A Galaxy Away; Stygium Raid (PM request to join and intent)

[T'yr Dellos]

Blue, swirling lights disappeared in a flash. Replacing them, the star speckled blackness of space filled the window before Commander T'yr Dellos' eyes. Centering his view, the blue and green sphere of a terrestrial world loomed before him. Enigma Prime. A hidden world on the far edge of the known galaxy. Devoid of native populations, the world held little more than a few dozen makeshift mining communities. All corporate employees or private contractors.

No government held sway over the system, no military would come to its aid, and few knew of its existence. The only threat to the Imperial Battlegroup that Commander Dellos lead... was whatever meager corporate warships happened to be in the system.

"Advance on the planet." Commander Dellos instructed calmly. "Remember the battleplan. We locate one of the mobile mining facilities and bring the Blight into the upper atmosphere over it. The Molten Core, Akk Wolf, and Fate Defiant will move into a low orbit above her, in a defensive formation. The Native Danger and Krayt Queen are to move in beside the Blight. And the River Dragon and Vorn Sentinel will patrol the planet's orbit for threats and possible targets of convenience."

Commander Dellos knew that his men were familiar with the plan. It had taken them over two months to reach the planet... They had to slip past One Sith and Galactic Alliance patrols between Belgaroth and Gondor, navigate through turbulent hyperspace routes from Denon to Toydaria, and run the gauntlet between the Hutt Cartel and Techno Union boarders fro, Toydaria to Styx. And then there was a solid week of constant battle with unmapped hyperspace jumps out to the tip of the galactic arm. And through it all, his men had reviewed and trained for this moment.

No... He was not reminding them of what to do. He was reminding them that this was it. This was the moment that they had spent two months and traveled the length of the galaxy for. This was the mission to obtain what could not otherwise be acquired elsewhere in the galaxy. Stygium Crystals. In bulk. From a world with no standing military and far enough from any major government that any call for aid would take weeks to arrive.

T'yr Dellos stared out the forward windows, gazing at the planet as it grew steadily larger.

Yes... This was it.








Warships: 3km + numerous bulk cargo freighters

Spoiler

Victory Battlegroup Blight: 2,000m

Spoiler

1x Victory III-class Star Destroyer: 900m; Celestial Blight II
2x Ardent-class Fast Frigate: 400m; Molten Core II, Akk Wolf III
1x Ravenous-class Frigate: 300m; Native Danger III

Ardent Heavy Patrol Group Defiant: 1,000m

Spoiler

1x Ardent-class Fast Frigate: 400m; Fate Defiant
1x Ravenous-class Frigate: 300m; Krayt Queen II
2x Raider III-class Corvette: 150m; River Dragon III, Vorn Sentinel

 

[T'yr Dellos]

Commander Dellos glanced at the holoprojector and the formation of Imperial ships within it. The Celestial Blight II spearheaded the approach to the planet, the Native Danger and Krayt Queen flanking her. Behind them, the three Ardent Frigates formed a similar wedge formation with the River Dragon and Vorn Sentinel flanking the formation of three larger frigates. Turning his eyes back to the view from the bridge window, T'yr Dellos watched the blue-green world as it slowly blotted out his view of the stars. "Status update on super-orbital scans?" Commander Dellos asked without turning his gaze from the expanding sphere that was Enigma Prime.

"Two freighters appear to have broken approach from the planet and are making their way towards gravitational edge." One of the technicians reported. "They appear to be making a run for Hyperspace."

"You said they were approaching the planet before we arrived?" Commander Dellos asked.

"Yes sir. They altered course and made a run for it about as soon as they got an active scan of us." The technician replied.

"Ignore them then." Commander Dellos instructed. "If you detect any transports leaving from the surface, I want interceptors dispatched to run them down. Send the River Dragon and Vorn Sentinel if you detect anything over 80 meters long."

