glowing text again, and refilled his snifter from the dregs of the now-empty decanter. He raised the glass again, in mocking salute. “Long… live… the Emperor,” he slurred slowly, then uttered a rueful bark of laughter and swilled down the last of his beverage. “’An Empire that will last ten thousand years.’ Well, almost.”

Vice Admiral Pridyat Shest set the snifter down and fixed his bloodshot dark brown eyes on the bulkhead of his flagship’s wardroom. His fist slowly clenched, and his expression tightened as his thoughts wandered. For all twenty-four years of the Empire’s existence, he’d been loyal. He’d been dutiful. He’d been a true believer. He recalled, vividly, Chancellor Palpatine’s mutilated features and the horrific audio recording of the Jedi assassination attempt that played day and night on the Holonet. He recalled how close he had been to being in striking distance of the one of the mad traitors and their savage weapons. And he recalled his slow, torturous ascent while inept, bumbling imbeciles from Rim backwaters—which, by the way, could hardly be bloody called civilized!—shot up to high positions. Because they had old PSF connections, and he… he was a former Judicial. Coruscant, crown jewel of the Galaxy, the very birthplace of humanity and the seat of civilization itself… but not good enough for the talking heads in naval theory. No, mere colonies and colonies of colonies were apparently more visionary in coming up with ideas for a karking galactic fleet!

Without thinking it, without particularly wishing it, the clenched fist swept outward. The snifter launched off the table and shattered into innumerable, glittering fragments against the bulkhead lighting panel.

“Kark,” Shest cursed venomously. “Kark it all.” He rubbed at his blurry eyes. When his brain insisted on floating a meter and a half above his skull, he reached into his trouser pocket and extracted a small metallic dispenser. A poke at the activation button, and a single, small green pill landed in his palm. He flicked the tablet into his mouth, wrestled it under his tongue, and counted to ten. The room began to resolve correctly and his senses began to realign to something resembling reality.

His clearing eyes fell on the crystalline decanter for a moment, then back to the pad. He hefted the decanter, pondering it. A small part of him considered the empty vessel an apt metaphor, perhaps for himself, and most certainly for his future. A moment later, it sailed through the recycled atmosphere and burst into a stunning display of refracted light against the bulkhead opposite where the snifter met its end. That too, he supposed, was fitting. It could easily work for the Empire’s plan to finally put down the Rebellion; or perhaps the very lynchpin in that plan, that is to say, the utterly deranged waste of resources that was the second Death Star; or indeed, for what was likely left of His Imperial Karking Majesty himself after the Rebels, once again, brought starfighters to a planet-killer fight and karking won again!
The datapad went flying next, clattering off the bulkhead. Shest, to his dismay, was now out of easily-to-propel items. Glumly, he gathered himself, resealed his tunic at the shoulder, and marched out of the conference room. A comm panel sat just beyond the hatch in the corridor; he keyed in his aide’s comlink code.

“Yes, Admiral?” Cornaf Afelius’ chipper—nauseatingly chipper, in Shest’s opinion— voice crackled in reply. “How may I serve you?”

“You can serve me by sending a cleaning droid to the flag wardroom.”

“By your w—.” Shest released the stud and stormed away before his eager toady could finish his bootlicking.

To his knowledge, only he knew of the dire state of affairs so far. His communications officer had simply downloaded the encrypted message. His thumbprint and voice sample were needed to unscramble the dire news from remote Endor. Of course, rumors and gossip rippled through a starship at hyperspace velocities. He would have to tell them.

Just as soon as he accepted the insanity himself. Fighters. Mere fighters had once again undone the Empire. The first catastrophe, four years before, could easily be blamed on the arrogance of that jumped-up Outer Rim governor. Oh, Tarkin had his positive points, for a Rimmer. But he was another who came up through a parochial defense force and thus saw fit to dictate policy for a pangalactic fleet. But he couldn’t be arsed to scramble his fighters to protect his precious project and swat a mere handful of Rebel ships from the stars. It might have implied something was wrong with that moon-sized waste of durasteel… far karking better to have it blown to atoms and remove all doubt!
At least with Tarkin out of the way, the Navy finally had its chance to shine against the Rebellion. No longer stuck defending supply lines and research facilities for the superweapon, they had been let off the leash for the first time since the Pacification of the Rim and the final downfall of the Seppie holdouts. It had been a happy hunting time, snuffing out Rebel cells and bringing the neo-Separatists to heel. For a brief time, in the panic and scramble, the Empire was revitalized. It was back to what had enkindling a burning loyalty in a young naval officer two decades before. The glorious victory on Hoth echoed from Belkadan to Zonju, and it was truly believed that the end of the disorder and chaos was at hand.

But now… after the precautions were supposedly taken against a freak shot from a snubfighter? Defenses tightened, an impenetrable deflector shield? Where was that?

Shest broke his reverie to enter a lift. A few officers passed by, but on seeing their commander in the car, they quickly broke away as though they’d simply wandered close. That was fine by him. The door slid shut, and the car accelerated toward the bridge.

With another moment of solitude, he barked out another curse and slumped against the bulkhead. What would this mean for him? His wife, Anit, on Orya below? Could the Rebels regroup in time to strike here? Would they even bother?
If the terrorists were to attempt to something broad-scale, there would be no better time. Outlying commands would be desperately comming sector group for orders, and sector up to oversector, and to High Command on Coruscant. Protocol demanded it. They’ll go for communications first, then.

The door slid open, and Vice Admiral Shest stepped onto his bridge. Far from the drunk, ranting depressive he’d been minutes before, he composed himself into the sober, commanding presence he’d fashioned to keep his crews in line. “Communications section, report on all transmissions and prepare a message for Sector Command. And alert all commands; standing Yellow Alert. Fighter Control… launch combat space patrol.”

Clear, dark eyes narrowed and bored into the dark void beyond.

[This message has been edited by Moff von Degurechaff (edited 11-18-2017 @ 04:00 PM).]

Briefing Room, Bulk Cruiser Vanguard

Jas Dellalt entered the briefing room almost last, his dour gaze taking in the various captains, department heads, and squadron leaders of his flotilla.

They were arrayed around the semi-circular amphitheatre, seating or standing according their preference or biology, but grouped by their roles.

To the left stood his Corvette captains, the Wookie Badabacca standing over the slate-gray Mugaarian Icanistur the Younger and dwarfing the petite, red haired Hargeevan Ketrian Altronel. All three were already deeply looking into the symbols arranged in the holotank, absorbing the latest tactical data on the system display.

In the centre of the semi-circular seating, the trooper commanders, the Devaronian Reet Tanson and the hairless Fondarian Maldis, sat behind and above his Mon Calamari executive officer, Arboga.

As usual, standing slightly apart from everyone as though he did not quite fit in, was the Verpine exile Ryli Ned'ix. He loyally joined by his modified C-3PO droid, who generally acted as the group interpreter.

Dellalt moved toward the podium for a quiet word with his intelligence officer before the presentation, the Bothan Erisi Plmary, and sat down beside Arboga. Finally, the Twi'lek Hekken Brol'trop, considered as beautiful as she was deadly, and habitually late except when it came to operations, arrived last.

Dellalt noticed the eyes of Corellian Tan Gregorius following her as Hekken swaggered over and gracefully took her seat next to Aborga. The Corellian and his Sullustan counter-part, the sober and idealistic Dero Jin, were the respective heads of Gold and Green Squadrons, while Hekken led Blue Group, the varuois shuttles, transports and light freighters of the flottila.

Overall a mixed bag, he reflected, united by their grim experiences into highly-motivated opposition to the Empire.

He nodded to Erisi, who lowered the lights while activating the holotank presentation.

Up Next: System & Planetary Intelligence Briefing posted here, followed by Ops plan submitted to Xaph over Discord.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 11-18-2017 @ 06:37 PM).]

Okay, as a space privateer I REEALLY need to lay out the game board. Otherwise the Imperials could just stack a blockade on each planet, and my Bulk Cruiser, 3 Corvettes and 2+ squadrons would have zero chance against 8 Star Destroyers, 10 mid-sized cruisers and 14 frigates and corvettes, and something like 30 squadrons of TIEs.

But feedback is certainly appreciated as these are just my thoughts, and if anything is out of line Xaph can pull delete or modified I have written below, or let me know so I can make changes.

Briefing Room, Modified Battle-Horn Bulk Cruiser Vanguard

"A quick word before we begin." Dellalt nodded his approval for the officious Bothan to continue. "The Commander has directed me to release as of right now, news a large part of the Rebel Alliance has combined into a large fleet and launched an attack on a large construction project, believed to be the Empire's second attempt at a Death Star battlestation. In addition, our Bothan Spy Network believes the Emperor himself is onsite, so a strike could capture him as well!"

Audible gasps and other sounds of surprise were heard from the small group. Quickly they recovered and several, and led by the Corellian Tan Gregorian, began to question why they were not also summoned to the Fleet. The Zabrak quickly stood and whirled to face the audience.

"We're not going there because we're needed here!" He growled, his own private frustrations bleeding into his voice. "We're part of the greater plan to do as much damage on our own as possible.

Arboga's gravelly Mon Calamari voice cut in above the rising voices. "Strategically, we are positioned to take advantage of the best outcome, the destruction of the Emperor and the second Death star. Alternatively, if the worst was to happen, we and the other groups set aside would be the Rebel Alliance, forces that survivors and others could rally around to continue the struggle."

"And in the meantime," Arboga added, "until we hear from the main effort, we have our own operations to conduct."

Reason struggled for dominance with their rebelliousness, but finally the meeting got underway.

The Bothan, nonplussed as the delay, continued. He tapped his console and more symbols appeared on the system map. A picture of a grey planet, marred only by the black of oceans and major waterways.

"The first of our target is the Oryan System. The main planet is classed as an urban planet, like Coruscant, although there are few buildings over 100 stories here. The most populous and industrialized of the three target systems, it used to have a liberal ideology until the Empire clamped down during a general strike by the shipyard unions. That action resulted in the shipyards being nationalized and the unions themselves dissolved."

"With a population this size and history with the Empire, the Alliance already has a decent but scattered network on the planet.

The Imperials have a few local garrison and support bases on planet; but everything is controlled by the Imperial Enclave set up in the capital of Landing." A green triangle and several green squares appeared on the map in response to his remarks."

The shipyards are located mainly on the surface but the planet does have a few of orbital platforms for final fittings and repairs, cargo storage facilities, and so on. The shipyards produce mid-sized starships, but can repair a Star Destroyer at the orbital platforms. The starship traffic is what you expect from a high population planet with a large industrial capacity. Hundreds of individual civilian ships a day, sometimes peaking near two thousand on some days."

The rest of the system is much of what you could expect; a rocky planet near Oryan Prime, a few gas giants with moons farther out, and a large ring of asteroids called Oryan's Belt which seperates the system between the rocky planets and the gas giants. The asteroid field and the other planets have been mostly mined out to support Oryan's development and the shipyards, and as you can imagine there are a number of abandoned mining facilities and infrastructure.

As you can expect, there are heavy Imperial defences surrounding the planet, the orbital platforms, and the traffic lanes to and from the planet and shipyards. Our Network has identified the signatures of at least two Star Destroyers in this system, with support and escort vessels, with heavy star fighter support.

"In this system we will have tightly planned operations, and focusing on covert operations, testing their defences and asymmetrical warfare. The Commander will get into those later."

The Bothan looked up from his notes, and tapped the console again. The images of Oryan and it's system were replaced by a radically different planet and system layout. The audience slightly shifted, asborbing the new information.

"This is the Rikka system. The main planet is classed as a desert planet. It has a medium-sized population living in all the climate zones, from mining the polar ice caps to the boiling equatorial wastes. Rikka and it's system have been the main supplier of resources to nearby Oryan for hundreds of years, and as such it has a heavy mining presence. There are also towns and cities which have developed around the various spaceports used for shipping the resources to Oryan." Red, yellow and blue dots appeared on the map to show the mining operations, the spaceports and population centres.

"This planet has the most effective Alliance operation of the three systems. The cell has a natural support from the miners who have been facing increased quota demands by the Empire for year, and suffering the consequences of not meeting those quotas."

"As the primary supplier of Oryan's needs, the Empire also places a priority on defending this planet as well. There is an Imperial Enclave located here on the planet," a green triangle on the planetary map, "and a few garrison and support facilities here, here, here, and here." A single triangle and several squares appeared across the planet's surface to mark their positions. After a moment, the view of the planet pulled back and the wider system appeared in top-down relief.

"In Rikka's orbit are a number of refineries to process the raw ore, cargo transshipment facilities as well as a few container yards - again mostly equipment and food for the mining operations, as well as for the outbound ores and minerals.

"There is heavy traffic to and from the planet - mostly the same traffic you see arriving and departing Oryan. The Imperials know that the key to Oryan's production is Rikka, and so there is at least two Star Destroyers in this system as well, attended to by a number of small and mid-sized capital ships." The Bothan paused, "and the usual number of TIE squadrons."

"The wider system has two rocky planets closer to Rikka Prime, while a single gas giant lies out-system. A scattered asteroid ring occupies the mid-system. There is a substantial gas mining operation on the gas giant."

Again, the Bothan let the audience look deeply at the system map and the planet, before moving on.

Another planet, almost completely blue-white, appeared in the day. There were only a few dark streaks on the planet's surface.

"Finally we have the ice planet Swuui. The planet would be unremarkable except for two things. Despite the planet going through a glacial phase, the planet is still volcanically active, and a small population of the planet's original inhabitants, the Swuuians, use the geothermal energy of the volcanic ranges to survive in vast underground cities of ice and crystal."

"Well, not exactly underground," the Bothan corrected himself, "more like sub glacial cities. They don't actually live below the actual ground level of the planet itself, but rathe-"

"We get it, hairy long-nosed one," the Devaronian Reet Tasoon's harsh voice boomed, "move along."

"Fine, fine," the Bothan huffed, his fur swirling to match his feelings, "There is a single mid-sized trading enclave and spaceport located in this volcanic range." A blue and yellow dot appeared side by side on the map."

"As for an Imperial presence, that is the other major feature of this planet. The Empire has a large snowtrooper training facility and various testing ranges located across the northern hemisphere of the planet." A series of green dots appeared across the northern face of the planet, and a single triangle denoting the main training base.

"Orbitally, there are only a few comm relay stations and weather keeping satellites, and in the wider system, there are three rocky planets, a large and vast asteroid field mid-system, and three gas giants outsystem. The rest of the system is relatively undeveloped with no notable stations.

Icanistur the Younger piped in with a slow, heavy voice, "so lots of places to hide, yes?"

