Dominion Broken Road Campaign - Tollkeepers - MIR Dominion of Chiron

[Prystill Oasay]

Chiron

​

Across Chiron's broad grasslands, life continued much as it had long before the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant appeared on the horizon.

Chironian herds crossed beneath open skies. Local freighters rose from scattered settlements and commercial ports. Cargo moved between the surface and orbit while independent haulers carried goods onward toward neighboring systems. Chiron had survived Hutts, Imperials, wars, and the shifting fortunes of the galaxy. Another power extending its influence into the region was hardly reason for the planet to stop turning.

Above them, however, someone was collecting tolls. At first, captains reported isolated attacks. Freighters were intercepted after leaving established shipping lanes, their cargo inspected and a portion confiscated. Crews who cooperated were generally permitted to continue. Those who resisted occasionally disappeared. It was piracy, certainly. But it was unusually disciplined piracy.

The raiders rarely remained in one place long enough to be cornered. Scouts identified approaching vessels before heavier ships moved to intercept them. False distress calls diverted potential victims. Small craft disappeared among the system's clutter while larger vessels retreated to anchorages that Imperial reconnaissance had yet to locate. Rumors spoke of abandoned facilities left from earlier occupations, forgotten stations, and other places where a flotilla could disappear until it was time to hunt again.

More troubling was the pirates' choice of prey. Chironian vessels were rarely bothered. Long-established local shipping concerns reported comparatively few attacks. Some captains admitted paying occasional fees or surrendering minor cargoes, but most described the arrangement as predictable. The pirates understood which vessels belonged in Chiron and apparently preferred not to antagonize them.

Mahporeem vessels enjoyed no such courtesy. Freighters carrying goods to or from the Remnant were being intercepted with increasing regularity. Companies entering into contracts with Mahporeem suddenly discovered their ships attracting unwanted attention. The deeper Imperial commerce reached into the region, the more organized the attacks became.
Then a convoy carrying military components was hit.

The pirates knew its route. They knew its departure time. They knew its cargo. They even knew the strength of its escort. Information that should never have reached Chiron had arrived before the convoy did. Someone had given them the manifest. That changed matters.

Imperial warships entered the Chiron system soon afterward, accompanied by intelligence personnel, diplomats, and representatives tasked with securing Mahporeem's growing interests in the region. Their arrival was welcomed by some. Others were considerably less enthusiastic. To many of Chiron's merchants, there was no crisis requiring Imperial intervention. Their ships still flew. Their cargo still arrived. Their businesses still operated. Whatever arrangement existed between the pirates and Chiron's commercial community had produced something dangerously close to stability.

Now Mahporeem threatened to upset it. The Remnant had a different interpretation. Someone had decided that passage through Chiron belonged to them. Someone had decided which ships could pass safely and which would pay. Someone had decided that Mahporeem would pay.
They were about to learn otherwise.

OBJECTIVE I — BREAK THE TOLL

​

Hunt the Pirate Flotilla
The pirates have survived by refusing to fight the battle Mahporeem wants. Their flotilla operates from scattered anchorages throughout the Chiron system, using scouts, raiders, false distress calls, concealed staging areas, and rapid hyperspace jumps to strike before Imperial forces can respond.

Find them.

MIR naval forces have been ordered to identify the flotilla's hiding places, isolate its individual elements, and prevent them from simply disappearing when confronted. Destroy or capture enough of the pirate force to break its ability to control traffic through Chiron. Captured vessels and crews may also possess information valuable to the investigation into the attacks.
There are persistent rumors of forgotten installations and abandoned facilities scattered throughout the region. Whether the pirates have made use of such places remains to be discovered.

Suggested Characters: Fleeters, starfighter pilots, Marines, boarding teams, military engineers, privateers, mercenaries, or independent spacers attached to the operation.

OBJECTIVE II — SOMEONE LEFT THE DOOR OPEN

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Find the Leak
The pirates know too much. Shipping manifests. Departure schedules. Cargo declarations. Planned routes. Escort assignments. Information concerning the attacked military convoy reached Chiron before the convoy itself, and the precision of previous interceptions suggests this was not the first time. Imperial Intelligence has been tasked with tracing the breach.

The information could be coming from inside Mahporeem. A shipping company may have been compromised. Credentials could have been stolen. Communications might be intercepted. Port officials could be selling information. Someone among Chiron's commercial community might be passing manifests to the pirates.

Or someone might simply want Mahporeem shipping to remain dangerous.
Follow the information backward. Identify who had access. Find out how the pirates receive it.
And determine whether this is corruption, espionage, or something considerably larger.

Suggested Characters: Intelligence agents, slicers, investigators, security personnel, spies, bounty hunters, information brokers, law-enforcement types, undercover operatives, or characters with connections to Chiron's commercial or criminal communities.

OBJECTIVE III — THEIR PIRATES, OUR PROBLEM

​

Negotiate with Local Interests
There is only one problem with Mahporeem's pirate crisis. Many people on Chiron do not believe it is theirs. Chironian merchants and long-established shipping interests have learned how to operate alongside the pirates. Their vessels are rarely attacked, their crews generally return home, and whatever unofficial arrangements have developed have kept local commerce moving.