"Aye Commander." The technician acknowledged.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Cyrus was not a man prone to self-reflection. When seething, irreverent rage is the core of your being, tempered only by a peculiar sort of joy found only when surrounded by the chaos and destruction of battle, the idea of sitting down and just having a think doesn't normally make it on your to-do list. But that doesn't mean that from time to time a retrospective thought didn't make its way though the gauntlet of fury and come to dwell in his conscience. It was always a rare occurrence, approached as if volatile and handled only gingerly, but eventually the thought settled and very periodically he even managed to recall it.

The thought that had been so inexplicably recalled and was now circling around Cyrus' mind was that he was very fond of space. Whether this was because that happened to be the environment in which he participated in the battles he most enjoyed, or whether he was simply one of those people who preferred the dark of the void to the constricting limits of gravity wasn't particularly relevant. It certainly did matter that he was fond of traveling in space though, because he'd just spent the past few months on the longest journey of his life.

How the planet had been discovered he had no idea. Nor was it entirely clear what the First Order wanted with the place (well, besides the supposed untapped bounty of Stygium Crystals). He wasn't even sure why the hell he'd volunteered to lead the expedition. But he had, and so he had, and finally they had arrived.

Hyperspace vanished in a flash and a lone IDX (Warspite) and three Dagger-class escorts emerged in a loose formation. The journey had been particularly taxing for the frigates. In a galaxy where your average transit time was measured in hours or days, ships often didn't have much in the way of facilities to accommodate a long voyage.

The running track of new pregnancies from the frigates alone was in the high two digits. In the interest of not putting half the crews on restriction, Cyrus had stopped order administrative action for the incidents, just a mandatory trip to the doctor onboard the Warspite to clear things up.

Scans pulsed out, returning detailed sensor data in only moments. There was little development to account for, only a few small settlements on the surface, likely mining facilities owned by various organizations. There was, however, quite a bit of orbital traffic and a small group of ships farther out. More detailed scans were needed to get a proper reading. Several minutes passed before a tech made his report. "Sir, analysis complete. We're detecting what look to be, er, Imperial Remnant Warships?" The report was half a question.

Cyrus just frowned. A quick review of the data confirmed presence of Victory-III's. Though he was hesitant to admit it, he was just as curious as the tech. The Remnant had collapsed and at least partially merged with the Republic, but as for what had happened to their fleet he had no idea. Evidently it was time to find out. "Put all squadrons on alert and have the escorts close formation. We'll continue our approach for now. Lets see what they do when they see us."

 

[T'yr Dellos]

The planet grew slowly larger in Commander Dellos's view as the Celestial Blight and her escorts closed on the world. Somewhere above him, a ventilation fan whirred to life as the ship's automated life support systems decided that the bridge needed more fresh air. "Hyperspace signatures." Called out the technician calmly. A casual glance away from the primary display was all the attention the Commander afforded the man. "The two freighters?" He asked casually as his attention instead focused upon the topography of the world and attempting to hypothesize the most likely location for a mining camp of suitable size to raid.

"Negative, sir." Answered the technician. "Incoming Hyperspace signatures. One strong reading and a handful of smaller readings."

Now that was worthy of his attention. "Incoming?" Commander Dellos asked as he turned and approached the technician's station. "Did we pick up a distress call?"

"Negative, sir." The technician answered. "We're receiving plenty of hails asking our intentions, but nobody has hit the panic button just yet."

"Then it must be a scheduled arrival." Commander Dellos said as he looked over the man's shoulder at his station, more thinking aloud than instructing the junior officer. "Keep an eye on it and-" He got out before pausing mid-sentence. The ship and its escorts had reverted to realspace. And while there were numerous civilian freighters pushing a mile in length, the emissions signature of the ship was unmistakable. <An ISD-III?> He thought to himself as he leaned over the technician and punched commands into the terminal himself. The readings were familiar, but the ship was most definitely not an ISD-III, nor was it broadcasting Siratian IFF.

<Well kark.> Commander Dellos thought to himself. Either one of the corporations here was taking Stygium Crystals very seriously and a two month delay in intel had just doomed this mission, or the Siratians were not the only military to find out about Enigma Prime.