The Bothan's fur swirled to reveal his agreement. "Indeed there are, and this concludes our overview. The Commander will now lay out our first phase of operations."

Dellalt stood and took Plmary's place at the podium.

"Alright, our objective here is to hurt the Imperials and create a resistance level on each planet to overthrow the local garrisons. Right now, each planet has discontented populations with the capability to do so, but most are either downtrodden or apathetic, seeing no way to successful resist without being slaughtered."

"All three system have Alliance operatives on planet, although Rikka's cell is clearly the best. Our job is to inspire these population to make that effort, and to make their jobs easier when the time comes but cutting down a few Imperials of our own."

A whole new series of projections appeared in the holotank. The audience took on a new tension, a new eagerness as the actual plan began to be laid out.

"This is how we're going to do it. Listen closely."

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 11-19-2017 @ 03:06 PM).]

Admiral Safed Lassat stepped onto the bridge of the Simurgh, tugging at his cuffs as a dour expression settled on his face.

"Are the miners protesting again, sir?" Captain Svarjöllr asked.

Agnet Svarjöllr had been the captain of the Simurgh for two years now. Lassat had initially thought her too young to be the captain of a corvette, never mind an admiral's flagship, but she had since demonstrated why she had earned such a position. She was not from an aristocratic or even Core World background--merely the daughter of an artist from Naboo--but she knew how to command a ship.

"It's worse than that," Lassat said, taking up a position between the two crew pits. "I want the entire fleet to maintain yellow alert until further notice. Increase patrols. Monitor all com chatter for signs of Rebel activity. And send a secure communiqué to Admiral Shest: advise him that, until we hear from Imperial Command, we should coördinate our efforts vigilantly lest the Rebel terrorists perceive a moment of weakness."

"I'll see to it, sir," Svarjöllr said. "May I inquire--"

"Certainly not," Lassat said.

"Yes, sir," Svarjöllr said, moving away to carry out the admiral's orders.

So, Lassat thought ruefully, the Emperor is dead. This might not be an entirely bad thing: His Majesty had been growing increasingly obsessed with superweapons and mass destruction in recent years. Perhaps his successor would be someone of a more even temperament, more capable of using precision strikes and balanced responses to quell the Rebels' threat to order, stability, and rule of law. On the other hand, it was also an uncertain moment--a moment that the Rebels could use to spread yet more pandemonium. It would be up to officers like himself to maintain order in the Emperor's absence.

Leaving the bridge for his ready room, Lassat poured himself a cup of mud caf. These Rebel terrorists...If they saw injustice in the Empire, why did they not simply report it to the legal system? To take up arms against the rule of law itself was a greater injustice than any perceived grievance they might have against the Empire. And now they had dared go so far as regicide. These homicidal maniacs had to be stopped and had to be stopped now, before their anarchic tendencies and murderous intentions corrupted even the heart of the galaxy.

And with the Emperor gone, it was up to loyal officers like Lassat to ensure that the violence and chaos did not destroy the law and order he had fought for his entire life.

[This message has been edited by Emissary of the Prophets (edited 11-20-2017 @ 08:08 PM).]

There were about two dozen of them in the room, several in chairs, but many on boxes and cases that lined the edges of the room. While they hardly looked formal, all of them looking like an odd mixture of different occupations. With the exception of Mira, Veeral’s second, who somehow managed to her old management suit clean for these days. The Zabrak woman was probably putting too much time and effort into it, but that obsessiveness made her excellent for this kind of planning.

Mira rose stiffly as Veeral entered the room, not as well dressed as her second (her attire being a rust dyed and altered imperial army uniform), and moved to the center of the wall opposite the group of people. On the wall was a screen, hastily fastened there, with cables and wiring leading out to a computer underneath. Veeral turned the screen on, quieting the last murmurs in the room as all eyes turned to her.

Veeral: “As you should all know, the past couple of weeks, we’ve been looking for a way to hit the new outpost south of here. They have at least two scout walkers there, and the longer they’re active to keep looking for us, the harder our hits are to plan and carry out. Fortunately, Redmond has got us a way in.”

She, and most everyone in the room looked to perhaps the worst dressed person in the room. The human had old, worn clothes and a scarf hanging loosely off of his shoulders, all a dusty brown. His face was likewise worn, the kind of face one got from a rough life. In contrast to this, his voice was clear and smooth.

Redmond: “Yeah, one my drinking buddies, Charl, got some of his superiors to come out with him while they were on leave for a couple days, and well . . . “

He takes a card out of his pocket and holds it up with a smirk.

Red: “One of them’s missing his passcard now.”

After some murmurs of approval and a scowl from Mira, Veeral continues.

Veeral: “This will get someone in, but we only have a day at best before they realize it’s missing and lock it out. So by tomorrow I want two of our landspeeders, and 8 of our bikes running at their best for this. Bowack?”


The words were met with a series of growls from a wookie toward the other end of the room. She was short for her species, which was the only reason she could fit into the mechanic’s overall she was wearing. At her speaking though, the group turned to the woman beside her, Sonia, the only one there who could understand the wookie language.

Sonia: “Bowack says she’s been reconfiguring one of the gun attachments, but if we need it, I’m pretty sure we can put it back together by tonight.”

Veeral: “Well will. The plan is to hit the outpost from the outside after our inside man is in position. When the garage doors are opened for the walkers, our man takes one and hits the others from behind. After that, it’s our usual game plan. Cause as much structural damage as possible, sabotage the vehicles, then get out of there. Since the AT-ST is usually a two-person affair and we only have one man, we can’t rely on it to win for us, and we’ll need our best pilot inside to use one. That’ll be Arken.”

The man in question, a human in a simple orange shirt, shrugged with a smirk.

Arken: “Well, moving one on my own would be hard. Are we bringing it back with us this time?”

Mira: “No. Weather reports a sandstorm in a window tomorrow that we can use, but if it’s early or late, we’ll be relying on the Hostik tunnels to evade pursuit. There are only a few entrances that would accommodate an AT-ST, and most of those few are near other Imperial outposts.”

Arken grimaces and Veeral nods.

Veeral: “Once the sabotage is complete, you’ll join one of the landspeeders, then we all escape. We’ll go over individual assignments and what needs prepared after meeting adjourned. Any questions?”

This followed by Arken muttering about having to shave, but no actual questions. Veeral nods.

Veeral: “Then meeting adjourned.”

Briefing Room, Modified Battle-Horn Bulk Cruiser Vanguard

The audience seemed to lean in as Jas Dellalt, Zabrak Commander of the cell, outlined his operations.

"As befitting our resources and Imperial strength in this sector, we will start off on standard hit and fade attacks. We will plan three operations simultaneous in all three systems.

"The Vanguard and it's escorts will be here, Point Aleph, to launch and recover all ships."

A point equidistant between all three systems appeared on the system overview. Two more points followed.

"Points Besh and Cresh and will be our backup meeting points if the first recovery windows are missed. So if you are trying to evade pursuit, follow standard practice of a few short hyper jumps away from the pursuers, then meet up later at Besh or Cresh."

He nodded at the Sullustan Dero Jin.

"Jin, Green Squadron will test the defences and reaction times of the Oryan's system defences. Five X-wings will assume a standard reconnaissance posture here. This is the endpoint of one of the outbound traffic lanes leading from Oryan. There should be something worth hitting there. Hit the nearest Imperial patrol you or Imperial shipping can find. Attack anything the equivalent of a squadron TIE Fighters or less. They should be spread out as they'll be in patrol format, not a combined attack formation. If there is any Imperial - IMPERIAL - shipping in the area, that is a secondary target, but avoid the civilian ships. Avoid anything that will bog you down, like taking on a capital ship or engaging multiple waves of starfighters. The Imperial response should be fast at Oryan, so the mission limit is 7 to 10 minutes. Any longer you'll undoubtedly face overwhelming forces. So go in, destroy what you can, get out when you face even odds or larger, and don't get bogged down!"

"With that said, Green's two A-wings will act as your backstop to help you extricate yourselves if you run into Interceptors, Bombers or Gunboats. They will arrive 2 minutes later and stay behind you out of action as a rally point or a rearguard. Their speed and missiles will put down any pursuers, and can outrun an Interceptor if need be for a safe hyper run out."

Jin nodded. He knew his people and conducted this type of patrol over a hundred times that Dellalt knew of. It should be smooth.

The Zabrak looked to the heads of Gold Squadron and Blue Groups.

"The next op is for you two."

"Always a pleasure to be working with such a pretty lady," Tan Gregorian said with a smile while looking over at Blue Group Twi'leki Hekken Brol'trop. She rolled her eyes in response. But when he looked back at Dellat, the Corellian's eyes were serious and focused.

"Tan, Hekken, you'll be using the 3 Z-95s of Gold, and all of Green's Y-wings and B-wings. Blue Group's U-wing, Muurian Transport and YT-2400 will provide some extra muscle.

"Your target is a convoy of shuttles and transports leaving Swuui's surface. They are carrying the latest graduating class of snowtroopers from the facility below to their first assignments. With the help of the Force and your strike force, most of them won't make it. Hyper in, and ambush as much of the convoy as you can at their most exposed point, between the planet's outer atmosphere and the edge of gravity well. The system hasn't ever been hit before, so the Bothan's Spynet is showing only a minimal TIE escort that is spread out among waypoints in the target zone. The Z-95s are the escort, but both the B-wings and Y-wings are instructed to help clear out the escort if they cause too much trouble. Blue Group concentrates on destroying the transports by torpedo runs, missile runs and then following up with strafing runs their turret cannons.

As far as we know, the Imperials don't have a lot of units in the system to respond quickly with, so you have about 15-20 minutes to operate in the target zone. By then any surviving transports will have escaped into hyperspace or retreated back to the air cover provided by the turbolasers of the ground bases. Under no conditions follow the transports too down into the atmosphere.

"If there is something too big to handle that is blocking your escape," he turned his attention from the squadron leaders and to his corvette captains," feed the proper coordinates to the Furious, Glorious and Courageous, and they will drop into the system and make ONE firing pass at the blocking Imperial unit before exiting the system."

A fourth point popped up on system map of Swuui, just outside the orbit of Swuui's gas giant. "This is point Dorn, the Corvettes will stage here at maximum readiness, and if needed, they're only two minutes hyper time between the gas giant and the target zone."

"Between the coordinated effort of the torpedoes of the Green and Blue Groups, and the firepower of the corvette group, you should be able to rough up, and ideally completely destroy, any response the Imperials should be able to muster in 20 minutes."

"But worst case scenario, if forced down or can't escape, your fighters are directed to go to ground and make their way to the mercantile enclave, direct or via contact with the Swuuians."

Focusing again to Hekken, "while these two combat operations are going on, I'll need you to secure legitimate shipping contracts. Use our clean transponders for these freighters. Don't even use the smuggling compartments for this operation. I want one of our freighters in each system when we attack Oryan and Swuui, and another to head to Rikka to get another sense of the place. "Ned'Ix and Plmary, I want you to be on the freighters to Rikka and Oryan, respectively. Maldis, you're the less conspicuous of our trooper commanders, you'll head to Swuui."

"Under no circumstances do will our freighters fire on any ship for any reason. Obey all commands from System Traffic Control and Customs. Your people are just the crew of another tramp freighter so act like it. Once on the ground, keep your eyes and ears open and see what you can find out from the local populations. If you can somehow make contact with the Rebel operatives on each planet, then do it, but don't blow anyone's cover either."

"Go in with only the civilian sensors active. But turn on your passive sensors to the maximum, let's scoop up as much up-to-date information on the three systems as we can. And let's see how they respond to our attacks as well. Let's see what capital ships leave Oryan and Rikka to assist Swuui's emergency calls. Maldis, if any of our people are forced down at Swuui, you're there to get them out."

"Tasoon, you'll be with myself and Aborga on the Vanguard monitoring the operation. Once we receive the results of the first wave of operations, we'll be planning something involving your command."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: The response and travel times for an Imperial response and reinforcement are based on my experience of the X-wing computer game missions (yes I'm that old), so ideally they are acceptable. If the reaction times are sooner or longer, please let me know and I'll adjust accordingly.

My plan is based on the fact that the Alliance doesn't know the results of Endor or the Emperor, so it's business as usual for these folks (although I see your point, Moff, about communications once it's widely known.)

The Oryan attack is kind of a handshake\test, not expecting much from it other than to announce our presence to the system. Ideally I bag a bunch of TIE fighters or a freighter full of AT-ATs or something.

The Swuui attack is much, much more. Eliminating thousands of freshly minted snowtroopers is an opportunity too good to pass up, and with neither Imperial task group in system, I'm going to commit a bigger punch.

Of course Xaph, if this wasn't how you were planning your RPG to go, let me know and I'll reorganize.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 11-23-2017 @ 09:20 AM).]

Great posts guys, prompts for next round are up in the Discord.

"No, no, no. There's nothing to worry about, darling," Vice Admiral Pridyat Shest lied through a warm smile.

The face peering out of the vidscreen frowned, exacerbating a few lines worn into the otherwise strikingly handsome female features. Sapphire-hued eyes narrowed, and a hand flashed into frame to comb through silvered hair with frustration. "Don't you lie to me, Pridyat. Everyone's wound up so tight down here and everything's on alert."

Shest shook his head. "The Rebels have... caused an incident. It's not around here, but Sector is raising alarms. I'm sure it's nothing." He forced another wan smile. "Let the Moff get his nervous energy out running us around, and then things will settle down."

"What if I were to catch an orbital shuttle--"

"Absolutely not," Shest bit off more sharply than he intended. "Anit, dear, just... sit tight, okay? Things will settle down in a couple of days."

Anit Shest eyed her husband over the video feed, and then leaned into the pickup conspiratorially. "Pridyat," she whispered scoldingly. "Have you been drinking again?"

"Wha--no! Of course not! Don't be ridiculous, darling." He cleared his throat and fingered the small dispenser in his trouser pocket. The empty cup was far outside the range of the camera; there was no way for her to see! And even then... one drink. He knew his limits.

Before she could argue, he resumed. "It's just that security is tight right now. But once this blows over, I can come planetside. The ship's due for some refitting and maintenance, so that'll be a good few weeks just ourselves."

The blue eyes stayed narrowed, unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

"Trust me, darling. I would love nothing more than be planetside with you." In that, at least, there was unvarnished truth. Without an Emperor, there was no Empire. Why continue the strain on his marriage in service of something in its death throes? Maybe even go back to the Deep Core, to Teta. Live out their golden years on the family estate, safely insulated by wealth and astrography from the spasms of revolution and terror... "Once these exercises blow over, I promise, dear..."

"Would like to know what your tell is, Pridyat? You really start to pile on the 'dears' and 'darlings.'" Shest flushed crimson. "Can you really keep that promise?"