Now Imperial warships have arrived promising to solve the problem. To some locals, that sounds suspiciously like creating one. Chironian representatives, merchants, freight operators, port authorities, and offworld commercial interests have been invited to meet with Mahporeem representatives. The Remnant needs their cooperation: shipping records, navigational information, knowledge of local traffic patterns, and preferably their public support.

They have reasons to hesitate. Some fear that attacking the flotilla will turn Chiron into a battleground. Others worry about exchanging a tolerable pirate presence for permanent Imperial oversight. Some may know considerably more about the pirates than they are willing to admit.
And a few businesses may have discovered that competitors being attacked while their own ships travel safely is rather good for business.

Persuade them. Reassure them. Bargain with them. Or discover what their cooperation will cost.

Suggested Characters: Diplomats, politicians, Chironian representatives, nobles, corporate representatives, merchants, trade negotiators, fixers, lawyers, intelligence officers operating under diplomatic cover, or well-connected independent characters.

BYOO — BRING YOUR OWN OBJECTIVE

​

Chiron is larger than the Imperial operation unfolding around it. Characters whose stories do not fit neatly within the three primary objectives are welcome to pursue their own interests in the system, whether on Chiron's grasslands, aboard its stations, among its settlements and ports, or somewhere in the increasingly dangerous space overhead.

 

[Prystill Oasay]

Objective: III — Their Pirates, Our Problem
Location: Chiron, Darrinport Commercial Exchange
Outfit: Ministerial Uniform
Tags: OPEN

The conference chamber had clearly never been intended for Imperial diplomats. Prystill Oasay considered that a point in its favor. There was no enormous conference table dominating the room. No rows of chairs carefully arranged according to diplomatic precedence. Instead, the center of the chamber remained almost completely open, broken only by several standing-height holoprojectors and narrow consoles positioned far enough apart to leave broad avenues between them. Most of the people gathered there needed the room.

The majority of the newly organized Chiron Transit Council were Chironians. Their humanoid torsos rose from powerful equine lower bodies, hooves occasionally clicking against the polished floor as representatives shifted position or quietly moved between small conversational groups.

They were not alone. A Human woman representing one of Darrinport's larger offworld freight concerns stood beside a Rodian independent captain. A Duros whose family had apparently operated out of Chiron for three generations occupied one of the conventional seats along the room's perimeter. There were several others besides them: merchants, haulers, port administrators, exporters and representatives of companies which had operated on Chiron long enough to claim a legitimate interest in whatever Mahporeem intended to do next. They were local interests. That did not necessarily mean they shared the same interests.

Prystill stood near one of the central holoprojectors with her datapad in hand. Her bodyguard, Nerra Trulas, remained a few paces behind her. The Chrome Guardian's presence was difficult to overlook among a gathering of merchants and administrators, although Prystill had long since stopped apologizing for bringing security into rooms where everyone insisted security would not be necessary.

Opposite her stood the woman the others had selected to speak first. Maelis Ruun was Chironian. Age had begun to streak silver through the dark hair framing her face, while the coat covering her equine body had faded slightly around the flanks. Ruun Interstellar Freight had been carrying cargo to and from Chiron for generations. Maelis herself had begun aboard her family's freighters before eventually inheriting responsibility for the company. She had also apparently developed the useful talent of quieting a room without raising her voice.

Her hooves carried her several steps closer to the holoprojector before she stopped. One foreleg shifted, weight settling comfortably across the other three. "Minister Oasay, perhaps we should establish something before your people decide how they're going to save Chiron." A couple of representatives exchanged amused looks.

Prystill smiled. "Please."

Maelis' tail flicked once behind her. "We didn't ask you to." There it was. Maelis turned slightly, one hand indicating the tall windows overlooking Darrinport's sprawling landing fields. Beyond the transparisteel, freighters rose and descended while cargo lifters crawled between warehouses. "Those ships aren't grounded. Our captains aren't hiding in port. Goods aren't disappearing from our markets." Her attention returned to Prystill. "You call these people pirates. I won't argue the definition. They demand payment for passage they have no legal authority to control."

A Chironian freight captain farther along the loose semicircle struck a forehoof against the floor. "Extortion."

"Yes," Maelis answered simply. The hoof settled. "But extortion we've survived." That distinction quieted the room. "We know where they usually operate. We know what they usually demand. We know what happens when someone pays and, more importantly, what happens when someone doesn't." Maelis advanced another slow pace. "Then Mahporeem arrives. Your commerce expands. The attacks increase. Now Imperial warships enter our system and we're told there's a crisis." She stopped. "From where we're standing, Minister, the crisis arrived with you."

Prystill allowed the silence to remain. Diplomatic school had spent an extraordinary amount of time teaching people how to fill silence. Experience had taught her that sometimes it was considerably more useful not to. "That's fair." That earned several surprised looks. Even Maelis redistributed her weight slightly at the answer.

Prystill tapped her datapad once. "Mahporeem commerce changed the balance here. I'm not going to insult everyone in this room by pretending otherwise." Her gaze moved across the gathered representatives. "But that balance already depended upon someone deciding who was permitted to conduct business around Chiron and how much they had to surrender for the privilege."