"Continue our approach." Commander Dellos ordered calmly, eyes locked on the junior officer's terminal display. "Send the River Dragon and Vorn Sentinel to get a closer look at these new ships. Have them keep their weapons powered down and try to get a read on their IFF. I'd love to know who they are... but I'll settle for knowing why the frell they are here."

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

"Two corvettes breaking formation and headed our way. The rest of the ships are continuing on their current track."

"Hmm," Cyrus' eyes narrowed as he examined the primary holodisplay. "Plot that out, are they going anywhere in particular?"

It took only a few moments to dead reckon the course out. "It appears to be a basic orbital intercept."

"Do you suppose they're here for the same reason we are?" Cyrus addressed the question to no one in particular, and as expected did not receive an answer. That was soon basically confirmed by the volume of comms traffic being directed towards the first fleet, all panicked queries, and the lack of response. Soon enough some of that traffic was being directed towards the Warspite as well.

The plan had been very basic, simply show up, clear out any opposition, then park the Warspite in orbit and use it as a mobile base as they figured out who had the most Stygium and the best way to relieve them of it. The prefab base had been left behind, leaving plenty of room in the Star Destroyer for storage, and the troop complement on the ship had been judged more than adequate for the task.

That could change, of course, if this force across the system planned to contest things.

"I suppose we should figure things out one way or the other. Open a direct comm to the largest vessel, that's probably the command ship." It took only moment to open a tightbeam to the Celestial Blight, uninterceptable by the various civilian vessels in the area. While Cyrus definitely wanted to clarify exactly who the warships he was facing were, there was no need to inform the corporate wageslaves. The more they panicked the better.

"Unknown vessel, this is First Order Destroyer Warspite, this system is now under our jurisdiction. You will declare your intentions and submit to further instruction."

 

[T'yr Dellos]

Commander Dellos kept a cautious eye on the newly arrived Star Destroyer as his formation continued towards the planet. In his head, he was already running the numbers. The Victory III might be small, but she was built to take a tremendous beating. Likewise, she had an impressive armament... but she was designed to engage two ships her own size, not one ship nearly twice her size. And while the frigates of his formation carried an impressive complement of fighters, he had no idea what this unidentified vessel or her escorts were capable of. Or even who they belonged to.

T'yr Dellos was unconsciously glaring at the sensor display when his train of thought was interrupted by a junior officer.

"Incoming transmission from the Star Destroyer." The young human said.

Commander Dellos's gaze turned from the screen before him and towards the junior officer. "Play it." He said simply before stepping away from the sensor technician's station and back towards his own.

An unfamiliar voice filled the bridge speakers as Dellos completed the short walk.

"Unknown vessel, this is First Order Destroyer Warspite, this system is now under our jurisdiction. You will declare your intentions and submit to further instruction."

<Submit.> Commander Dellos thought with distaste on his tongue. <An Imperial submits to no one.>

The Umbaran stood with heels together, feet at a 45-degree angle from one another, and hands interlocked over the small of his back. The stance of an officer, common in militaries across the galaxy. It was a physical display of calm authority. But behind the mask of his harsh facial features, Commander Dellos's mind was anything but calm. <First Order...> He thought to himself. He was unfamiliar with the organization... But he could hardly be expected to be familiar with every government throughout the galaxy. He was a man of military service, not a blasted politician.

His gaze shifted back to the sensor readings of the Star Destroyer before turning at last to the holodisplay at the fore of the bridge. The design was unmistakably imperial, and the voice of the Destroyer's Commander carried the same tones as any imperial officer he had ever known. Likely the man was a Captain or Admiral judging by the size of the ship he had been entrusted with.

<I hate first contact missions.> Commander Dellos thought to himself. He was unsure if this 'First Order' was related to the traitorous Crinian Refugees or some other wayward hold-outs of the failed Sith Empire or Atrisian Empires, but he was without doubt in the fact that their organization was Imperial in nature. What he needed to know, was if he had stepped into their back yard or if this 'Warspite' was just as far from home as they were.

"Prepare a response. Tightbeam aimed at the Destroyer." Commander Dellos said aloud, instructing the junior officer manning the comms to record his next words and broadcast them instead of opening a direct line with the opposing commander.