He looked her squarely in the eye. "Yes. Even if it means hanging up the uniform, I can at least promise you that once things settle..."

"Oh, don't do anything rash," she shook her head. "All right. But I'm holding you to that promise. Signing off."

"I'll comm you when I can," Shest nodded, and then killed the link. Once the screen went dark, he leaned back in his chair and blew out an exasperated breath. "Karrrrk."

I THINK this is what is expected of me, any feedback about how far I should take this point (further or back) is appreciated.

Command Deck, Bulk Cruiser Vanguard, Point Aleph

Jas Dellalt entered the command deck almost last, his dour gaze sweeping across the crowded space. Technicians and controllers were hunched over their consoles, the light from their flatscreen displays illuminating the faces of a dozen or more worlds. Supervisors walking behind them in narrow aisles, keeping a close eye on all the reports and communiques. One supervisor looked up at his entrance, and called out:

"Sir, the bridge is reporting the Vanguard is at action stations."

Dellalt's gaze acknowledged him but swept on, finally taking in the two figures awaiting him at the holotank. He strode over to them; the Mon Calamari Arboga, and the Devaronion Reet Tasoon.

On the display was the local sensor data from around the Vanguard. The dots that representing Green Squadron was drifting towards it's hyperspace vectors, while the much larger combined elements of Green, Gold and Blue Groups moved steadily toward their own departure points. The Corvettes, the first to go, flickered slightly and disappeared from the screen.

Tasoon looked up from his scrutiny of the battle planes and said: "We are getting good data from our tramp freighters. Each arrived in the target zones as standard tramp freighters approximately fifteen minutes ago. We just received data bursts that accompanied their transmissions to their "clients" which included local tactical data. It looks good. It has already been forwards to Green, Gold and Blue Groups."

Arborga added before Dellalt could speak "The countdown is on. The Courageous group has just departed for Point Dorn. All three groups will depart at different times but will arrive at their assigned attack zones in the Oryan and Swuui systems simultaneously."

Dellalt nodded his appreciation to both.

"Well then, May the Force be with us." At that the Swuui attack group began to move at impossibly fast speeds, and was gone. Green Squadron soon followed, and on the command deck of the Vanguard the waiting was on.


Outbound Lane Terminus, Oryan

With barely a flicker of movement, five X-wings dropped out of hyperspace. Captain Jero Din, Bromewright of Sullust, led his five X-wings into unerring accuracy almost on top of their unsuspecting targets. Din's liquid tones, delivered in rapid chatter, flowed into his comm mike.

<Lock S-Foils into attack position! vector to three zero zero dash zero five dash one zero my mark, MARK! >

The X-wings turned into unison towards their nearest foes, three of the squadron of TIEs on their orbital patrol of the nav buoy. Green Leader's chatter did not cease as the squadron made it's turn. The TIEs were caught out isolated. They originally had gotten closer to examine the new arrivals, but were now exposed against the might of five X-wings. Too far from their comrades, and too close to the enemy to evade, they made a brave stand.

<Accelerate to attack speed! Deflectors double forward until the TIEs gets behind us, let's mow them down! For the Alliance!>

The three TIEs disappeared under the withering fire of the twenty X-wing cannons, but there were at least nine more TIEs nearby hungry for revenage. Below and to the right, the various civilian and Imperial shipping, whom only moments ago expected a smooth transition to hyperspace, now ran madly in all directions from the firefight.

Inside his cockpit, behind his crash helmet, the Sullustan gave the facial expression of pleasure.

Although few in number, we are strong in our tenacity.

Imperial Command Centre, Oryan System

When the five new blips appeared on the technician's screens, he merely raised an eyebrow. What kind of stupid merchant expects to inbound his convoy down the outbound lane? But as the computers scanned the profile of the arrivals, and presented their conclusion that these were no freighters but X-wings, his eyes widened in alarm and whirled to the duty officer. "MA'AM! Enemy contacts!!"

Swiftly the duty officer moved behind the seated technician and stared over his shoulder. Taking only a moment to process the information, she made her decisions.

"Sound the system alert! Action stations all ships! All alert fighters stand by to launch!" The duty officer screamed, partially out of her own disbelief, and partly to startle those around him into action. She pointed at the comm officer. "Summon the Admiral!"

Overhead, the speakers blared even louder than the wailing alarms.

"Admiral to the command deck, Admiral to the command deck!"


Outbound Lane Terminus, Swuui

On board the Long Gone, Blue Leader Hekken Brol'trop sat in the co-pilot's seat and watched the numbers count down.

"Ready?" She asked softly to her stout Sviverni pilot. He only twitched his ears in reply, his eyes locked into the forward viewport and his body tense in the pilot's chair. Behind her at the weapons board, Chandrilan Asan Indira nodded his assent as well. Further back in the main hold, Chas Jotarra of Commenor kept his eyes glued to the screen, awaiting for the first scrap of information.

"Upstairs" and "downstairs", Jin-Don of Ghorman and her fellow Twi'lek Narn Bril, manned the turrets.

Satisfied, she called out the count and moved the silver lever down.

"Three..two..one..exiting hyperspace."

The nearly blinding blue-white lines of light shortened into mere dots, and to the right, the blue-white of hyperspace was replaced by the blue-white of the ice planet Swuui. Around her swarmed the nubfighters and freighters of the Alliance.

Jotarra sang out from his sensor board, "They they are, right below us! Five kilometres and closing!"

Brol'trop took a quick glance at her repeater. Jotarra has already labelled the various TIEs and transports hauling the snowtroopers. There were a screen of six TIEs circling the hyperspace departure point for the transports, and "below" them but rising from the planet, four groups of six transports heading out from the planet. Each group was escorted by three TIEs. In all, so a total of eighteen TIES and twenty four transports.

Keying her mike, she rang out her orders.

"All ships, you know the plan. On my mark, dive! Three, two, one, MARK!"

Immediately, the Alliance force turned towards the planet, each already following the ops plan.

Gold Leader Tan Gregorian's voice barked out his orders. The deliberate distortion of Alliance comms could not hide his Corellian passion.

"Gold Squadron, Green Squadron, bandits, bandits, bandits! Vector two zero, minus one two zero. All weapons Forn One, Forn One! Pick your targets and open fire! For the Alliance!"

The Alliance ships dove on the planet, the beeping tone of missile systems acquiring locks already ringing in the pilots ears as they tensed their fingers on their weapons triggers, and watched the TIES rapidly close in.

Slightly behind them, the groups made their decisions to run for hyperspace or turn back to the safety of the planet.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 11-23-2017 @ 04:13 PM).]

Admiral Lassat looked up from his datawork as Captain Svarjöllr entered.

"You asked to see me, sir?" she said.

"Yes," Lassat said, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk. "I've been looking over our patrol routes and I fear that they're stretched too thin."

"Sir, we're barely covering the entire region as it is," Svarjöllr said.

"That's true, but with our forces so spread out we've left key areas vulnerable," Lassat said. "I've requested reinforcements but received no reply. In the meantime, we have to shore up priority locations ourselves. It's a sacrifice, but a calculated one. Tightening patrols may cost us a few peripheral trade routes and facilities, but it will save us key installations in the long run."

"Understood, sir," Svarjöllr said.

"We must count on my colleague Vice Admiral Shest to defend Orya," Lassat continued. "I recommend we send a small patrol to Swuui--quietly, so as not to alert the Rebel terrorists' of its significance--and more visibly show the flag along the Rikka supply routes. Those must be our priorities."

"I'll make it so, sir," Svarjöllr said.

Lassat rose and looked pensively out the window.

"Is that all, sir?" Svarjöllr asked.

Lassat sighed. "There was a time when the terrorists were not so brazen," he said. "I even respected them in some small way when they seemed to hold some concept of honor and restraint. Now they murder civilians, disrupt lives, kill wantonly." He gave a derisive snort. "If only they knew how their reckless hate has turned them into the very villains they claim to fight against. There's a lesson in this."

"What is that, sir?" Svarjöllr asked.

"One must keep a rational mind rather than allow ideology to dictate one's actions," Lassat said. "Ideology is too easily twisted into a weapon for fools and miscreants."

"Indeed, sir," Svarjöllr said. "Shall I order the tightened patrols?"

"Yes, at once," Lassat said. "And keep the Simurgh on standby. I have little doubt we'll be hearing from our terrorist friends soon enough."

[ Still a little hesitant about how this work out, but here's what I've got. ]

Veeral sat in the pilot seat of the landspeeder, waiting for the signal.

The landspeeder was once a civilian model, with an open cockpit and backseat. The mechanics, however, had added large sheets of metal around the side to give the occupants cover, especially to whomever was seated which the repeater gun that was mounted to the back seat.

In her case, said gunner was Bowack, meaning Sonia was also with her. The last seat was empty, the place for Arken when he was finished with the AT-ST.

Mira, likewise, had a speeder that was set the same way, about ten yards from her. Arranged around them was eight others on swoop bikes, all ready to go. All waiting for the last signal to start moving out.

After some time waiting, Veeral heard her comlink come on.

Red: "Just dropped off our officer."

Veeral put her hand straight in the air. Nothing more was needed, four of the bikes roared off into the distance, toward their target. Veeral counted down and started the landspeeder moving, Mira moving impeccably to match her, and the other four swoops moving to escort them . . .

It only took around ten minutes for the first four swoops to come into sight of the outpost, the sentries outside spotting them and only barely raising the alarm before they were already near the base. As they swept around the building, one of them took out a grenade and tossed it at one of the entrances of the building, the resulting explosion damaging, but not breaking the wall. The group swept back around, the riders taking out pistols and taking random shots, the sentries going for cover.

By this point, the second group had now arrived, the landspeeders moving to the different entrances, while the second group performed the same attack at the opposite entrances. While the guards had been taking shots at the swoops before, once the landspeeder's mounted guns started firing, they remained in hiding behind whatever they could find, calling for help. With all eight bikes now flying around the building, Veeral and Mira covered both the doors to the building with laser fire, whether with the mounted guns or passengers, effectively denying any of the men inside an opportunity to get out and fight.

It was, essentially, a few long minutes of chaos and panic. After which the commander inside would realize that those mounted guns were the biggest things they brought, and send out the walkers. It wasn't long before Veeral's com carried a voice back to her.

Arken: "I'm in place, boss. Real pilots can't be far behind."

Veeral: "Acknowledged. Plan is still green."

Arken: "Last chance if you want to keep this. Controls aren't that complicated."

Veeral's face just slightly creases in annoyance, her tone becoming sharper.

Veeral: "The plan remains the same, hijacker. Do not deviate."

There's a pause, where Veeral can imagine there was a sigh that she would hear if not for the guns behind her. The change in tone made it clear enough that Arken still didn't agree.

Arken: "Acknowledged, boss."

Another minute passed, the troops inside starting to throw grenades out of door, both to force the landspeeders to move further away, and perhaps catch one of the swoops by luck. These were not particularly successful, and as predicted, before another minute had passed, the garage opened, an AT-ST already moving.

It made it only a few 'steps' out of the garage, taking a few haphazard shots at the swoops that passed it, before turning toward Mira's landspeeder. It never made another shot, however, as the second AT-ST suddenly opened fire on it from behind. It took only a couple of shots before the first collapsed, pulses of smoke emiting from its main joint. The troops in the garage, previously prepared to support the walkers, now scattered as the walker inside started firing at the more of the equipment inside.

Upon seeing the first walker shot down, Veeral and Mira repositioned their landspeeders, allowing their gunners to fire into the garage. Thirty seconds later:

Mira: "Mark. Start moving, hijacker."

Arken: "Yeah, I hear ya."

The second began ponderously moving out of the garage. With the cover fire from the gunners, none of the troops inside were able to do anything to bother it. Once it had cleared the building, it stopped and Veeral pulled her landspeeder in close to it.

Arken: "Last chance, boss."

Veeral: "Hijacker, stick to the plan."

There was no response, but a few seconds later, the hatch opened, with a faint trail of smoke coming out of it. Arken emerged, still in the stolen imperial uniform, quickly attaching a cord to the lip of the hatch. Veeral and Sonia tensely eyed the garage while Arken descended off the walker and then ran to the landspeeder. As soon as he was in . . .

Arken: "I could have done it."

Veeral shook her head turning back to the controls and the com.

Veeral: "Hijacker caught, time to exit."

She set her landspeeder in motion, Mira's soon following, then the swoops after their last pass around the building. In the landspeeder, Sonia handed Arken a towel and pair of goggles as Bowack kept the gun firing back toward the building.

Sonia: "You're going to hear it from Mira after this. She'll probably even tell you how many seconds you wasted, asking the same question twice."

Arken: "Yeah well, I still think we need something bigger than this thing."

He scowls, but put on the goggles and wraps the towel around his face. Soon after, the firing stops and the others do so as well, the sound of howling wind, and the rolling cloud of sand in the distance giving them all cause. Soon, the whole group dissapeared into the sandstorm.

Swuui System


The voices may be delibrately distored by their comms, but the flattened tones cannot conceal the cries of joy and victory,

nor the tones of grim concentration and snapped commands, nor could it conceal the fear of the desperate nor pains the

screams of injury and death.

"Accelerate to attack speed."

"Gold Leader to Blue Leader, you are clear to engage Tango Group One."

"Copy Gold Leader, good hunting."

"Locking S-foils into attack position."

"Angle the deflectors double forward for the first exchange, double forward. As soon as any pass behind us, even the

deflectors."

"Pull in tighter, Gold 2, tighter!"

"Blue 3, roll minus three zero degrees, line up your ventral turret on target."

"Osk Two, Osk Two, Osk Two, missiles away!"

"That shook them up, Gold Group assume formation Delta and move in!"

"I'm taking the leader, Forn One, Forn One!"

"Woohoo! The formation is breaking up! Gold 2 and 3, take the one of the left, Green 5 and 6, take the one on the right. I've got the leader."

"Copy Gold Leader"

<Several moments of silence, or indecipherable mutterings>

"Green Five, bandit's trying for the scissors, move wide, move wide. Let's set up the cross fire."

"Copy Green Four."

"Blue Leader to Blue Group, Osk One all ships, Osk One all ships!"

"Copy Osk One, firing!"

"Three more bandits coming in hard, vector 47-12"

"Greens Three and Four, move to holding sector Two. Let the TIEs come in a little closer."

"Got Tango Four, got him, she's lit up!"

"Let him go, Blue Three, that one's engines are gone! Let them all burn up in the atmosphere. Tighten formation and line up

on Tango Group Besh."

"This is Gold Three, I can't shake him, I can't shake him!"

"Gold Three, this Green Four, turn to vector 130-45 now!"