The Rodian captain shifted against the wall. One of the Chironians looked toward another. Interesting. "Your ships are mostly permitted through. Ours aren't. Businesses contracting with Mahporeem are increasingly targeted. A military convoy was intercepted by people who knew its route, departure time, cargo and escort before it arrived." Prystill paused. "That's no longer an inconvenience we're prepared to purchase our way around."

One of Maelis' forehooves scraped lightly across the floor. "And what exactly do you want from Chiron?"

There was the important question. Prystill brought up a list upon the datapad. "Shipping records. Traffic patterns. Known danger areas. False distress calls you've encountered. Places your captains know not to go." Another tap. "And places the tollkeepers seem strangely unwilling to operate."

That caused a reaction. Small, but noticeable. A Chironian exporter shifted backward half a pace. The Duros along the wall looked toward Maelis. Someone else suddenly became extremely interested in the holoprojector. Prystill continued. "Eventually, I'd also like your public cooperation."

That produced a considerably larger reaction. Several hooves moved against the floor at once. The sound was brief but unmistakable. Prystill raised one hand. "Eventually." She gave them a faint smile. "I'm a diplomat. I'm allowed to ask for more than I'm likely to receive."

A Human representative laughed quietly. One of the Chironian captains gave an amused snort. Maelis remained unmoved. "What does Chiron receive?"

Prystill's smile faded into something more businesslike. "That's what we're here to determine." She gestured toward the room rather than the datapad. "You don't want your trade disrupted. You don't want Chiron turned into a battlefield. And I'm reasonably certain some of you are wondering whether Mahporeem intends to remove one group collecting tolls only to become the next."

The resulting silence answered that well enough. Prystill nodded. "So tell me what assurances you need." Her attention settled upon Maelis. "And in return, you can tell me everything Chiron has learned about the people who've been collecting your tolls."

Maelis regarded her for several seconds. Then she began to move. Not away from Prystill, but across the open chamber, hooves sounding softly against the floor as she passed the other members of the council. Several Chironians shifted naturally to allow her through. She stopped beside one of the freight captains. "Everything?"

Prystill watched the movement between them. "We can start with what everyone here is willing to admit they know."

Maelis' tail went still. The captain beside her lowered his eyes. Across the chamber, one of the offworld representatives suddenly found the traffic outside considerably more interesting. Prystill noticed. Nerra certainly noticed. Good. They finally had somewhere to begin.

 

[MIR Starfighter Command]

OBJECTIVE I — BREAK THE TOLL
Hunt the Pirate Flotilla

They had been warned. That was the first problem. Long before the first Mahporeem warship translated into the Chiron system, the flotilla had begun to move. The anchorage tucked among the broken rocks of Chiron's outer system had been busy for hours. Cargo containers disappeared behind armored shutters. Fuel lines detached from scarred hulls. Maintenance crews abandoned repairs that could wait and hurried aboard ships that could not. Tugs pulled captured freighters deeper into the asteroid field while smaller craft scattered in ones and twos.

Nothing about the place resembled a naval base. That was precisely why it had survived. A converted bulk freighter rested against the hollowed face of an asteroid, surrounded by docking frames that looked as though they had been assembled from three different centuries of salvage. A pair of corvettes floated nearby. Beyond them waited gunships, armed freighters, shuttles, and fighters representing enough manufacturers that identifying a common supply chain would have been an intelligence officer's nightmare.

There were no matching hulls. No formation lights. No parade lines. Just ships. Enough of them to hurt someone. "Imperials confirmed." The announcement traveled across the flotilla's encrypted network.

On the bridge of the Wayward Fortune, Captain Dessa Korr leaned against the edge of the tactical display and watched new contacts populate the hologram. The Mirialan had never bothered with the theatricality expected of a pirate captain. No elaborate coat. No collection of trophies. No dramatic chair positioned at the center of her bridge. Just an old flight jacket, a blaster at her hip, and the patient expression of someone watching another being make a mistake. "How many?"

"Still resolving." Her sensor operator enlarged one of the contacts. "Enough that we shouldn't still be here."

Dessa smiled faintly. "We're not."

The order had already gone out. Across the anchorage, engines ignited. But the flotilla did not gather. It disappeared. One corvette vanished into hyperspace. Three freighters accelerated along entirely different vectors. Fighters dropped beneath the asteroid belt's sensor horizon before splitting into independent flights. The converted bulk freighter remained just long enough to transmit a burst of encrypted data before its docking clamps released.

Within minutes, the anchorage was becoming empty space. Almost. A handful of ships remained behind. The oldest. The slowest. The ones that looked exactly like the sort of vessels pirates would abandon when an Imperial fleet arrived.

Their transponders came alive. So did several others that did not exist. False contacts began appearing throughout the Chiron system. A pirate cruiser near one of the moons. Three raiders accelerating toward the planet. A freighter running without identification toward an old orbital installation. Another signal appeared near the edge of the system and disappeared thirty seconds later. Then another. Then six.

Dessa watched the tactical display become increasingly useless. "Think they'll chase them?" someone asked.

"Of course they will." She straightened. "They came here to hunt pirates." Her finger moved through the hologram, separating the incoming Mahporeem contacts into groups. Warships. Patrol craft. Fighters. Support vessels. The flotilla did not need to defeat all of them. It only needed one captain to become impatient.