[member="Cyrus Tregessar"]
"Warspite, this is Celestial Blight II of the Siratian Empire. We are unaware of an such jurisdictional status over this system. State your authorization." Commander Dellos said after a few seconds pause to allow the technician to prepare the equipment. It was short and orderly, but would convey a much simpler and unspoken message. It would identify their ships and who they belonged to... a standard courtesy among naval commanders. It would convey neither an intent to yield, nor a declaration of defiance. The most important aspect of the message though... was the response to the Warspite's proclimation that the system was theirs. The Celestial Blight's response to that claim was simple.

'Prove it.'

 

[Arage Bao]

The Imperial cause was a difficult one.

On all sides you were beset by distrust, indignation and downright hostility, yet Captain Valart had a long memory. Right now it took him back, back to the old days... when things had been simpler and more efficient. When the grime of dirt wasn't brushing against his skin, his hair hadn't been slick of oil and pulled back, when his face was unmarred of scars and long lines of frustration.

Today was a callback to those old days, if only slightly.

The Imperial cause was a difficult one, but the smart and intelligent had their way to ease the transition. A relationship was established through backroom chatter and haggling, until one Almaran Trade Company started to make moves on Enigma Prime.

This shipping concern was mostly focused on planetary trade, investment and resource management; as such Enigma Prime was... quite the right treat. Valart- once a proud admiral, once an infamous pirate king, once a proud admiral again... was now a realist and a pragmatist.

"Hyperspace reversal in five, Captain."

Valart just nodded, those eyes roaming the blue lines of hyperspace with the hunger of a starving wolf.

This pragmatism had enabled the proud man to connect himself with this trading concern, for the entire purpose of supporting a cause that most sentients considered dead and buried already. In the meantime, it would also aid himself, with the acquisition of a prototype ship that was...

Well, if the Siratians were to believe it would be quite something.

He leaned back against the harsh leather of the command chair, his chin leaning against the palm of his head, while he thought about the next move in play.

It would have to be done carefully.

 

[IT-8442]

[member="Arlen Greaves"]

IT-8442, under the guise of one John Silver, had been working on Enigma Prime for the last month and a half. He had spent most of his time loading crate after crate of Stygium onto shuttles and freighters destined to leave this world behind and spread the bounty of the planet to some dark corner of the galaxy or another. Today was no different. One after another, 8442 lifted heavy crate after heavy crate from the ground, placed them aboard a hover-sled, then moved that hover-sled into a freighter, and repeated the process in reverse. Only to end the process by taking the blasted sled back out to load more cargo.

It was stupid, back-breaking work fit only for a droid. But doing it was in his orders, so he karking did it. And he did it without complaining too!

Outwardly anyway.

<Stupid karking company cant karking afford karking maintenance on droids, so karking pays poverty-stricken, near-slave karking failures to come in and do kark work for karking cheaper and karking refuses anything even close to karking medical coverage.> 8442 thought to himself in quite colorful language. <And here I karking am pretending to be just one more sorry karker without a karking other option in the galaxy. While that karking pilot sits in his karking seat and sips a karking martini.>

 

[Chip]

[member="IT-8442"], [member="Arlen Greaves"]


IP-2489 leaned back in the pilot's seat of the light freighter, his feet propped up on the console and a martini held in one hand. With his other hand, 2489 flipped between local civilian holobroadcasts and an entirely too amusing broadcast of 8442 sweating buckets as he loaded the freighter with heavy crates of crystals. 8442 sipped his martini as he watched the poor SOB move crate after crate into the cargo bay of the freighter.

IP-2489 had arrived the day before under the assumed name of Mr. James Flint. All of his ship's logs checked out. The best intel work that the Siratian Imperials could manage. So it had to be pretty karking good.

<Poor karker.> 2489 thought to himself with a smile as he leaned further into the chair, getting himself good and comfortable. <Should have been a pilot.> He thought as he sipped his martini.