"Blue Group, roll to six zero and line up dorsal turrets on Tangos 2 and 4. Assume formation Trill and assume Osk positions

on Tango Group Besh."

"Thanks Green Four! I think I've still got control of it!"

"Gold Leader to Gold units, move to intercept third TIE formation

And so it continues. The Alliance ships moved "down" to the planet, destroying the fleeing transports while intercepting the TIEs desperately buying time for the transports to escape.




Oryan System, Outbound Lane NV1

All around the system, the hooting of alarms sounded on all ships and stations, and over one hundred thousand beings ran to

databanks, gunnery stations, and cockpits.

The centre of this alarm, and almost entirely unaware of the system-wide chaos they caused, seven pilots took stock of their

situation and their next options. The three closest TIES were rapidly expanding dust, now well behind the formation.

What was once an orderly line of civilian and Imperial shipping departing the planet was now completely scattered, each

freighter madly attempting to vector away from the combat zone. Picking two of the Imperial ships, Dero Jin called out his

commands.

Green Two: "looks like the other two formations are retreating for now. Looks like we have two minutes before they organize

into a larger formation, then it's nine TIEs vs. the five of us."

Green Five: "Heads up, mid-range scanners are detecting other groups of TIES vectoring toward our position. The nearest is

about five minutes away from meeting up with those nine TIEs."

Green Leader: <Green Leader to Green Squadron, let's hit those two transports. Four and Five on the closest transport, Two

and Three with me on the farthest. One firing pass only before breaking toward Rally Point Aleph to meet with Six and Seven,

so make it count. Don't come around for a second pass as you'll get caught up against the TIEs.>

"Confirmed, let's go."

Several tense moments.

"This is Green Four. Forn One, Forn One. Transport's One taking hits."

"Forn One, Forn One on Transport Two! Concetrate your fire Green Team!"

"Scratch two transports! Wooooo look at them burn!"

Din felt a surge of pride and satisfaction. Any blow against the Empire, however small, would be one step closer to freedom for all.

<All Greens, come around to vector one one ten by minus three zero. Green Six and Seven, come closer to meet us. Those TIES

are rallying and starting to come back. Once we meet up assume formation Epsilon.>

"Copy that Green Leader, moving up."

Dero Jin kept a close eye on both his rear scopes, and the mission timer. He knew his Arthree would remind him, but he was in charge, and speed, strength, and knowing when to escape his responsibility. In the wider system, the ships were just finalizing their battle alert stations, and the first deflectors had spun up a field. System Command had begun to send out a stream of instructions, and several capital and subcapital ships began to change their vectors and beging making hyperspace calculations. The main hangars were chaos as pilots jostled with ground crew and mechanics to make their ships combat-ready. Meanwhile, alert fighters began to spill from the holds of the Star Destroyers and ships that were not ordered to the combat zone, ready for any surprise or attach from another quarter.

Meanwhile, Green Squadron had assumed Formation Epsilon, and the Alliance and Imperial formations raced toward each other.

<Alright Green Team, one more head to head with these TIEs and then we're out of here!>

Green Three: "We'll be in firing range in one minute."

Green Leader: <Go for missile locks, switch to cannon once we're in range.>"

Green Four: "They're juking heavily, trying to break the locks!"

A chorus of "Osk-Ones", however, meant at least most of Green Squadron had launched.

Streams of red and green cannon fire began to spit out from both formations, and a series of pinpricks of light began to mark hits, the explosion of missiles, and the death of pilots.

With most of their formation gone, the remaining TIEs had no choice but to face the brunt of dozens of laser cannon, and quickly disappeared. Din looked at his scopes, and while waves of TIEs were coming in, they had a few minutes to escape. However, Green Three began to speak.

"Green Four, Green Four, respond!"

A quick scan of the X-wing showed a blackened hole where the cockpit viewport once was.

The incoming TIEs began to get even closer.

Din switched to the pilot's droid. <Report>

The astromech droid turned his head and tweetled. Looking down at this display, the Sullustan read the translation. <Flight officer Durra is dead. Cockpit taken a direct hit and killed my pilot instantly. The rest of the X-wing is intact with nearly full function.>

"Take control of the X-wing, slave your hyperspace motivator to Green Three, and follow us out of here."

The victory soured, the X-wings and A-wings fled to hyperspace.

Moments behind the last departure, a Strike Cruiser, a Lancer Frigate and a Corvette dropped out of hyperspace in blocking positions. They found only the locator beacons of TIE pilots and wreckage of a dozen TIEs and a pair of freighters.

I'll review and edit it in the next couple of days, just tried to get it done and out of the way!



Swuui Upper Atmospheres

The Alliance assault was swift and relentless, but the timer on the the Twi'leks board began to ring out. Blue Leader Hekken Brol'trop paused with her stream of commands to review the sensor repeater, then gave one more command.

"Blue and Gold Groups, begin withdrawal, begin withdrawal. Formation Beta."

"Gold Leader, acknowledged." The flat modulated tone of Tan Gregorian sounded weary, but also triumphant.

She reviewed her units. The Muurian transport Last Gamble, on the Long Gone's wing, took a battering when under a crossfire between TIEs, killing both turret gunners. It was the slowest of the group, but it's forward armaments were still good, and still game for a fight. All of Blue's units showed battle damage, and the light Z-95 snubfighters of Gold looked a little worse for wear. Gold's B-wings were still bright and shiny with only wear and heat marks around their weapons ports. But overall the price paid was worth the result.

All four transport groups completely smashed, with Alliance Intelligence later estimating that three entire legions of freshly minted snowtroopers died in the fiery infernos of their jumpseats, incinerated in the atmosphere, or littered the frozen blue-white wasteland below in broken transports.

While one plucky transport actually make it through the blockade to hyperspace, the remaining TIES were herding the few surviving transports back to the surface, and the Alliance units were content with their astounding victory. Gold Squadron formed up on Blue Group as rearguard, and began to rise out of the gravity well for their hyperspace vector.

Another planet is spared the boots of the Empire. Bol'trop thought grimly.

An entire wing of TIEs streamed from from the surface, but they were too far away to affect things. They should have a relatively easy exit. Things looked good, really good.

And then in the next moment disaster loomed.

Directly over head, nearly blocking their escape vector, and Imperial Customs Guardian-class light cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, almost immediately beginning to send out columns of bright green cannon fire. The Alliance ships began to juke to dodge the cannon fire, making small quick yaw and pitch course movements to throw off the aim of the gunnners.

"Well Blue Leader," Gold Leader called out from his Z-95, "time to bring the heat?"

Brol'trop reviewed her options. Bringing the heat was the best of the available options. To pick a new escape vector was too time consuming and would allow the Customs cruiser even more time to fire on them, and possibly allow the TIEs rising from the surface to actually box them in. To stick to original escape vector would force the already battle-weary Alliance forces to run the gauntlet in the face of the Cruiser. She made her decision and sent the signal. Overhead, a small flatscreen displayed a timer. 2:00.

"All units, slow to 80% thrust. Spread out the formation and begin torpedo solutions on the target. Fire on my command."

A series of confirmations rang out. The TIEs behind them seemed to spring forward as Jotarra at the sensor board behind her sang out the decreasing ranges. Gregorian's Z-95s dropped back a little further to act as a rearguard for the Y-wings, B-wings and freighters making their torpedo runs.

A series of tense moments, as Alliance units fought to make and hold torpedo solutions on the Imperial cruiser while dodging it's counter fire. Brol'trop watched the counter reach 30 second, and barked out the order.

"All units, Osk One, Osk One!"

A cloud of fiery blue torpedoes leapt away from the Alliance ships and streamed toward the Customs cruiser. The cruiser began to pop off decoy flares, chaff clouds and direct it's secondary armament of laser cannon to point-defence.

Two moments later, a second wave of torpedoes were fired, and moments after that, a ragged third as the ships ran out of ammo. A trickle for the fourth wave, then the entire force was out of anything that could force the cruiser's shields down.

Bol'Tropp watched and hoped her timing - no her instinct - was correct. Most of the torpedos of the first wave were destroyed or decoyed away from the cruiser. A few smashed against the shields of the small but tough ship, but other than rattling those inside the ship, it had no appreciable affect. The Imperial fire had finally claimed a victim, the Muurian transport Last Gamble. A turbolaser penetrated the forward deflector and cored into the cockpit on a direct hit. The explosion snapped the transport into two along it's spine, and both wings began to tumble, drop back, and explode with no survivors. A Z-95 of Gold also took an unlucky hit and was vaporized.

But in a remarkable feat of micro-jumping, the Alliance Corvette group dropped out of hyperspace, nearly on top of the Imperial ship, and began blasting away. Caught completely by surprise, the ship began to rotate to engage the Corvettes but was then caught entirely by the second wave of torpedos. Between the barrage of the Corvettes and the weakening shields, explosions rippled over it's surface as turbolasers and torpedoes began to crawl over it's surface. The third and fourth smashed into the already weakend ship, and with a bright explosion in the rear of the ship, the cruiser lost power and went dark.

Light only by burning compartments and by secondary explosions, exuded smoke and metal debris, the ship dropped into the planetary well, a man-made comet. The flare of lifeboat and escape pod vectoring jets began popping out of the ship as it twisted and fell, their locator signatures bright and clear on Bol'trop's repeater.

Moments later, the Alliance ships slipped by the wreck and vectored into hyperspace, followed shortly by the Corvettes.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 12-06-2017 @ 07:54 PM).]

The City-Scape of Oryan

The hatch opened with the hiss of broken pressure seals and the whine of hydralics. As the boarding ramp desceneded, the Bothan Erisi Plmary took a deep breath through his sensitive nostrils. The first thing he noted about the planet -any planet- was the smell. The spaceport smells were always the same - the heavy stench of lubricants, and oils, the pinpricking smell of chemicals and fuels. The smell of scorched permacrete and ozone from arrivals and departures, and the overall sense of impermanence as thousands of beings arrived and departed the wider spaceport. Behind it, however, came a floral scent - flowers? The Bothan noted that for later.

The freighter captain, hiding the nervousness he always felt in these moments, said brusquely "let's meet Customs." Plmary nodded his assent.

At the foot of the ramp stood an Imperial Customs inspector, flanked by a few technicians and troopers. With all the hallmarks of routine, the inspector took their personal datacards and flipped them through the reader. Two of his technicians entered the freighter to compare the manifest with the cargo. As per policy, the troopers took places just inside the hatch and at the foot of the ramp.

The Bothan willed patience and forced not only his posture but his facial fur into neutral positions. An alert inspector may know the emotional "tells" of the Bothan species and could pick up on the emotional discomfort of Plmary. Everything went smoothly, and as the techicians and customs inspectors departed, the crew began to offload the cargo onto waiting repulsorlift dollies and lighters.

The captain and his "sensor" operator stood by inside the now-opened cargo hatch to observe the offloading, while the Bothan recalled the events of the recent space battle overhead.

The X-wings and A-wings swept up to meet and blast the local TIE squadron, causing chaos and panic among the civilian and merchant craft, as well as putting the entire system on alert, if not lock-down. The power emissions and transmissions of the various Imperial Naval and system defenses had painted an excellent picture of the system defenses. The recordings of the firefight and the defenses, with Plmary's own comment were sent to the Vanguard for his staff to review, and to foward to Alliance Intelligence. Green Squadron had also bagged a couple of freighters carrying replacement modules for Star Destroyer class capital ships. Some Sector Fleet would have it's maintenance and refit schedules pushed back.

And couple more attacks like that, Plmary mused, and the local Customs division will be screaming for backup from the main Fleet elements - ideally spreading out the main defenses out further.

The offloading well underway, the captain began picking out those for ground leave, and those to guard the ship. The explosive charges had been set, just in case the Imperials caught on to who the freighter really belonged to - The Alliance. Just two switches would blow the freighter, and a good portion of the landing pit, into flaming shards. Plmary of course was "picked", and turning down a couple of offers from the other crew members for libations at the local cantina, Plmary took a different route and disappeared into the passing throngs in multi-levelled city streets.

*****

The smells of the city-wide planet, of course, were far different from the spaceport. Unlike Coruscant, Oryan seemed to have a generational approach when it came to city-planning, growing organically and favoured preservation.

The majority of the buildings that formed the "terrain" of the city-planet had usually no more than ten levels. The uppermost layer were not always the preserve of the rich, as parks and green spaces were interspersed with dwellings and commercial centres. The main streets appeared to be well-to-do, shoppers strolling along the pleasant avenues. And the under-levels were neither the exclusive preserve of the poor. With many under sectors were indeed filthy and dangerous, some neighbourhoods held entire communities of troglodyte species, or those that favoured dark spaces.

Multi-level open plazas (excellent secondary landing points for an invading force, Plmary mused) held massive bazaars, amphitheatres, arenas and forums. The most famous of the forums, the Quorem, was the sight of an infamous massacre during the. In addition, the Oryans seemed to make a point of green spaces, vast bowls and squares of green, and some traces of green along a stream or river.

Massive towers of various functions and residential arcologies periodically rose among the landscape of lesser buildings, stretching 50 to 10 stories. One tower, easily 200 stories, stood as a giant among pygmies. From the shimmer of the force-sheild, decorated by various transmitting and receiving dishes, and the outline of turbolasers lining the balconies of it's upper stories, it was easily marked as the headquarters of the local Imperial Enclave.

Overall, one of the nicer ecumenopolis planet-types Plmary had been to. As Plmary moved from the spaceport sector and deeper into the ecumenopolis, taking the pedestrian-only avenues.

The floral scent grew stronger, and quickly became apparent as whole multi-level avenues were decorated with red and yellow flowers. The waste and effluents of a thousand types of beings. Bunting and posters from a recent festival sagged from trellis work. Dirt, grime vied not only visually but in his nostrils with the cleaning dissolving agents required to keep the upper levels clean and tidy.

The streets teemed with light and noise - holograms and flatscreen advertisements vied for attention. The streets also flowed; thousands and thousands of humans and near-Human from a thousands of worlds, non-humans from hundreds of worlds. Droids of all types everywhere. Spider-like droids took the time to water and tend to the flowers that appeared to be the only civic decoration. Cables and impromptu footbridges complemented the more formal walkways. Cleaning and trash droids meandered through the avenues.

On some side-streets, balconies leaned out over the intervening streets, so much so that in some cases almost touched, creating darkened canyons and darkened caverns where public lighting was on full-time. Anti- and pro- Imperial and Alliance slogans vied for attention among the various local political groups, factions of competing sports teams, and street gangs.