One squadron to get too far ahead. One ship to believe it had finally found something worth chasing. "Nobody engages the main body." Dessa ordered. "Let them look. Let them scan. Let them find exactly as much as we want them to find." The remaining officers acknowledged. "If they split up, we test them."

Another gesture marked several predetermined rally points. "If they stay together, we disappear." Then she indicated the abandoned anchorage. Charges had been placed among the structures. Nothing large enough to destroy a capital ship. That wasn't the point. Docking records, navigation computers, abandoned cargo and half-repaired vessels had been left behind deliberately.

Enough evidence to reward whoever discovered it. Enough danger to punish anyone careless enough to believe the pirates had fled in panic. "And if they find this place?" Dessa's smile returned. "Then we let them think they've won something."

The Wayward Fortune turned away from the asteroid. Its engines flared. Moments later, the pirate flagship vanished. Across Chiron, scattered sensor contacts continued blinking into existence. Some were decoys. Some were civilian ships whose transponders had been spoofed. Some were pirates deliberately allowing themselves to be seen. And somewhere among all that noise, small groups of raiders were already maneuvering toward the routes Mahporeem vessels would most likely use to investigate them. The tollkeepers had left the gate open. Now they wanted to see who came through.​

 

[R'ayne Asara]

someone left the door open

​

dark aresnal • Draconic Scourge | Aura of Asara
tags • Shade | Anastasia

The chamber room upon Devaron had been designed to inspire reverence, though I found its architecture somewhat lacking in the presence of genuine competence. Black stone pillars ascended into vaulted ceilings, their surfaces swallowed by the dim red glow of recessed sconces, while the distant thunder of Devaron’s tropical storms trembled through the walls like the restless breathing of some ancient, buried god.

I sat at the head of an ebony table, my black robes pooling around the chair, my fingers interlaced beneath my chin as I studied the assembled leadership of the Web of Shadows and the Nexus Collective. Ryi Voltek. Jakok Jakob. Mer Hops’in. Eternity. Four individuals representing a portion of the Noctis Convergence, and, at present, four increasingly convincing arguments for the abolition of collective leadership.

My gaze moved from one face to the next, lingering upon each with undisguised distaste. “Now,” I began, my voice as cold as the void between stars, “perhaps one of you would care to explain why I learned of the attacks upon Chiron’s shipping lanes, and now the assaults against Mahporeem’s shipping vessels, from other sources rather than from the people who supposedly constitute my intelligence network?”

I allowed the silence to settle before turning my attention toward Jakok Jakob. “And you, Mr. Jakob, are responsible for security. Pray enlighten me as to what, precisely, you have been doing with that responsibility, because from where I am sitting, the answer appears to be absolutely nothing.”

I leaned forward, the faint scrape of my black-gloved fingertips against the ebony table sounding disproportionately loud in the chamber. “Tell me why it falls upon me to investigate reports of shipping manifests and navigational routes being leaked to these pirates. Why must I uncover the rot in our own backyards while those entrusted with guarding them sit comfortably in the dark? Anyone?”

My eyes narrowed. “I am waiting. Do try to make the answer less embarrassing than the question.”

“Forgive us, Lady Sycophantia,” Mer Hops’in replied, inclining his head with the practiced composure of someone who had mistaken my patience for an inexhaustible resource. “Our operations have not been disturbed, and we saw no need to involve ourselves in matters outside our immediate agendas. To be frank, these rumours of pirates have only just reached our ears.”

A brief pause followed, during which the speaker appeared to consider whether honesty might be improved by a compliment. “They are good, though. Really good.”

I stared at them. For one exquisite moment, I entertained the possibility that the Force had finally grown tired of sentient life and was preparing to extinguish it altogether. Rumours. The word drifted through my mind like a particularly offensive specimen preserved in formaldehyde. I slowly turned my head toward Ryi Voltek, who sat in silence, his expression offering nothing of substance. Then I looked to Eternity, leader of the Nexus Collective, whose stillness was equally unhelpful.

Neither volunteered an explanation.

Neither appeared eager to defend the apparent indifference. How fascinating. We had assembled an alliance of shadows, yet when something possibly could begin hunting us from the darkness, its leaders had apparently decided that remaining perfectly still would render them invisible.

“Remarkable,” I hissed, a thin, humourless smile touching my black lips. “We have cultivated an organization capable of infiltrating networks, manipulating information, and operating beneath the notice of entire governments, yet the moment our own shipping routes could be compromised, we become a gathering of philosophers debating whether the knife in our backs is real. I must congratulate you. It takes considerable talent to make incompetence appear so thoroughly coordinated.”

My gaze returned to the Head of Security.

“And security, Mr. Jakob, is not the art of explaining why something should not concern you. It is the unpleasant business of ensuring that it never becomes your concern in the first place.”

I rose from my chair, and the movement seemed to draw the chamber’s remaining warmth into the depths of my robes. “Let us dispense with the terminology, then. The pirates are not rumours. They are flesh and blood, they possess ships, weapons, intelligence, and apparently a rather impressive understanding of commercial movements. Someone is providing them with information that they should never have possessed, and I intend to discover who.”