 

[T'yr Dellos]

[member="Cyrus Tregessar"], [member="Arlen Greaves"], [member="IP-2489"], [member="IT-8442"],

While Commander Dellos waited for the response from the First Order Admiral, the thousands of crew aboard his Star Destroyer continued to perform their duties. "Another hyperspace signature on approach." Called out one of the junior bridge officers.

"Reinforcements for these First Order ships?" T'yr asked as he turned towards the young human.

"Unclear, sir. It could be the privateer, or it could be anything." The junior officer reported.

"Understood. Let me know as soon as you have a positive read on it." Commander Dellos instructed calmly as he turned his gaze back towards the holographic representation of the planet and the naval forces in its orbit. "What's the status of our ground-side operatives?" He asked as turned towards a different junior officer.

"Last contact was five minutes ago." The young female officer answered, her crisp voice and slight accent marking her as Chiss almost as clearly as her skin and eyes. "Everything is on-schedule on their end. They've got twelve freighters in the final stages of loading cargo that should be ready to take off shortly."

"Excellent." Commander Dellos commented as he turned his gaze back towards the hologram. "Keep our bulk freighters en-route to the pickup location and maneuver our ships between them and the First Order ships. We'll let them make the first move, but we will be yielding to no one."

In space, the Siratian ships continued to drift and dance as they approached the planet. Elsewhere, numerous civilian ships scattered in all directions and the First Order ships loomed ominously.

 

[Arage Bao]

You got a fleet incoming.

Yes.

You got ground operatives doing the heavy lifting.

Yes.

What am I doing?

Escort and contacts, monsieur Greaves. Escorts and contacts.

That's Captain Valart to you.

Of course.

That's roughly how the conversation had gone between the political brass of the Siratians and himself. See, the imperial cause had two pointers working for itself; one of them was overt force projection and the other was covert guiding. One could not be successful without the other, or so the politician had trusted to him.

Far too eager by half for an Imperial.

The Maladi reversed into realspace exactly five minutes later.

"Sir, preliminary scanners have picked up a substantial fleet presence."

Valart peered at the projection over the viewport, a scowl already tugging at his mouth. This wasn't how it was planned and if there was one thing the Gurlanin loathed it was when carefully formulated plans decided to go haywire on him.

"Make contact with @T'yr Dellos and his fleet. Transfer the codes through the encrypted comms and then let's get planetside."

"Yessir."

 

[Chip]

[member="IT-8442"]

A small light blinked to life on the console in front of 2489. Leaning forward, 2489 pressed a button on the control console that linked him to the earpiece that 8442 wore. "It's time." He said simply. "Get dressed."

On the screen in front of him, he saw the clone trooper stop unloading crates of crystals and duck into the darkened interior of the freighter's cargo bay. Two minutes later, he emerged from the shadows in full StormTrooper gear. 2489 checked the timer on the monitors... three... two... "Mission start." He said over the comm to 8442. A few moments later, the clone trooper was running from the ship towards the main warehouse, gunning down anyone without the sense to throw themselves to the ground and put their hands over their heads.

For his own part, 2489 powered up the freighter's weapons and began sweeping the large, turreted laser cannons back and forth as he sought to secure the perimeter from being reinforced by the locals. In space, an automated timer would let the fleet know that the mission to secure the landing zone had started. An encrypted subspace beacon would pulse once, confirming that the mission had indeed started.

2489 jerked the turret to the left and opened fire on a private security car as it raced towards the landing pads. The vehicle erupted into brilliant flashes of flame and shrapnel as the energy weapon obliterated the light vehicle. 2489 stared for a moment, waiting to see that no survivors emerged from the wreckage before he returned to scanning for the next threat.

 

[IT-8442]

[member="IP-2489"]

8442 had lost count of how many crates he had moved that day. He was tired and sore and already hating the planet and the people on it for being too cheep to buy droids to do this sort of labor. When the call from 2489 had come through, he couldn't have been happier. <Finally... I can shoot those blasted foremen.> He thought as he rushed off to don his combat armor. <One-point-three-eight minutes to get into full tactial gear...> 8442 thought as he double-timed it down the loading ramp and stormed the warehouse. <Had to be a record.>

Elsewhere along the landing pads, about a dozen and a half other stormtroopers rushed from various freighters towards the central warehouse. Blasters barked out again and again in controlled bursts, shots aimed at the foremen and dockmasters and avoiding the laborers that were, for the most part, smart enough to hit the deck and avoid the fighting. 8442 would hate to have to shoot them, now that he understood a bit more about how these companies had been taking advantage of them, abusing them, and underpaying them for backbreaking labor fit only for a droid... that, and he'd hate to have to be the person to finish loading all these crates of stygium crystals.