Here and there were signs of oppression - shops gutted with official Imperial notice tacked on their boarded windows. Squads of white-clad stormtroopers patrolled most levels, although they stuck to the main corridors. Local constabulary, backed by the grey and black of Imperial Army troopers, searching line of beings facing the wall, the detainee's hands behind their heads or in similar gestures of arrest.

Plmary shook his shaggy head in distaste at the random sweeps and continued onward to meet his contact.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 12-09-2017 @ 08:54 AM).]

In what seems to be a random space in the desert, there sits a single landspeeder with three figures clustered near it, all heavily cloaked against the desert wind making the night scene look like something out of a fearful legend at a distance. Up close though, one would find these figures were among the living. Two humans, one female, one male, and female zabrak all were waiting. . .

Waiting for the stars to fall. One in fact began to fall, a single pinprick of light dropping toward the low black silhouettes of the mountains towards the west
The light began to grow larger, and it's rapid descent flattened as it dropped under the height of the tallest mountains and canyon walls.

The cloaked figures turned to look upwards, one of holds up a device, producing a light, and for a breif second, a simple, nameless signal.

Almost immediately the light began moving directly for the trio. As it grew larger, the pinprick of light grew in size and in features. Stabilizers, the bulbous cargo compartment. The next shipment had arrived.

The ship lands, and the door opens, a few humans and other species exit, two of whom stand out, a zabrak and a twi-lek.

Once the ship has landed, the lead figure aproaches.

"Mechanic": "Dagger. I trust you still do well?"

Dellalt undid his mouth covering to speak clearly. His usually dour and grim eyes were sparkling and bright.
"I am well Mechanic, and not only have we won victories here in the tri-system area, but astounding news from High Command!" Mechanic raised an eyebrow, but Dellalt merely handed Mechanic a data pad, his eyes aglow.

She took the datapad, looking at it with some hesitance, her eyes soon growing wide, and when she spoke, her voice turned from grim to uncharacteristic excitement.

"Mechanic": "They built another one of those . . . the . . . the emperor?"

She looked up at Dagger sharply.

"Mechanic": "You're sure?"

Dellalt smiled grimly but with bright eyes: "The message is genuine - it has the proper coding from Mon Mothma herself! The Emperor is dead!"

The other two with Veeral startled slightly and stepped forward to look. The male spoke, clearly excited.

Male?: "Well, with something like that, we have to celebrate. Booze or blowing something up?"

Female?: "Obviously, this affords a great opportunity. The Empire will be in chaos trying to keep this quiet, we have to take advantage of this."

Male?: "Blowing stuff up then. Still think booze is a good idea."

Veeral puts a hand to her chin, thinking.

"Mechanic": "What do you think, Dagger? Got any plans to take advantage of this?"

Dagger: "Oh indeed. I am in contact with Alliance freighter crews posing as tramp merchants on each of the tri-planets. My first mission is to get through the Imperial propaganda to get the news to the populations. There is no way Imperials can keep this a secret as rumours will come in with very new civilian ship. Those crews will spread the message as far as we can. In space, we're going to hijack a couple of Imperial Comm facilities and send the message out until the signal is cut off. On Rikka however, we need to cut the supply lines going to the shipyards. Whether on the ground mobilizing the workers to strike, or by attacking the freighters that carry the materials, we're still working on that. Also, Alliance Intelligence is positive that once the word gets out of the establishment of the New Republic, Imperial morale will suffer - we could even see real defections from the Army and Navy. We've received some reinforcements, so we can plan bigger strikes. If you need air cover or want to plan simultaneous actions, let me know via these frequencies.
How about yourselves?"

Veeral nods along as he speaks.

"Mechanic": "Well, we just got the news, but getting it out it certainly an agenda. We could come up with a way to hijack the public broadcasting to get the news out. Though, as we don't have any large vehicles, there could be concerns about getting out of any trouble as we do so. It'll depend on how we decide to go about it. You can be sure though, we'll get the news out ."

[This message has been edited by jssf1992 (edited 12-07-2017 @ 10:13 PM).]

Dagger:
"Excellent." In the background the offloading was complete. "Here is a selection of weapons, light armor, rations and most significantly, crates of explosives. Take care in handling the largest crate however."

The male nodded dourly, going to help Dagger's men secure the crates to vehicle.

The second female stepped up and spoke.

Female?: "I think hijacking a public broadcast is doable. We will need a plan, and we will almost certainly need to go to a large city to hijack a signal that will go over the whole planet. We will get a lot of attention from the military, and our escape plan will almost certainly require us to counter airial pursuit. While we do have some rockets, and whatever Dagger's men have provided us, - "

"Mechanic": "It's no comparison to actual air cover."

Veeral nodded as she finished the Zabrack woman's sentence, then turned to Dagger.

"Mechanic": "It's only the start of a plan, but would you be willing to send a few fighters our way when we need them?"

Dagger:
"Oh indeed. We can be quite the... distraction."

Veeral frowns, looking grim in the dark night.

"Mechanic": "Don't forget this will be in the city. A stray shot or bomb could kill civilians, and then all of our credibility as better than the empire will evaporate."

Dellalt appeared thoughtful,
"Oh we'll be careful. But starfighters are a "loud" presence and will draw an appropriate response - and the Imperials won't be as careful. I suggest then that we use our Alliance fighters and stage them a few clicks away. Once you are discovered and the Imperials start their indiscriminate blasting, call us in and we'll dust the shelves with them. And using the Alliance fighters will boost our visibility - something we need for all three planets"

Veeral nods.

"Mechanic": "Alright, just remember that the less damage we do at that point, the better we look."

Dagger:
"Agreed. Let us know what you need, and want, and we'll be there. On that note, have gathered intelligence of our recent freighter sweeps. For the planet itself, it is mostly just signal intercepts, but here is what we have about the Imperial set up on the planet, augmented by what Alliance Intelligence has on local conditions."
Dellalt handed Mechanic another set of datacards of intelligence of the Imperial presence on the planet, as well as details of the next meeting point.
Finally, handing Mechanic another card "this is the contact for our own operative at one of the spaceports. The freighter will have to leave in another few days, but if you need him, just contact him and exchange the signals and code words on this datapad. It's aware that someone may contact him."

Veeral nods again, taking the data cards with care.

"Mechanic": "Alright, when we have a full plan, we'll contact your man so he can relay it to you."

With one final gesture, the two females turned away, to finish and take their leave, the others did likewise. All involved knew that exciting change, for good or ill, would soon be visited upon them.

[ Decided to split this, since we already have so many long posts. Scholomancer and I did this back and forth on Discord, and this is mostly a straight copy-paste (there's a little grammar/spelling editting and an empty space filled) ]

Vanguard, Point Auresh

The Mon Calamari Arboga said from the command deck. "Blue Group has returned."

Dellalt repressed any signs of relief. Green Group and the corvettes had already returned, and the waiting for the last strike group had kept him tense. Always strong, always be strong. Emotion breeds weakness. He moved to the sensor repeater at the flag station and quickly counted the incoming group. His body tensed and His grim face appeared even harder.

"They are missing two ships."

"Yes. Gold Two and the Last Gamble." Arboga responded.

"Their crews?" Dellalt asked tersely.

"No survivors," the Devaronian Tasson responded brusquely, then said more gently, "We can't save them all, Commander. They know the risks."

He knew. He had watched alongside Major Tasson and Green Leader Dero Jin as the technicians gently lifted the remains of Green Four from his cockpit. Flight Office Durra's astromech had early guided the X-wing in when Green Squadron returned from the Oryan system. Once the Blues and Golds had landed they would be secured and the flotilla would immediately depart to escape any pursuit. They would memorialize Gold Two and the crew of the Last Gamble, and lay Green Four to rest later this evening. He knew he could not save them all, but he still tried.

Scenes of Victory and Sadness

One casket with a draped Alliance banner, and the holographic images of six figures. The figures were at their best, smiling and straight and tall and proud in their Alliance uniforms. A small group had gathered for the ceremony, comrades, friends, lovers. Few tears were shed, even from those that knew the dead best. This was war, and on a ship under military discipline, there was no time for emotion. Those individuals took turns to talk about how they knew the dead, and how their lives were changed by them. Then the casket was put into space, and memorialized markers lined the wall of the Vanguard's airlock. The crowd dispersed, each following their own traditions to mark such an event.

The Corellian Tan Gregorian sat alone in his quarters, his brashness a cover for his fear of death, and raising a glass of Corellian brandy in shaking hands, to toast Gold Two. "Better you than me, kid." He drank the tot in one swallow, then poured another.

Green LeaderDero Jin, serious and spiritual sat under meditation, easing Green Four's path into the next world with the cathedral chants of Sullusta.

Bol'tropp and Tasson, each believing in the shortness and sweetness of life, sat with various pilots, troopers and crew, celebrating the lives of the fallen the deaths of their enemies by drinking and carousing in the wardrooms.

Captain Aborga, on watch, paced the bridge walkways, checking and rechecking the repeaters and analyzing the latest communiques from the recon teams and the wider galaxy. She read a coded message from High Command directed to the Vanguard flotilla and filed it for the morning briefing.

Dellat, his upper torso naked, the scarring from the electro-whips as visible reminders of his long-ago enslavement by the Empire, stood with hands clenched into fists. Taking his feelings of anger and helplessness out as aggression, he rained vicious blows with hands, elbows, knees, and kicks on the padded combat training droid.

**

And in the morning's briefing, the emotions and demons of the previous night having been excised, all appeared normal.


[Note: Taking a page out of jssf's book and breaking up a mega-post into separate parts.]

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 12-09-2017 @ 06:55 AM).]

Bulk Cruiser Vanguard, Point Grek-Two - Meeting with Alliance Reinforcements

The Vanguard and it's flotilla of escort and support craft stood to at a point in deep space, awaiting the arrival of an Alliance supply convoy. Various Alliance fighters were on perimeter patrols, alert for signs of an attack, or worse, a trap.

"They're late," Major Tasson fumed.

"They could be coming from the other side of the galaxy," admonished Aborga.

"And they could be wreckage, or diverted, and we're wasting our time," Tasson snapped back. "We've been out on the Mid-Rim for years now, and how many couriers have we gotten, much less promised reinforcements? We should be planning our next attack even now!"

Dellalt stood silent and motionless beside them, waiting. Knowing that his nickname among the crew was "Stoneface", and taking pride from that.

"Ships exiting from hyperspace!" A sensor technician called out, and suddenly they were here.

A large, dangerous looking Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, a Corvette, and several cargo ships arrived. All had Alliance transponders. Tasson, subsided, his doubts erased, as the three moved to the holotank. An image of a medium height Human, with the epicanthic folds, dark hair and eyes that marked him as a native of Atrisia or one of it's colonies. The man spoke excitedly.

"This is Captain Eoaq Tching of the Conqueror. We have news to impart... the Alliance Fleet has succeeded at Endor! The Emperor, Darth Vader and the Second Death Star have all perished!! Imperial forces are in retreat everywhere, and the Fleet is reorganizing to take back the galaxy!!"

The entire bridge when silent at the news, surprised and shocked beyond all words at the most amazing new. Beaming, Tching continued:

"Alliance High Command had decided to keep Imperial forces off balance. We are escorting the supply convoy to you, but once offloading is complete, most of the convoy will depart without us. You are now the proud Commander of a Frigate, a wing of X-wings and Y-wings, another GR-75 medium freighter, a pair of ancillary ships, and finally a company of troopers."


Dellat responded, finally finding his voice, "Most.. excellent. Captain Arboga, spread the news to the flotilla. Once the convoy departs, have all ship captains and squadron leaders attend a briefing." Unable to find his voice again, he stood silent as the celebrations erupted around him.

Briefing Room, Bulk Cruiser Vanguard

The briefing was much, much later than Dellalt had planned. Spontaneous celebrations erupted among the ships of the fleet, marking at last the goal for which so many had fought and died for. They had finally settled down after the convoy departed, and Dellalt and his command team had come up with the next wave of operations.

As the last to arrive, Bol'Trop took her seat. There were new faces in the briefing room, not only Tching but also the heads of three new squadrons. Red Leader was the blue and white tailed Togruta B'asia, a tall and elegant female. Grey Leader was Ilen Mas, his green skin and tattooed marking him as a Mirilian. Black Moon Leader was Sar Rayus of Bessalla, a human Core World. They and Tching mingled with the other captains and commanders, getting a sense of each other, necessary for the team-work required in combat.

"Alright, let's begin."

The faces leaned toward the holotank at the waiting images.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 12-10-2017 @ 07:22 AM).]

Note: There is another operation I am planning along with jssf, but I will leave him to organize it.

Bulk Cruiser Vanguard, Briefing Room

"We have to spread the news of Endor and the Emperor. Of course, the Imperials will do their best to deny any such occurred, but rumours will be coming in with every transmission and cargo ship. The Imperials have certainly imposed censorship on this until at least their own version of events is approved and published.

So the next phase is three-fold: Our objectives are to spread the news in Oryan, conduct an assault on local convoy escorts in Rikka's orbit, and while that is assist the local cell in a simultaneous planet-based strike.

Before that happens there are a few items we need to get out of the way.


Light Freighter Ops
Before our next round of attacks, our freighters on the planets will take legitimate outbound cargo runs and leave the system.

As they drop their garbage before lightspeed, they will also leave behind probe satellites to monitor what they can of the system. The probe droids will passively pick up data, and only transmit when our forces are in the system. In the rush of comm traffic, battle alerts and commands, sensor sweeps, our probe will dump it's data to the nearest Alliance unit. It should get lost in the crowd, and in any case, it will have served it's purpose up to that point.

In addition, Blue Leader and I will be going directly to Rikka to meet with Mechanic and the planetary Resistance cell. We will be dropping off supplies and munitions designated to them by High Command from the last convoy and exchanging intelligence. Once we return, the next round of operations will commence.

This is our new Point Aleph. You will have have the fallback meet up positions of Besh and Cresh in your systems if required.

Oryan Operation

The operation is a false flag operation to hijack one of the out-system relays. These stations are usually located clear of the usual system clutter, and redirect and amplify any signal from the planet into the wider galaxy, and vice versa.

The point of this operation is to go in as an Imperial Sector Customs Operation, seizing control of the station due to suspected collusion with a sector smuggling ring. We will be using Captain Ketrian Altronel's Assassin class Corvette Furious, the Assault Gunboats and TIES of Grey Squadron, and both of our Sentinel Class Landing Craft of Blue. As you are all aware, all of these ships have been left in their original Imperial markings specifically for these types of operations, and all of the pilots and officers are Human, to reflect the Empire's bias.

The force will drop out of hyperspace on top of the station, deploy the TIES as area escort, while the gunboats escort the Landing Craft in. Captain Altronel will play our arrogant and aggresive Imperial Captain running the operation and will demand to board the station. As we all know, comm stations are heavily shielded but they do not have any armaments. Of course, due to the very nature of the station, a giant transmitter, we do not have enough power to jam their transmissions. Any call for help will undoubtedly get through.