I looked upon the assembled leaders once more, allowing my silence to sharpen the reprimand more effectively than any raised voice could have done. “I am leaving for Chiron to deal with this matter personally. While I am away, I expect each of you to discover everything you can about these pirates. I want a name. A leader. A base of operations. Their numbers, their affiliations, their supply lines, and the identity of whoever has been generous enough to furnish them with our manifests. If they have a benefactor, find them. If they have a broker, find them. If they have a single miserable technician somewhere in the Outer Rim who has seen their ships, I want that technician’s employment history and dental records.”

I paused, letting my eyes settle upon Voltek and Eternity before sweeping across the entire table. “Anything is better than the appalling quantity of nothing you have presented me with today. You will report your findings to me immediately. Not tomorrow, not when your respective agendas permit it, and certainly not after another merchant vessel has been reduced to drifting debris. Immediately.”

I turned toward the chamber doors, my robes whispering across the polished stone as I began to walk. “The Noctis Convergence was not created so that its component factions could retreat into their private little kingdoms whenever the galaxy became inconvenient.” The doors parted before me, revealing the dim corridor beyond. I did not look back.

“Find me something useful to return to, or find yourselves explaining your continued employment to someone considerably less patient than I am.” And with that, I departed, leaving the leaders of the Web of Shadows and the Nexus Collective to the oppressive silence of their own making. Behind me, the doors sealed shut with the finality of a tomb.​

 

[Shade]

Objective: II | Someone Left the Door Open
Investigating: The Chiron Intelligence Leak
Interacting With: R'ayne Asara | Anastasia

The military convoy had given Shade somewhere to begin. Not because it was necessarily the first breach, but because it stripped away any remaining possibility that the pirates were simply very good at choosing their targets. They had known the convoy's route, departure time, cargo, and escort strength before it reached Chiron. Information that precise didn't come from watching traffic through a viewport. Somewhere between Mahporeem and Chiron, information had gone where it wasn't supposed to go.

Shade had spent much of the journey to Chiron doing something considerably less glamorous than hunting pirates. She had been reading.

Manifests. Departure authorizations. Routing amendments. Escort assignments. Communications records. Access logs. Every piece of information the pirates had possessed had originated somewhere, passed through a finite number of systems, and been available to a finite number of people. Shade wasn't interested in deciding too early which of those people was responsible. A traitor inside Mahporeem made for an appealing explanation, but appealing explanations had an unfortunate habit of surviving considerably longer than the evidence supporting them.

By the time she arrived on Chiron, Shade had reduced the original convoy's information chain enough to give herself places to begin rather than answers. That was sufficient. Answers tended to come more easily once someone knew which questions were worth asking.

The Chiss woman stepped into the port with a datapad tucked beneath one arm, her black-and-silver hair drawn back and her crimson eyes moving naturally across the activity surrounding her. Chiron hadn't stopped because Mahporeem had arrived. Cargo kept moving, freighters kept departing, and merchants who had operated here long before the Remnant appeared seemed perfectly capable of continuing without Imperial assistance. That ordinary rhythm interested Shade almost as much as the attacks themselves. Local ships still moved with comparatively little interference, while Mahporeem traffic increasingly attracted pirate attention. Somebody understood the difference between the two remarkably well.

"Nothing suspicious about pirates with excellent administrative skills."

The remark was mostly for herself as she brought the datapad back up. Shade had no intention of beginning by dragging port officials into rooms and demanding confessions. If manifests were being sold, copied, intercepted, or quietly passed along, she wanted to understand the route the information traveled before anyone realized she was following it. That meant comparing the compromised convoy against earlier attacks, finding common access points, and determining whether the pirates' knowledge began inside Mahporeem or only became vulnerable after entering Chiron's commercial infrastructure.

Others were interested in the same question now. Anastasia's presence wasn't unexpected, but Shade had also learned that R'ayne Asara had taken an interest in the breach and was coming to Chiron herself. Apparently, the possibility of someone distributing sensitive shipping information had attracted attention beyond Mahporeem's formal intelligence apparatus. Shade wasn't inclined to complain. Different networks produced different answers, and R'ayne had access to shadows Shade did not.

What mattered was keeping those answers separate from assumptions until they could compare them.

Shade slowed near the edge of the port's administrative district, studying the traffic moving between offices, warehouses, and landing fields before lowering the datapad again. A faint smile touched her lips.

"All right. Someone left the door open." Her gaze settled upon the buildings ahead. "Let's find out who had the key."

 

[Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory]

TAG: @OPEN​

Under the auspices of a new cooperation with the Mahporeenian Imperial Remnant, the N&Z could not allow it to endure the same adversities as the Imperial Confederacy had done, it was thus that while outside of the remnant's influence, the industrial world through its connection with the N&Z had sent reinforcement to the current campaign of Mahporeem in the form of a very well known vessel: The Gluttoneria, while no longer an official part to the navy of any of the old confederation's remnants, nor its successor, this massive Super Battlecruiser was possibly even more well known than most of the flagships within the successor state's navy. It had been there during both invasions on Brosi, it had broken the invading forces of the galactic Empire at Atrisia, it had faced the Mandos in the ghost nebula and had been seen widely within the imperial sphere as one of the few ships capable of defending an entire sector simply by being present.