<We still need them.> He thought as he gunned down a fat foreman with a thick mustache.

 

[T'yr Dellos]

[member="Arlen Greaves"]

"Positive ID on the new arrival, sir." Called out the junior officer as the Celestial Blight received Greaves' transmission. "It's the privateer."

"Good. He can move in and provide cover for the freighters." Commander Dellos said casually to the junior officer before turning his attention to the navigation team. "Lets reposition the fleet... move us closer to the First Order fleet. Keep us out of firing range, but put us far enough forward to block any approach on our freighters."

"Confirmation from the ground team, sir." Called out the female Chiss officer. "They've initiated combat operations and are securing the warehouse."

"Good." Commander Dellos commented. "Deploy gunships and infantry reinforcements to their position. I want those initial freighters in orbit as soon as possible, and the second wave of transports loaded up and ready for take-off inside of thirty minutes."

 

[Chip]

[member="IT-8442"]

2489 had managed to gun down four security ground-cruisers, two suspicious air-speeders, and one very nice hover-bike by the time the reinforcements had arrived. Two squadrons of LAAT-type gunships had swooped in from above and laid down an impressive suppression fire (mostly aimed at nothing, mixed with a little bit of anything that moved) that had likely been because of a "fire for effect" order. Wasteful and costly to civilian life, but it was what had to be done.

2489 continued to sweep his weapon back and forth, covering the approach vectors that his freighter had been positioned for. In his peripheral vision, he was vaguely aware of stormtroopers leaping from LAAT and dropships a few dozen at a time, fanning out, and securing the perimeter, the interior, and the workers that had previously been loading cargo for the corporation that ran this particular landing zone.

So far, the plan had been holding up.

 

[IT-8442]

[member="IP-2489"]

The perimeter was secure, the warehouse was secure, the foremen had been killed, and the near-slave workers had been corralled into a corner of the warehouse. Those workers had been given a very simple choice. Continue loading cargo for the Siratian Empire, or get shot. It was phrased much nicer, but that was what it boiled down to.

Some had been offered financial incentives, others had been offered immigration permits to Siratian space with a promise of steady work and good pay... far better than what they were getting here.

Many had accepted the additional offers... none refused the more basic instructions. Nobody else got shot. And the cargo had started moving onto the freighters once again. This was sped up of course, by the dozen and a half loader droids that one of the dropships carried onto the planet. Humans and near-humans could only do so much after all.

8442 stood at the edge of a platform, weapon somewhere between a low ready and an at-ease position. His white and black helmet swept slowly back and forth as he watched the droids and laborers move like ants as they brought the final loads of heavy crystal-containing crates onto the waiting freighters. After only a few minutes of this, the freighters took off one by one and made their way towards the void. Almost as soon as they had left the platforms, the next wave of bulk freighters replaced them on the landing pads, opened cargo-bay doors, and the marching of men and droids flowed once again into and out of the cargo-bays, each looking more like a parade of ants than anything else that 8442 could visualize.

 

[Chip]

[member="IT-8442"]

2489 pulled back on the yoke and pushed the throttle forward. The ponderous freighter rattled in protest, but pointed its nose towards the sky and accelerated away from the ground all the same. Rear cameras showed a replacement freighter taking his spot on the landing pad almost as soon as he was far enough away to avoid his ion trail. "Good luck down there. I'll see you on the other side of the galaxy." 2489 said on the comm link he shared with 8442.