If any word of an alert transmission gets out, return to hyperspace immediately. In this case a secondary objective is to damage or destroy the relay station, but it'll take the sustained cannonfire of the gunboats, landing craft and corvette to get through the deflectors, so don't wait time on it.

Once we're on board, Major Tasson and Team One will hack into the computer system to reduce the security system while Team Two heads for the command and communications deck. Seize control and then begin broadcasting the Alliance's transmission. Retreat back to the landing craft for extraction and escape.

As long as no alert goes out we have all the time in the world. If an alert does go out, we have about five minutes before an Imperial ship arrives. The gunboats will play rearguard in any situation and then hyperspace out.

Rikka Orbit

Alright, we've identified several targets in the Rikka system.

Right here is a staging area for one of the daily cargo convoy runs from Rikka to Oryan. We will be hitting the convoy just as it assembles and leave the staging area for hyperspace transit. Our main goal is to destroy as many TIEs and capital ship escorts as they can. We're not actually after the convoy, but we're out to destroy as much of the Imperial Navy as possible out here, and we're going to use the convoys as a reason for them to commit to battle on our terms.

At this staging area we believe it will be one Pursuit-Class Light Cruiser and one or two corvettes as close escort, and a Victory Star Destroy Destroyer as an area escort. The Victory is most likely placed to look after all of the daily convoy

staging areas, so it won't be able to contribute immediately to the combat with it's firepower, but expect it's TIE Fighters and Bombers to join within minutes, and the Victory to follow behind as quickly as it can.

The Pursuit Cruiser holds 24 TIE fighters, while the Victory should have 12 TIEs, either Fighters or Interceptors, and 12 TIE Bombers for a total TIE force of 48.

Our objective is both Corvettes, as well as destroy as many TIEs as we can. A secondary objective is the destruction of the Light Cruiser, although with only two turbolaser batteries the destruction of it's TIEs it's main offensive weapon will be lost.

Green and Gold Squadron's Xwings and Awings will drop in and be dedicated to destroying the TIEs. The combined will be able to wipe out the 24 TIE fighters before TIE reinforcements from the Victory Star Destroyer arrive. Then they will engage the Victory's second wave of TIEs.

The Y-wings and B-Wings of Black Moons will drop out of hyperspace thirty seconds after Green and Gold, and will make the torpedo runs on the corvettes. The two Z-95s of Grey will provide close escort for the Black Moons and for this mission be listed at Black Moon 12 and 13. The Z-95s and the A-wings can clean up any TIEs that slip by the Xwings and attack the bombers, and the X-wings can join in on the torpedo runs if the TIEs are destroyed or greatly reduced.

Depending on the reactions of the Imperials, and if both corvettes are destroyed, Black Moon Leader will call in the Conqueror and the Corvettes Courageous and Glorious for ONE firing pass at the Light Cruiser. Six X-wings of Red Squadron will be escorting these ships to keep any TIEs off them, or to join in the attack on the Pursuit Cruiser. Black

Moon Squadron will of course join in attacking the Light Cruiser, as well as many X-wings that can be detailed away from TIE suppression. They shouldn't be in system for more than four minutes, and then Frigate and Corvettes will then escape to hyperspace, followed by a staged withdrawal of the Black Moons, then Red and Gold. Cover the withdrawal of the bombers!

Before you ask, the other half of Red Squadron will be deployed else on another mission, as well as a couple of the sub-capital ships.

Now, we're quite close to planet itself, so we have only seven to 10 minutes to do what damage we can. After that, the Imperials will be able to count on other Star Destroyers to arrive, including the Imperial Star Destroyer located around the planet. Hit hard, hit fast, and fade.

If anyone is forced to crash land or cannot escape into hyperspace or cannot land inside the frigate's hangar if it is in-system, head for the planet's surface. The local Rikkans will be able to hide you, and may be able to save the ship as well.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 12-10-2017 @ 05:22 PM).]

So this seems done as an RPG, but I have a few things to post as I had been puttering away on them waiting for everyone else.

Oryan Outsystem Relay Trill

On board the Outsystem relay station Trill, little was done to alleviate the bordem of the small crew. Most of the communications protocols and redirect algorithims were automatically handled by station computers and droids, monitored by a small team of Imperical Communications staffs, assisted by droids of all types and specialities.

Without warning, an Imperial Corvette, flanked by a pair of Sentinel Landing Craft and Cygnus Assault gunboats decanted from hyperspace, booming threats and commands.

Assassin-Class Corvette Furious

Red-haired, petite, and by some accounts considered beautiful, Captain Ketrian Altronel of Hargeeva stood at her full height garbed in the uniform of an Imperial Corvette Captain and roared into the holofeed.

"This is the Imperial Sector Customs Corvette Furious" she screamed. "You are in violation of the Internal Smuggling Act signed in the Twelth Year of the Empire! By the warrant signed by Moff Ysolve himself, you will lower your defences and stand by for boarding. Any attempt to resist will result in your destruction. And attempt to signal your smuggling friends will also result in your destruction, do I make myself clear!"

As the comm officer on duty sputtered indignantly, Atronel cut him off.

"I didn't ask you if you liked what I said, I ask said do you understand what I said??"

At Altronel's nod, a technician cut the feed, and Altronel took a deep breath, and looked toward the tactical display. Both of Major Tasson's Landing Craft and the pair Grey Squadron's Assault Gunboats moved smoothly and confidently toward the station. She glanced over at the gunner's boards. All were green-checked and the TIEs within the landing bay below were ready to launch at a moment's notice if need be. She watched the first Sentinel latch on to the station, while the second Sentinel and Gunboats took a close orbiting position, as per standard Imperial tactics.

She did what she could, now it was up to the boarding team.

***

Oryan Outsystem Relay Trill

With the hiss of pressure seals releasing and release of gasses, the airlocks opened. The technicians and officers who had been assigned to meet the boarding party awaited in trepidation. While they felt they had the truth that no-one on the station had assisted anyone with smuggling into the Oryan system, there was always the uncertainty with facing authorities, especially Sector Customs Patrol. They often operated with a law unto themselves, and rumours of their "inspection" practices were everywhere.

The hatch rose, and the comm officer's eyebrows rose in surprise as well. Why was a Wookie with the Customs Team? was the last though he had before blue white bolts struck him, stunning him and his comrades into unconciousness.

Alliance Major Reet Tasson of Devaron bellowed into the midst of rushing Alliance troopers. "Platoon One, move to the control deck! Platoon Two, move to the reactor, move move move!"

Two Alliance soldiers, dressed in stormtrooper armour, raced ahead, followed by a quartet of Alliance troopers dressed in Imperial Army uniforms. Directly behind that Tassoon and the rest of the platoon and tech team followed. The Alliance stormtroopers and Army troopers burst out on to the bridge, stunning everyone they reach. One of the terrified comm techs, however, slapped down on the alert button before he was stunned, sending an emergency signal to Oryan Prime, and alarms wailed on the station.

Tasson's comm pinged, it was Altronel.

"Major, the station blasted out an attack alert! That station is too big for us to jam, the Imperials will soon know we're here! We've got only minutes before their fast response ships arrive!"

"Kark.. techs, shut down those alarms if you can, but get our message sent now! Platoon Two report in!"

The modulated and distorted voice replied. "Sir, we've captured the reactor room. Planting charges now."

Tasson, ever the realist, nodded. If they were trapped on the station, they would lure as many Imperials as he could on board, then blow the station from the reactor room. The technicians got to work while the Alliance troopers under Tasoon's orders began to stream back toward the Landing Craft, while one squad remained behind to guard the pair of techs and the comm room. The crew on the Sentinel began spinning up hyperspace vectors while the techs finalized their work.

Meanwhile, the Furious swung about and began moving outbound as quickly as it could, joined by the Sentinel that had not docked. Both quickly slipped into hyperspace while Grey Squadron's Gunboats still hung about the station, eager to move their last charge out of the danger zone.

With an elated look, the Gungan looked at Tasson "It is doneso! Message be'en send'en to the whole peoples of the systems. We can leave now!"

But it was too late. A Victory Star Destroyer and a pair of escorting warships had piled out of hyperspace almost on top of the station.

"Storm One, abort mission! Escape into hyperspace immediately!" roared Tasoon, knowing the inevitable.

"But sir, we can wait-" the pilot protested, but Tasson cut him off with a roar.

"Detach from the lock immediately, and MOVE! That is an order!"

The Sentinel, following orders, undocked and scrambled to escape, but the turbolaser blasts were already reaching out from the Star Destroyer. Three hits snapped the Sentinel in half with a massive explosion, pieces crashing into the comm station. The Gunboats winged away, unable to do anything more than witness the end as they escaped. The Star Destroyer then turned it's attention to the comm station, still looping the message on a broadband system-wide transmision. Eager to stop the signal, which had already gone on for minutes and was on it's fourth entire loop, the Imperials blasted the comm station with ions cannons, sending the station into darkness and cutting the transmission. Webs of electricity visibly crackled over the exterior of the station as TIEs and Assault Transports began to deploy.

***

Onboard the now-dark and slightly listing station, listened to the echos and clanks as the Imperial boarding craft reached the station.

The Devaronian set his team up around the airlock, and had sent to two techs down to the reactor room to set the charges to blow the station, while Tasson and his team set up an interlocking firezone around the airlock. They also brought crate and equipment to create various barricades and boobytraps around the control deck, airlock and reactor room, while one of the troopers kept an eye out for the boarding craft near the viewports.

"Looks like they are landing on both sides of the station, one near the control deck.. and one for the airlock", the trooper reported. Tassoon grunted acknowledgement. Moments passed by, and the tension ratchetted up with every metallic sound. and clamp.

The bright red weals of cutters began to burn through the airlock doors, sparks and embers drifting down to the floor. Tasson suddenly found his palms sweaty, and thought of his family on Devaron.

With a groan and a rising squeal, the door fell inwards, while steam, smoke and stormtroopers poured out. They were immediately met with the withering firepower of the team, and several fell.

From the control deck, whumps and heavy vibrations sounded where that boarding tripped explosives. More stormtroopers boiled out of the air, adding their firepower. One Alliance trooper threw a grenade, and stormtroopers flew through the air, and the atmosphere was filled with steam and smoke, and stank of ozone and blasterfire. Small fires from the blasters lit the haze, both covering and illuminating the combantants. Two and then three of the Alliance troopers fell.

Sounds from the control deck told Tassoon that it was time to retreat. "Back to the reactor room!" Tassoon roared, throwing his last thermal detonator to cover the survivors retreat. Blasterfire whined down the corridors and a fourth trooper fell. Tasson turned while he ran to fire back against the deluge while the others sought refuge behind the last barricade in the corridor leading to the reactor room.

Back at the reactor room he looking for the cowering Gungan. The Gungan had just finished arming the detonators that would set off the reactors.

"I doan wanna die!" the technician wailed, and Tassoon batted him aside. As his last troopers fell at the barricade, Tasson's hand slapped down on the detonator.

***

The comm station ripped apart in a series of massive explosions, taking both Assault Transports with it. TIEs and the Imperial capital ships began to move away to escape the streaming debris.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 01-19-2018 @ 06:02 PM).]

Rikka Three Orbit

With motion too fast for the eye to track, the Alliance starfighters dropped out of hyperspace into a panorama. A mottled dusty brown and yellow planet was framed by a field of stars, the planet itself a backdrop to the waiting Imperial forces. Green Leader Dero Jin swiftly looked into his instruments to ensure everyone had made it, and read the tactical dump from the probe satellite left behind by Blue Leader`s freighter. The Light Cruiser and the Corvettes were indeed the close escort for the convoy and the Victory was farther afield. A cloud of TIEs circled the convoy, which had already begun to change course to avoid the coming battle.

"Green Squadron, check in!"

"Green Two, standing by."

"Green Three, standy by."

After the last Green checked in, Jin heard from the squadron leaders check in.

"Gold Group, standing by." Tan Gregorian remarked. "Ready to go, Green Leader?"

"As always, Gold Leader," the Sullustan replied. "It appears that Intelligence was correct about the capital ships, but the Victory Destroyer already had most of it's flight group deployed. Looks like 24 Fighters, 6 Ints and 6 Bombers by the convoy, the remaing TIES by the Star Destroyer but heading our way."

"Agreed, Green Leader." Gregorian switched comm frequency. "All X-wings, lock S-Foils into attack position! Accelerate to attack speed!

Deflectors angled double forward for the first pass, then reset all around for the close combat. Greens on the Fighters, Gold takes the Ints and Bombers! May the Force be with us!"

****

Rikka Three Orbit

The Black Moons came out of hyperspace into a panorama. The view in the front of them was a mottled brown and yellow planet set against a diamond starfield, while a band of explosions, streams of red and gold cannon fire and the occasional orange missile streaking toward it's target. Smoke from conflagorations and debris littered the immediate area. X-wings and TIEs twisted and turned for advantage in the swirling pack of snubfighters. A TIE Bomber took two direct hits and exploded into separate pieces, while an X-wing spun out of control, two of it's four engines in flames.

Black Moon Leader Sar Rayus, new to the sector but a veteran of many battles, quickly took stock of his options.

"Alright Black Moon, target the Corvette on the left. That will break up their defensive fire. Black Moon Flight Three, keep an eye out for TIEs. Looks like the X-wings have broken their formations, but once their command deck realizes what we're doing, they'll vector TIEs on to us."

"Roger, Black Moon Lead. Setting up our runs!"

The faster B-wings and Z-95s took up forward positions of the Y-wings. Immediately a pair of Interceptors and four Fighters streaked out of the combat.

"They're trying to break up our attack formation! Flight Three, engage!" Immediately, the B-wings and Z-95s vectored towards the TIEs on a head to head intercept. Cannon fire streaked out from the merging waves.

"This is Black Moon Twelve! I'm hit. Right engine flaming up good! I need time to lock it down!"

"Return to formation, the Y-wing turrets can provide cover!" Immediately, the Z-95 banked, and leaving a heavy smoke trail, dropped into the centre of the Y-wing's flying V formation. Slowly the flames died at the R2 unit cut the supply and the Z-95 steadied.

Black Moon One's gunner spoke on the intercomm.

"A pair of TIEs got behind us. Gunners, light them up!" Some Y-wings rolled to provide their gunners better angles, and the turrets of eleven Y-wings opened up, eleven converging streams of blue cannon fire. One TIE was clipped and spun away, and the other veered off at the sheer volume of fire. The healthy Z-95 peeled off to chase down the TIE.