It was with this ship, that Amalia under the position of Planetary Governor of Corvus and thus one of those who approved the successor status of the Maphoreenian Imperial Remnant arrived near Chiron. The ships still maintained its active cloaking, deciding to simply utilize the known secure channels through which messages could be sent to Mahporeem's modern navy for the sake of contacting the ships already present in order to have a proper assessment of the situation, the numbers of pirates currently in engagement and the projected numbers still unaccounted for.

While it used to be the most terrifying vessel among the imperial ships, the Gluttoneria had still aged, and the collapse of the Imperial Confederation made it harder to maintain the ship, with most recent repairs being rapid patchworks to maintain it as spaceworthy rather than in peak condition. Sadly this mean that most of its operational weaponry at this point was defensive rather than offensive, yet it could still boast an enormous contingent of starfighters to aid in mopping up the pirates, not to mention with both Appollyons recently serviced, the ships most dangerous weaponry was still available.

"This is Governor Amalia Visconti of the Corvus System, you may also know me as the CEO of the N&Z Umbrella Corporation," The voice would be audible on the secure naval channels of the Remnant's formidable naval ships, all the way to naval command. "We seek to aid you in this campaign and have thus sortied with the Gluttoneria for aerial support, requesting clearance codes and access to the current decided upon strategic planning in regards to engagement and spatial control of the planetary sector."

 

[Draven Vex]

I: Break the Toll

Issued Equipment • SE-26p Heavy Blaster Pistol | Ion Slicer Vibroknife | NZ ABC-H - Aerosolized Bacta Cannister
Ship • TIE/Vp Vigilant
Interaction{s} • MIR Starfighter Command

The formation of TIE/Vp Vigilants cut through the blackness of space in disciplined Imperial formation, as they accelerated away from the Vilifier-class Star Destroyer. Lt. Vex sat rigidly within the cockpit of his TIE, one hand resting near the controls while the tactical display painted the suspected distress transmission across his canopy.

The mission was simple; investigate, identify the merchant vessel, and determine whether Imperial intervention was required. Draven regarded the assignment with the same enthusiasm one might reserve for scraping carbon scoring from a maintenance deck. “Another thrilling expenditure of Imperial financing,” he said over the squadron channel. “Nothing says efficient use of military resources like sending an entire flight of starfighters to chase what is probably a merchant captain having a panic attack.”

A pilot farther back in the formation answered with a dry laugh. “Last one was a FUBAR. How did Naval Intel drop the ball on that one?” Lt. Vex snorted. “Tech geeks. What did you expect from that lot?” Several chuckles crackled through the comms.

The TIE/Vp Vigilants continued their approach, engines burning steadily against the void as the transmission grew stronger. Draven watched the sensor display populate with increasingly precise readings. “Well, here we go,” he said. “Distressed ship is on the radar.” He paused, staring at the tactical display. “Only that ship.” Silence followed for half a second. Lt. Vex sighed. “Ah, sugar honey ice tea. These damn pirates.”

He rolled his TIE/Vp Vigilant slightly, extending the squadron's sensor sweep. “Best take a peek around and tag the ship. Keep your eyes open. If somebody went to the trouble of transmitting a distress call without showing up on long-range scans, I'd like to know what kind of genius we're dealing with.”

The squadron adjusted formation around him, TIE/Vp Vigilants spreading into a tighter reconnaissance pattern as they advanced toward the lone transport drifting in the darkness.

The merchant vessel grew larger against the stars as Draven led the formation closer, the ship appearing almost abandoned against the immense emptiness surrounding it. His scanners swept across its hull, interrogating its transponder, power signature, drive configuration, and registry markings. One by one, the data resolved across his display.

He leaned forward slightly. “Well, I'll be damned.” He tapped the console and transmitted the findings to the squadron. “Not one of ours according to the ship's signature reading.” A pause. “Somebody else's problem now.”

The squadron erupted into restrained laughter as the TIE/Vp Vigilants swept past the transport, their engines leaving thin trails of light against the darkness while Draven calmly guided his pilots onward, quite content to let someone else explain why their mysterious distress call had somehow become the Imperial Navy's problem in the first place.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
CHIRON SYSTEM
OBJECTIVE I: BREAK THE TOLL

The Disruptor-class Ion Cannon Carriers fired off their gravity well projectors as soon as they entered the Chiron System.

This "pirate flotilla" that had been harassing Mahporeenian shipping for the last several weeks needed to be dealt with before raids and skirmishing devolved into full blown open warfare. Having learned their lesson from their engagements with the Wild Space Rebellion, the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant was determined to nip this issue in the bud before the pirates could inflict any more damage than they already had.

The only problem? Someone had tipped them off that Imperials would be entering the system.

As the bulk of Mahporeenian naval forces dropped out of hyperspace, the supposed flotilla that they had been sent to deal with had seemingly vanished, almost as if they had some sort of advanced warning ahead of time. Sensors were picking up scattered contacts here and there, but if this was supposed to be a mighty pirate fleet, it must had been the smallest and saddest looking one ever assembled in the history of the galaxy.

Still, it wasn't a total loss. A few stragglers were struggling to make their escape, and the asteroids present in the system undoubtedly held secrets within them, quite likely to have been converted into asteroid bases by the pilots and smugglers who were operating out of Chiron.