A few minutes of rattling and the blue sky grew paler and paler until it faded away entirely and was replaced by the featureless black expanse of the void, dotted by stars and starships alike. 2489 pulled his freighter into position behind the escorting frigate and waited for the other first-wave freighters to catch up. As soon as they had, the whole cluster of freighters raced for the edge of the planet's gravity well and the hyperspace jump that lay beyond.

Around them, a screen of escorting Imperial starfighters guarded their path through the Void. This part wasn't part of the plan and 2489 wondered what had gone wrong enough to justify the extra security. <Above my pay grade.> He thought as he pushed the heavy craft just a little bit faster.

 

[T'yr Dellos]

T'yr Dellos watched the hologram as the first wave of freighters made the jump to Hyperspace, carrying hundreds... maybe a few thousand tons of Stygium away from Enigma Prime and back towards Sirat Wen. That alone would go a great way towards securing the future of the fledgling Siratian Empire. There was still no response from the looming First Order fleet, nor had they moved much since their last exchange of words. Whatever they were upto, they were either waiting for the Siratians to finish what they started and leave, or they were waiting on orders to engage.

Either way worked for Commander Dellos. He only had to hold them back for a few more minutes as the next wave of freighters made their way up the gravity well and into the embrace of Hyperspace.

"Status on the next wave?" Commander Dellos asked.

"Twelve minutes remaining." The female chiss responded.

"Good... We hold position until they've made it to Hyperspace, then we move the fleet to do the same." T'yr said aloud, intending both the female officer and the navigation team to hear his words. <I don't care what the First Order does with this planet once we're gone.> He thought to himself. <So long as they start it once we are good and gone.>

 

[IT-8442]

@T'yr Dellos


The convoy of human and near-human laborers and droid loaders moved the last few crates of Stygium crystals into the waiting freighters, then returned to the warehouse and waited for further instructions. 8442 watched them all move like ants. He watched as freighter doors closed and the heavy transports lifted into the sky and beyond. As the freighters left, they were replaced on landing pads by LAAT gunships and heavy dropships. As the dozens of stormtroopers moved onto their transports as quickly as they had deployed from them, 8442 moved towards the warehouse and the droids and civilians that awaited within.

"We can't take you with us right now. We have no room in the transports." One of the lead Sergeants was saying to the collective laborers. "We're even leaving the droids behind. But you have your immigration papers and enough credits to charger transport to Sirat Wen. Do yourselves a favor and get off this stinking rock."

The sergeant turned to leave the civilians and 8442 motioned for the sergeant. When he drew close, 8442 relayed the orders he had been given before arrival. "My orders say no survivors, sir. There cannot be witnesses to identify who took the Stygium." He said quietly.

"Those orders changed when the First Order showed up." The Sergeant said.

"Who?" 8442 asked.

"The hostile fleet in orbit staring down the Celestial Blight. There are already enough witnesses that we simply don't have the firepower to eliminate. So we're bugging out as quick as we can." The sergeant replied as he began jogging towards an awaiting dropship with 8442 in tow. "So we get to be the good-guys today and let these people live."

 

[T'yr Dellos]

The second wave of freighters raced up the gravity well, two squadrons of LAAT and dropships hot on their tails. The freighters raced for the edge of the gravity well, escorted by two squadrons of starfighters, while the LAAT and dropships returned to the warships that waited above the planet. As the wave of freighters made the jump to hyperspace and the escorting starfighters plotted their intercept course for the Siratian warships, Commander Dellos ordered their withdrawal from the system. "Bring us about and get us out of here. Try to not show too much of our backside to the First Order ships as we go."

"We've still not heard back from them, Commander." Reported the junior officer needlessly. "Why haven't they attacked us or something?"

"In all likelihood..." Commander Dellos said as he thought long and hard about the nature of imperial organizations. "They're still waiting for updated orders from command. Which means we need to get our ships into hyperspace and out of system before that happens."

"Understood Commander." Came the voice of one of the navigators. "Pushing her to flank speed."

It wasn't quite what Commander Dellos had wanted, but it would do. As the Celestial Blight raced through the void, her commander stared at the holographic icons of the First Order ships. The last thing he saw as the Celestial Blight made the jump to hyperspace, was them move ever so slightly closer to the planet.