Rayus looked down at his scopes. All Y-wings had achieved locks on the Corvette, the Corvette itself blasting away at the Y-wings.

"All Y-wings, Osk One, Osk One! Torpedoes away!"

Twenty-two torpedos streaked out at the Marauder Corvette. Decoy flares and chaff foiled some, and defensive cannon-fire a few more, but most of the first wave got through to smash into the forward shields of the Corvette, buckling them. The second wave of torpedoes collapsed the shields, a few

torpedoes landing on the Corvette's hull, causing explosions to ripple out. The third wave smashed into now hapless Corvette, causing the after third to explode, seperating one of the Marauder's wings and sending it flaming into space. The Corvette began to slowly roll as explosions and fire consumed it, and escape pods began to fire towards the surface. The Y-wings swept on, gunners blast back at the incoming TIEs.

"Black Moons, come about to mark two zero dash plus twelve degrees! Keep moving, keep moving! Let's go after the second one!" The Y-wings were

into the thick of combat, an X-wing sweeping low over a Y-wing, twisting and turn to evade a pursuer. The gunner obliged by firing on the pursuing TIEs, causing them to break off, only for one of them to run into the lasers of a B-wing.

****

Nebulon-B Escort Frigate Conqueror

"Coming out of lightspeed in three.. two.. one.. coming out of light speed!"

The white and blue lines of hyperspace shrank into the familar pinpoints of starlight, and the Escort Frigate Conqueror and it's Hammerhead consorts came out into a panorama of a battle. The mottled dusty brown and yellow world was itself the backdrop to a viciously close dogfight. Explosions pockmarked the black starfield, briefly dominated by the final massive explosion that marked the end of the Marauder corvette.

Captain Eoaq Tching analyzed data projected on to the forward viewport. The X-wings were fully engaged with the TIE squadrons, while the Y-wings of Black Moon were bearing down on the second Corvette. At least half of the forty-eight TIEs had been destroyed or damaged into retreating, while a few Alliance pilots were EVA as well. The convoy itself had scattered, some heading toward the planet while some fleeing towards the protection of the incoming Star Destroyer. The Victory Star Destroyer itself was bearing down on the combat zone, it's foward batteries beginning to fire on the starfighters. The Alliance ships had a few minutes, then. Tching looked towards his own group.

"Red Leader standing by!" announced Red One."Locking S-Foils into attack position!"

"Group, new course minus four three dash minus one four degrees! Commence firing on the Light Cruiser!" The Pursuit Light-Cruiser, up to now only taking pot-shots at passing snubfighters, now found itself the target of the sustained firepower of three Alliance ships. It came about to bear it's portside batteries, but due to it's nature as a TIE fighter carrier, it was heavily outgunned by the Alliance task group. The slow vibration and heavy whining sounds emanated from the Frigate's deckplates as it's turbolaser began to fire. Red streams began to pour from the Hammerheads as they added their firepower.

"Rescue 1 and 2 deploying!" Immediately two Lambda-lcass shuttles deployed from the Frigate, speeding toward the hapless pilots. Tching made a decision, barking: "Red Squadron, provide cover for the shuttles! Rescue One, I want prisoners! Pick up TIE pilots if you have time, but focus on our people first!"

Tching moved to the comm console. "Black Moon Leader, join us with the Cruiser when you;re done with the second Corvette."

Rayus's voice, deliberately modified by distorters, replied tightly: "Copy, Conquerer Actual"

Tching moved back to the viewport to observe the unfolding battle.


*****

Rikka Three Orbit

"Pull up, Gold Three, pull up! Gold Two, rolling scissors NOW!"

Gold Leader hauled back on his flight stick and twisted the vector flaps and jets to the left. Beside, him Gold Two copied his maneuver. The starfield shifted quickly, and for a brief moment showed Gold Three nearly vertical and accelerated. Then the pursuing TIEs were in view and

Gregorian and Gold Two took quick shots. Gregorian's missed, but Two's cannon fire pierced the Interceptor's cockpit and juncture of the fuselage and the left wing. The cockpit imploded briefly before erupting into fire, the left wing coming off. Gregorian's target veered off, now pursued by Green's A-wings.

Gregorian and Gold Two continued their sweeping roll and came to view the battlefield. The TIEs were all but gone, most of the remainder retreating to the safety of the Victory Destroyer. Gold and Green let them go, unwilling to challenge the firepower of the Victory. The second Corvette had also been destroyed, but the Imperial Light Cruiser had also come about to meet the Victory, but was now beset by the Alliance ships and bombers.

Explosions from torpedoes and turbolaser rained on the hull as the Pursuit-class cruiser took a pounding.

Another two wings of TIEs streamed from the surface, but were minutes away yet. The Victory was another problem. Too big to handle with what Alliance forces were on hand, and most of the Alliance forces were weary, if not battered.

"Gold Flights One and Two, form up! Flight Three, keep an eye on the remaining TIEs by the Victory but do not engage unless they make a move towards us. Flights One and Two, let's go help with the cruiser."

Suddenly, a loud clear signal came over the comms. Tching's Artisian-accented voice announced, "This is Conqueror Actual. Time to withdraw, the Task Group is pulling out, and will enter hyperspace in 45 seconds. Green and Gold Groups, cover the Black Moons as they also move into hyperspace, and then follow."

Gregorian protested. "But Conqueror, we need only a few more moments and the Light Cruiser will be scrap!"

"Negative Gold Leader, Imperial reinforcements are enroute. And the Light Cruiser is already a total constructive loss. Rescue Group is back aboard with our survivors. Our objectives are accomplished. Now pull out before we are overwhelmed like we were at Scarif!"

The brash Corellian saw his point. "Acknowledged. Gold Squadron, form up. Let's put ourselves between the Victory and the Alliance ships and bombers."

Over the comms, he heard Green Leader Dero Jin do the same, but put his squadron between the TIEs approaching from the planet.

Indeed, the Victory was uncomfortably close, it`s turbolaser becoming more accurate and damaging to the Frigate and Hammerheads.

A few more blasts of cannon fire, and flickers of motion, and the Alliance ships diappeared into hyperspace, leaving behind them wreckage, blasted debris, frightened crewmen of the convoy and infuriated Imperials.

After the Alliance ships had departed, an Imperial Star Destroyer arrived.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 12-30-2017 @ 08:52 AM).]

SWUUI

Alliance Captain Maldis shivered within his parka. This was a cold world, so much unlike his lush and humid homeworld of Fondor. And between the heat of the volcanic ranges, and the moisture locked within the vast ice sheets, it was was also a dry world.

Still, the planet had it's beauty. The city-enclave itself was positioned directly next to the ice fields, while the slopes and foothills of the volcanic range began where the ice had left off, and the balance between fire and ice that was not lost on Maldis. Indeed, from his current vantage point Maldis had stunning vistas of both smoking black masses of the volcanos and endless ice velds surrounding the city.

The spaceport was the usual combintation of scorch marks and greases, dusted with a layer of snow and frost.

The enclave, the size of a small town, and the spaceport was made primarily of the local material, the grey and black squat buildings huddled closely together. The streets and laneways were smaller than what Maldis was used to, most likely a reaction to conversing as much heat - and time spend outdoors - as possible. As a mercantile enclave, it held a drab, functionalist theme, with little signs of life or decoration in the streets beyond a dusting of snow and frost and the ubiquitous graffiti found everywhere. The Rebel Crescent was occasionally observed amongst the images painted of the alleys and corridors of the spaceport, a sign of hope that raised Maldis's expectations of his mission.

Imperials were present in the enclave as well, mostly Imperial Customs units, and the usual errata of government personel. From the reports from the local operatives and talk of the taverns and cantinas, the recent Alliance strike against the snowtrooper transports was talk of the planet. Images of the crashing and burning transports and TIEs had circulated around the enclave's populations.

The Ensos who ran the enclave were without their atmospheric suits they were often observed throughout the galaxy. Indeed, their wear would be considered more for tropical climes. They mixed easily and casually with the outworlders who streamed to Swuui to trade for the Swuui Ice-Crystals, a mineral that absorbed all heat, and maintained a near-freezing temperature at all times. The Swuui themselves were present. Generally comfortably with using galactic-wide technology, and clad only their utility belts and bandoliers laden with equipment, they were covered only by their mottled blue-white fur, which made them nearly invisible against the ice fields.

Maldis had read a briefing where the Swuuis physiologies unsuited for non-freezing temperatures. They treated the geo-thermal taps they used to power their civilization as one would create an old-fashioned fission reactors - incredibly useful but highly dangerous if improperly contained and handled. Maldis had an opportunity to speak with some of the Swuui elders. There in one of the ice-crystal cities, he listened to stories of Swuuis being massacred by roving Imperial "training" excercises, and being hunted for sport, their furs prized among the various stormtroopers and instructors that ranged from the training bases scattered around the northern hemisphere.

As he prepared to head back to the freighter Wily Comet, Maldis reflected there were indeed, sparks of rebellion and hope on Swuui.

[This message has been edited by Scholomancer (edited 01-10-2018 @ 04:58 PM).]

[ So, guys, do we actually want to try to get this rolling again? I understand it having stalled over the Holidays, but I would love to see it get back up.
I actually have most of a (far too big) post that could make, but I'm not sure if I should bother finishing it. ]

[I'd love to get back into it! ]

I'm in too!

[ Well, I'll go finish that post then. It's not the actual attack though, it's actually the night the rebels learn the news. And they start planning the attack. Which I'll work up as well. ]

I'm waiting for the results of Xaph's decisions about my previous posts about round 2 (when I wrongly thought everyone else bailed) to either correct them, or to push past them into round 3 where I would focus on Oryan and Moff.

[ Alright, after bring this up it has taken way too long for me to get around to this, but I've finally done both the things I intended. The first part is mostly character bits, about the people reacting to the new of the Emperor's death. It's not really important, technically, but I wanted to establish some characters beyond mere meat puppets. You can skip this post and the next, to get to the actual plot. ]

The group was stunned by the news. Two dozen people staring at her in shocked silence. Arken and Mira, having been there to hear it the first time, were the only ones not. Naturally, it was one of them that broke the silence.

Arken: “So . . . yeah. Who’s up for a round of drinks?”
Mira shot him a glare.
Mira: “No, we need to take advantage of this. We’re going to come up with a plan to spread this news to the citizens as fast as possible.”
Redmond, nearer the front of the group for once, raised a finger.
Redmond: “I’m pretty sure that ‘we’ is you two, so . . . “


Veeral sighed. It was plenty well known that it was her and Mira that did most of the planning.
Veeral: “Fair enough. You can take the day off, but stay in contact range. It goes without saying, but people can’t know that you’re celebrating.”
Arken: “So, we’ll get drinks and bring them back here . . . “
He stood, sending a look around to the rest of the group.
Arken: “Who’s with me?”
He earned a few rolled eyes, but fair number of people nodded along and stood up, Redmond among them. Mira held back a groan.
Mira: “Ahem. Dismissed.”
Arken gave Veeral and Mira a sheepish look, as the rest stood up and the group dispersed.


Before leaving, Sonia and Bowack approached Veeral and Mira.
Sonia: “So . . . I take it we’ll need everything running top notch soon?”
Veeral nodded.
Veeral: “It’s true. I recall most of our equipment being in fairly good condition, so I hope this doesn’t take away your chance to have some downtime with the others.”
Bowack shrugged, though she held herself rather stiffly. Sonia nodded.
Sonia: “Oh, it’s fine. I can drink a little and still be able to work fine. Or maybe it’s that I have to drink a lot before I get drunk enough to slow down?”
She gives them an impish grin and the mechanics leave.

Elsewhere in the building
Arken: “Alright, that makes three wines, two spiced rums, and six ‘whatever’s. How many do you have?”
He addressed a tall Devronian, Zrade, who was one of the groups best swoop riders.
Zrade: “I’ve got two wines, three ‘whatever’s. We get a few extras, do we get some hard stuff for Bowack?”
Arken: “Yeah, we should, just in case she’s up for it. Two of us leaves two empty seats, one for the goods and . . . hey, Red, you coming?”
Arken turns to Redmond, just a step away in the hall. It took Redmond a second to focus his gaze on Arken, a distance look sliding easily into a nonchalant smile.
Red: “Ah, sorry, but I was going to speak with Veeral in a bit, so I’m afraid not.”
Arken: “Too bad, let’s see . . . oh, hey, Doromy, want to ride with us for the drinks?”
He had turned away Redmond to address a Twi-lek walking down the hall. She didn’t even break stride or bother to address him, simply rolling her eyes. Zrade chuckled and Redmond shook his head as Arken raised his hands in mock defeat.
Arken: “Well, that’s a loss, we’ll be fine with just the two of us, then. Better be in the caf to have a drink later, Red.”
Red: “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Elsewhere, Sonia and Bowack worked on one of their landspeeders. Unlike when they were in a larger group, Bowack was by far the more talkative one. Sonia nodded along to her companion’s speech as she worked on the wiring connecting the gun to the speeder.
Sonia: “Well, the Alliance has always been good to nonhumans, and I’m pretty sure Kashyyyk is near the top of their list of planets to get away from the Empire, all things considered.”
Bowack gave a mournful reply, Sonia frowned.
Sonia: “Yeah, you got a point, but if the Emperor is dead, then there will probably be a lot of defections as the news spreads. Not to mention, there might be some ugly business about succession.”
Bowack gave a short, gruff reply, shaking her head. Hearing it, Sonia stopped and looked up, agape.
Sonia: “Worse? How?”
Bowack started into a mournful speech, stopping and slowly shaking her head to Sonia, who rested her arms on the speeder as her expression grew thoughtful and forlorn. At the end, Sonia sighed.
Sonia: “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m here for the same reason you are.”

Veeral and Mira leaned over a map of a nearby city.
Mira: “A place where can actually hack into the global broadcasting is hard enough to find, we can’t be picky.”
Veeral: “Yes, but I wish it wasn’t in a larger city. We can’t avoid being outnumbered by security forces, even if we brought in everyone. We almost certainly won’t be able to avoid a fight, and we won’t be able to rely on speed inside the streets the way we do in the sands.”
Miral: “And there will certainly air pursuit used, but if Dagger does help us, we should have the cover we need. On top of that they can draw some of the Imperial forces out of the city for us.”
Veeral nodded with a sigh. She opened her mouth to speak again, but stops when there’s a knock on the door. Surprised slightly, she turns and opens it, seeing Redmond there.