The three Disruptor-class Ion Cannon Carriers would hopefully prove sufficient to prevent any other ships from fleeing, and they joined up next to the Vilifier-class Star Destroyer that was already present and The Gluttoneria, under the command of Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory . A couple of CR125U Corvettes, PGEM/C-SOC Gozantis and a single Laimar-class Stealth Carrier rounded out the Imperial naval capability, more than enough to deal with any present company and unexpected guests that might potentially drop in at any moment.

From that Laimar-class Stealth Carrier came Ronhar Tane in his ship, the MIN Fist of Mahporeem, followed closely behind by a squadron of Eta-2 Shadow Interceptors. Anything that was still hiding out in the system would quickly be found and identified, and Imperial forces were in the middle of readying a number of TIE/sa SLEP Boarding Craft to see if it was possible to capture enemy personnel and intelligence. If they were hiding something out how, it would be found and captured one way or another. The only question was whether or not they had taken anything of any value with them when they had jumped away.

As Ronhar's group charged forward, a general warning from the Imperial forces went out over open comms:

"Attention any vessels operating within the area. You are ordered to power down your shields and prepare yourselves for boarding. Failure to comply will be seen as an act of aggression and dealt with accordingly. You will not be given any additional warnings!"
​

Spoiler: Ronhar's Loadout

• Head
  • Helm of Authority
    • Rangefinder
• Torso
  • Tashai Coat of Coins
  • Mk 45 Protective Vest
  • "Kitetsu" Force Energy Cycler
  • Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
    • Miniaturized Smoke Grenade Launcher
    • Empty Automated Weapon Mounting Point
• Arms
  • Tashai Coat of Coins
  • Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
    • NZ Medpack Display
    • Retractable Vibroblade
    • NZ Pangolin Type 1/A Reactive Armor Plating
• Legs
  • Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
    • NZ MAM MkII Jet Maneuvering Gear
• Cybernetics
  • Mod V Cyberarms
  • Cyberlegs Mod III
• Weapons
  • Burnblade
  • Prototype Sonic Pistol
  • Mahporeem Acid Rifle
  • Model 216 "Big Game Hunter"
• Ordinance
  • Two Rhydonium Grenades OR Three Mk II Viral Bombs
• Medical Supplies
  • Carapace Knitters
  • ABC - Aerosolized Bacta Cannisters

TAGS:
MIR Starfighter Command
Draven Vex
Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory
Korben Aej
OPEN

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Objective:3
Tags: Open
​

"Yes, Mother, I'm staying out of trouble. I'm fine. Well..." Elian chuckled lightly as he stopped talking to listen to his mother's words over the comlink. He could hear the tone in her voice, sweet, caring, but also stern. Elian gave a glance around the area as chaos lightly ensued. Shipments of supplies were arriving, and as to the reason why, their idea was solid, but there always seemed to be some hidden agenda. To these locals, he didn't doubt their caution. He wasn't here to start a coup, though. Word had reached him of infrastructure that needed to be tended to dramatically, with families begging for help with repairs and the like.

Elian was just the man for the job.

"Mom, I promise I'm fine. I've got a few of the house guards with me, as they always are." Elian cleared his throat as he listened to more. "Well, yes. I mean, I'm somewhere I shouldn't be, but people need help. I'm just doing what I should be doing."

Elian spoke as he moved to the side near the alleyway to finish his conversation. "Mother, I love you. I'll talk to you soon." he said quickly as he closed the comms.

Oh, she was going to kill him. But he had work to do. Elian moved toward the first contact, the one who had drawn him here in the first place.

​

 

[Korben Aej]

@Open to whomever might want me as a wingwoman.

Ship: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/TIE/sr_starfighter A modified TIE/sr starfighter. black with navy blue highlights

Weapons: C-10 heavy blaster pistol and an E-11 blaster rifle.

Droid Companion: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Phase_II_Dark_Trooper/Legends A modified Phase Two Dark Trooper nicknamed "Mr. Fist".

Y-wing Pilot: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Fud_Sang's_species/Legends (He's not gonna make it...)

Objective: #1 - Pirate Hunting - "Pay the Toll"

Ronhar Tane MIR Starfighter Command Draven Vex Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory
OOC: I went ahead and tagged everyone who might have an interest in my side of the Objective, but don't feel obligated to interact unless you want to, of course! Anyway, let's have some fun! Happy Writing, one and all!

This new set of Imperials, despite their bizarre aesthetic, had really been a decent group of folks.

The young Chikarri twirled the unlit cigarra between the fingers of her right hand, giving it a sideways glance of contemplation, before she settled for tossing the unlit cancer stick onto the floor of her immaculate and pristinely-kept TIE. A cleaning droid would discover and get rid of it later, once this job was done and over with. Thankfully, what the cheery Flight Leader of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant who had shared it with her didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She recalled waving pleasantly to the rotund man on the way to their respective ships, she and the few other mercenaries who had signed up for this job alongside the Mahporeem(s?) (is it the same singular and plural, or does one add an 'S' at the end?) had each been given a cigarra to light up just before they all had taken flight and proceeded, one by one, outside of the hangar to join the Commander, one Ronhar Tane 's forces.