Veeral: “Ah, Redmond, there was something we were going to ask of you. What did you need?”
Redmond made a sad face.
Red: “Well, I figured that you would, and sadly, I can not.”
Veeral blinks, no real expression following.
Veeral: “I’m . . . sorry. Why not?”
Redmond simply shook his head.
Redmond: “Look, I’ve never really been one of yours, you know that I just help out and . . . well, I realize what you’re planning, and that’s just too much heat for me.”
Mira grits her teeth, a small hiss escaping as she stepped around the table with the map to stand beside Veeral.
Mira: “. . . Redmond, if you’re going to do this now – “
Veeral: “I can understand. We certainly won’t force people to take such a risk. Still, there’s something you can help with without actually being physically involved.”
Redmond glances between Mira and Veeral, the former glaring, the latter passive. He sighs, putting hand behind his head.
Red: “I can guess, you want me to make the message you’ll send out.”
Veeral nods, but Mira grimaces.
Mira: “True, but perhaps assuming you were one of us was premature.”
The zabrak woman shoots a sharp glance at Veeral as she says this, but is taken aback by what Red says next.
Red: “Yeah, probably. I’m all for wanting a better government, but that doesn’t mean I want to get shot for it. I won’t pretend otherwise, and this . . . this is going to bring the army down on us, not just a patrol, or a little task force. You’re about to shoot up to the top of their priority list, and well, I’m not ready for the Empire to actually be looking for me.”
He sighed.
Red: “As for your message, I’ll lend my creativity, but nothing more. If my voice is on it, they’ll have something to go off of.”
His voice turned a little sharp, causing Mira to grit her teeth.
Veeral: “I understand, a little disappointed, but I can understand.”
Mira: “So you’re leaving then?”
Redmond shook his head.
Red: “I didn’t say that. I’m stilling willing to help, just not on something this dangerous. It isn’t personal Mira.”
Mira scoffed, but Veeral raised her hand.
Veeral: “We won’t demand someone risk their life, we’ll work with what we can. Redmond, will you at least help us write the message we’ll broadcast?”
Redmond nodded, though meeting Mira’s gaze rather than Veeral’s.
Redmond: “Yeah, that’s fine. Who will I work with?”
Veeral: “Doromy, eccentric, but probably our best speaker after you.”
Redmond raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and nodded.
Red: “Well, when it’s time come get me. You can guess where I’ll be.”
Veeral nodded, and the man left. No sooner had he left, than did Mira speak again, her voice low and angry.

Mira: “I always told you he would do this at some point. We should be rid of him.”
Veeral sighed. As Mira had said, this was an old argument, and they were used to what the other would say. Veeral shook her head wearily.
Veeral: “No, this isn’t a surprise, and no, this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get what help we can from him.”
Mira: “He’s a criminal.”
Veeral: “As are we, and yes I acknowledge the difference. But that doesn’t negate that he has been a help to our group, nor that he still can help us, even if it’s not as much as we would like. His talents, illegal, unpleasant, and deceitful, can still do good in the long run. And we can’t direct him at all if we throw him out.”
Veeral had slowly become more tense as she spoke, before letting out a breath. Mira simply stood in silence, her expression stony. Veeral turned back to the map.
Veeral: “Let’s just skip arguing about this and get back to the plan. I’ll talk to Doromy later.”

The sun had gone down when Veeral found Doromy, outside and sitting against the canyon wall looking up at the stars. The Twi-lek woman only glanced her way briefly before turning her eyes back skyward. Doromy was one of the older members of the group, and easily the strangest. She had a quiet nature and dark outlook. She was incredibly pale, to the point that Veeral was fairly certain that she was the equivalent of an albino for her, and with sharp features. It was a rather eerie image, which was oddly fitting for the melodramatic woman.
Doromy: “The warriors say rejoice, but tis a strange thing, what a state the world is, that a death should bring hope?”

The Twi-lek looked to Veeral expectantly. The other woman twisted her mouth in thought, uncertain.

Veeral: “It’s certainly an interesting way to look at it. Not sure what else you want me to say.”
Doromy shrugged, turning more toward Veeral.


Doromy: “I have only had a day, after all. So, do need something of me, or do you want to talk? Or, perhaps, do find that you need to talk?”
Veeral: “I don’t see what I would need to talk about, except the next step.”
Doromy: “No? The one who killed your father, you know he is more likely to die now. Without your influence and still without you knowing.”
Veeral gritted her teeth. Doromy knew her reason for fighting, one of the few that knew exactly actually, but she that didn’t mean she liked it being brought up abruptly.
Veeral: “Fine. If the Alliance kills whoever it is, then it’s still what they deserved.”
Doromy: “Perhaps at the hands of an orphan of war . . . and to perhaps leave another “
Veeral: “Let’s leave it for today, we got something to concentrate on. I have part of the plan I need you involved in.”

Her words are terse, and Doromy stands, her face passive.
Doromy: “Fine then, none of that today. What do you need of me?”

The next day, early in the morning, a small crowd is in the same meeting room used only three days ago. There are more people, some of them having come from some of the outlying hideaways dotted throughout the canyon and mountain range. Today, Redmond and, strangely, Mira are not present. Once everyone is calm and in place, Veeral begins speaking, a map of a nearby city, Corprica, coming up on the screen.

Veeral: “By now, everyone in this room knows the news. The Emperor is dead, killed in the destruction of a new Death Star he was building. We know, but almost no one, likely including the vast majority of the Imperial ground forces, do not. We have an incredible opportunity, with a limited window that can do the most with it, and we want everyone who doesn’t know yet to hear it from our side first.”

She half turns to the screen, tapping it once, and lighting up three buildings on the map.



Veeral: “This building is where we’ll do it, the main communication tower in the city. With a decent hacker, which we have, we can broadcast a recorded message over the public holonet all over the planet. However, we need time to both break into the system, and ensure that our signal won’t be shut down or jammed. That time will not be easy to get, and our estimation is at least half an hour to get into the building, hack into the system, and send our signal. While the building has some security forces, we don’t have the time to set up a quiet way in, so the real problem is the city garrison.”

She gestures to two buildings.

Veeral: “The first issue is the small hanger on the outer edge of the city. Good pilots in there could honestly turn this into a suicide mission, but fortunately, we have friends that have offered some help in this regard. Mira is going to meet the contact today, and we’ll arrange for them to hit the hanger with a few fighters before we go in. Hopefully, they’ll either force the enemy fighters to stay grounded, or at least busy while we do our business. The garrison in the city proper is a bigger deal, they not only have a lot of well-equipped troops, but several different vehicles. If they respond to alarms from the communications tower, we won’t be able to leave after we get our job done, if we could hold the building in the first place.

So, we need to have most of our people attack the garrison first, keep them tied up long enough for a smaller group at the tower to get the message out. We have forty people, all told, so we have to really bet on this working, so, there will thirty for attacking the garrison. We have five landspeeders outfitted for battle, and we’ll be using all of them, everyone else on swoops or speeder bikes. Zrade will be in charge of the speeders, Arken the landspeeders, and Mira in overall command. The landspeeders will carry several explosives each, to use on the garrison walls, as well as having what rockets we have available, for when the garrison rolls out something heavy. Remember, unlike our previous battles, this one can not look like a hit and run, it has to be serious. This attack will commence five minutes after the air attack begins, which will be two hours before midday tomorrow.

Then, the remaining ten are at the tower, beginning one minute after the larger group. With no support coming from the garrison, a small group should have little trouble entering and taking control of the building. This group will divide between two smaller groups. Seven, including our hacker and led by me, will enter the building to have the message sent. The other three will be hidden outside, both to remain on watch for any security or patrols that the garrison may divert to our location once they realize what we are doing. One will be in position as a sniper, but the other two will be our drivers when it is time to leave. Mira knows a sympathizer nearby, and will talk with him about using a garage he has, where we will place the speeders prior.
Once the message is finished, I will contact Mira and she will divert some swoop bikes to help us exit the building and then the town. Withdrawal will then be underway, and we will work to lose pursuit in the canyons.”

Finally finished, Veeral took a deep breath and turned back toward the group, her expression solemn.

Veeral: “This is, far and away, the most dangerous thing we’ve ever done. There is a very good chance that a number of us won’t be making it home, but this is also the most important thing we’ve done. This news could change everything, a change of hope for those the empire uses up and throws away, a change that I have seen all of you in this room risk your life to have happen. But this time, the risk is greater, but the result, the change we’ve been hoping for, it’s finally in sight, not just a dream. And we’ll make it happen.”

Modified Battle-Horn Bulk Cruiser Vanguard, Point Aresh, Deep Space

Dellalt watched the last group of snubfighters lining up for reentry to the Vanguard. The various attack missions and detached freighters had arrived on converging vectors from the tri-system area. The Frigate and Corvettes had already regrouped with the Vanguard and attendant Alliance freighters. Soon the flotilla would be whole and this particular Point Aresh would go back to being empty space.

Reunited - except for the dead. Dellaltt's face hardened at missing Sentinel-class landing craft. And the squad. And Tasoon. His Mon Calamari exec noted Dellalt's tension.

"He knew what he was doing, Commander," Aborga said gruffly. The Mon Calamari stood off to the side with Pl'mary. Aborga hesitated, then continued more quietly. "And by blowing the station he prevented himself or any of his team from talking."

Dellalt stood for a moment as though he had not heard, then turned his head slightly to address her, though not taking his gaze from the returning ships.

"Am I so transparent?"

"Only to those who know your thoughts."

Aborga went on: "It is unfortunate that his Landing Craft was not able to escape - but the plan was followed perfectly. Only in hindsight would they have undocked immediately, thereby abandoning the boarding team and any hope for extration."

Pl'mary joined in: "Commander, we all underestimated the Imperials reactions times. Even thirty seconds would have been sufficient for Tasoon and Storm One to escape.

Yes, the Imperials reaction times have gotten better. And as the comm station was a fixed point in their infrastructure they would have had the hyperspace vectors locked in."

Dellalt turned to fully face the pair, his voice rising. "We could have gone directly."

"Our forces were fully engaged above Rikka and below on the surface." Aborga interrupted, "You meant we should have sent the Vanguard itself?" The Mon Calamari gave the Calmari equivilant of a frown. "A Bulk Cruiser equipped as we are could not stand up long against a Star Destroyer."

A soft voice intruded from the command gallery, cutting the swelling argument short.

"Commander, the last of the starfighters are aboard." Dellalt calmed himself, and regained his composure.

"All ships prepare for hyperspace. Navigator, set the fleet vector for Point Osk Five, then another jump to Point Esk Twelve to shake off any pursuit. Then a third jump to Rally point Besh Seventeen to receive the latest Alliance courier."

Modified Battle-Horn Bulk Cruiser Vanguard, Point Besh-17, Deep Space

Jas Dellalt entered the briefing room almost last, his dour gaze taking in the assembled officers.

The Atrisian Tching stood in a circle with his fellow ship commanders Badacca, Icanistur the Younger and Altronel. The trio were recounting their successful assault, using their hands to describe the action. Atronel stood politely with a smile, but the loss of the team - and Major Tasoon - were still shadows in her eyes.

The squadron leaders were seated or standing in groups of two or three, recounting their squadron victories and consoling each other on the losses pf their people. B'asia in particular was a center of attention, recounting her activities on Rikka's surface.

Several of the attendees looked back at Dellalt, giving him a nod of greeting, and he moved toward Pl'mary and the Verpine Ryli Ned'Ix at the holographic table. The Verpine and Bothan, assisted by Ned'Ix's protocol droid, spoke in quiet tones with the Iridonian about the briefing, and Dellalt took his seat beside Aborga.

Once the Twi'lek Hekken Brol'trop finally ambled in and sat down, the Bothan lowered the lights and began the briefing.

"Alright, let's settle down." Pl'mary said. "First, the freighter intelligence insertions have been a tremendous success. We have nearly complete data on local Imperial system deployments. Secondly, we've contacted not only our operatives and cells but also disaffected populations in all systems, from the Swuui's on their home planet, the miners of Rikka, and urban guerillas of Oryan. Thanks to the supplies, comm equipment and arms that our freighters brought, we have groups on all three planets are now organized and many of their people are armed."

"Moving to the combat missions," Pl'mary continued, "although we took losses in the Oryan and Rikka Systems, both operations were a success. In Oryan, Princess Leia's message was spread unopposed across Oryan's system for several minutes, and directly reached into the homes of hundreds of millions of people on the space colonies and the sky hooks and the levels. We are already receiving reports of spontaneous demonstrations and even a few riots throughout the planets. The Imperials garrison is cracking down hard, however which will make things even worse."

"Also, our attack on Rikka was a complete success. Not only did we destroy or cripple three major convoy escorts, but we destroyed an entire wing of TIES. No doubt replacement TIES are on the way or being pulled from storage but the ships will have to be pulled in from other assignments to cover the convoys.

This will force their existing ships to spread themselves out farther or adjust the convoy scheduling to Oryan to be better defended. That means delays in the convoys to the smelters and shipyards. That means more exposed targets for us."

"In galactic news, the message of the Battle of Endor is spreading across the galaxy. Many of the Imperial worlds have imposed communication blackouts and curfews, including our three target worlds. We of course, spread the news to Oryan, while Mechanic and her team has taken care of that on Rikka. The news to Swuui will go out on our next gun running mission to the Swuuis.

"In addition, The latest courier from High Command stated that the Alliance Fleet, Admiral Ackbar, is going on offence the major worlds of the Core and Inner Rim. Due to the disruptions within the Empire due to the Emperor's death and the spread of Alliance attacks on other critical world, the Imperials can no longer rely on reinforcements arriving quickly."

"In terms of our own losses, we did lose the Landing Craft, and a number of snubfighters. Due to our battlefield plan, we were able to rescue most of our pilots. Unfortunately the loss of Major Tassoon and his platoon on the comm station has been felt across the flotilla. Memorial servies for Tassoon, Platoon One and our pilots will be in the third hour of the evening."

While the group's faces, darkened at the mention of the losses, Dellalt's stone face revealed nothing. Pl'mary continued.

"Engineering groups led by Ryli Ned'Ix will work on the snubfighters first, then move to the battle damage on the Frigate and Corvettes." Ryli nodded in acknowledgement of his name and effort to bring the ships back up to readiness and chittered to the ship's captains. His protocol droid brightened up and spoke.

"Master Ned'ix states he will send damage assessment teams to the capital ships while he focuses on the snubfighters and light transports. Once complete, he will bring his repair ship Wanderer alongside each of yourships. Then his 'mechs and technicians can expedite repairs.

They nodded their thanks and acceptance.

Pl'mary nodded to Dellalt, who rose and faced the audience.

"That's it for now. Morning briefings for the next ops will be the second hour of the morning watch. Captain Aborga, please stay behind, Pl'mary has something to discuss."

The rest of the command team filed out, looking speculatively at Dellat and the Bothan as they did.