The bizarre alien had thanked him resolutely for the flight suit designed along her specifications (such forethought!) and had had her droid ignite one his pointer fingers to make a show of lighting the cigarra even as the starfighter's ramp closed, blocking her from view as she waved a cheery farewell to the Fat Commander. While she had meant it when it came to the kindness and gratitude for her Mahporeem allies' accommodations, general honorability, thus far in their accommodations, the young Chikarri found herself grimacing and extending her tongue in disgust at the sight of the gift within the privacy of her ship. It was such a flithy habit!

The alien had been among the most bizarre of the ragtag mercenaries who had responded to a contract for this skirmish alongside the Mahporeem Imperial Forces: a five foot tall, slim and petite rodent species that was far strnger then she might have looked. The Imperials in question had been cheerful and wondrously helpful before and during the mission setup; they had generously allowed the use of their capital ships and transports to aid in this undertaking against such common criminal scum (for a few who had accepted more detailed contracts to stay for the long haul, if the skirmish should have ended up taking another day or two among the asteroids), to hunt down as much of the criminals' forces as might be necessary to send the proper message: don't steal from the Mahporeem Remnant!

At barely five feet tall, the young Chikarri girl had been given more then her share of strange looks and one bout of laughter (she had ignored it - the Officer was reprimanded on the spot) as she had been led towards the briefing room by the Flight Commander in question, where the two and a smatter of fellow Mahporeem and mercenary pilots, most wearing matching black and gray (subject to change if that's incorrect) flight suits, most of the crew and mercenaries either joking and laughing together or else casting dubious looks at one another; for her part, the scrawny Chikarri was serious and solemn, tapered ears folded backwards along her head, eyes serious and bright and with her slim arms crossed over her boyish chest, which was easily obscured by a flight suits control panel, while the offered species-custom helmet rested on the end of the bench at her side, her thick-furred, bushy tail draped over it protectively.

The girl in question had motioned her droid, an immense, unseen mass of glossy, blackened phrik highlighted with bronze edges along its armor plating for an aesthetic and personal flair. "Mr. Fist" as he was known, sported a variety of unusual additions and resembled an above-average-sized human in Trooper armor, but those ignorant of their Galactic History wouldn't know that he was, in fact, a literal and effective killing machine. As calm and still as a statue, he now rested in a specially-crafted droid socket, locked into place just beside the ship's descending ramp at the rear of the starfighter.

Korben would pity the poor fool who tried to walk in on her aggressively one day, while hoping that Fist didn't leave too much of mess behind for her to clean up afterwards. She had raised her TIE's ramp afterwards and did a last check of her medical supplies and bacta reserves, in case it would be needed after the battle, and was pleased with her preparations, not for the first time.

Now settled into her pilot's chair, she was startled to see, of all things, a ship that looked like an X-wing among the Mahporeem, leading a full squadron of Mahporeem Imperials behind it! She laughed at the plain old cool-ness of this whole situation! The history of the Empire in its many and varied incarnations beforehand had never looked so eclectic, bizarre and just plain awesome, aesthetically-speaking. She glanced back at her droid and blew him a kiss for good luck. Maybe following the x-wing would bring some good luck, Force willing. A modified, anciet-looking, rusted Y-wing chortled strangely in front of her, and Korben squinted at the pilot through the back of his windows... Yep! It was that fat, square-looking guy with the eye-stalks... Korben tongued her cheek, thinking for a moment...

She couldn't remember what they were called...

The Y-wing FINALLY passed through the Laimar-class Carrier's ray shield, puttering off to the left with a light blue flare of its engines, the right one of which sputtered for a moment or two before the weird fat guy made his way off into the void to close the distance from their prey. With a soft grunt of committal, the youth shifted her TIE/sr's blocky frame out of the ray shield, banking to the left with the distinct whirring roar that nearly all TIEs possessed. She thought of the Y-wing before her, and silently hoped the old man inside was going to survive... He had been a bit cantankerous and perverted in his ill-fitting flight suit, but he had at least been polite enough to leave well enough alone when the Imperial females had told him to back off.

Silently wishing the old fart luck, the Chikarri grunted again, eyes resolute as she turned her yoke in the direction, up and to the right to join in formation with the X-wing and its strange pilot, whom she suspected was a cyborg. It wouldn't hurt to offer some kindness before all hell broke loose.

She thumbed the comms button on her blue-white-lit control panel, a soft bleep! signifying their connection. With a giggle, the harsh roar of her TIE's engines flared loudly, and she flipped her TIE's boxlike chassis upwards and over, coming to rest upside-down above the X-wing piloted by Ronhar Tane for the space of what seemed like a minute.

"I hope you're ready for this, Cyborg." her accented voice was chipper and only barely-hinted at an underlying sadness, "I've got your six just as much as those boys and girls flying behind you do..." She went off the line, her engines roaring as her view spun around, the full rotation putting her at the far left side of their wing, composed of a handful of mercs alongside the Mahporeem forces...

The alien girl gritted her teeth, grinding the blunt edges together nervously.

Adrenaline and Hell were promised, just ahead.

 

[Hypheer Vhyrn]

OBJECTIVE I — BREAK THE TOLL
Chiron System
Serving as Aggressor Seven under Wilnes Za​

The Queen Vhyrn's Revenge dropped into the Chiron system looking like it had wandered into the wrong war. Its mismatched silhouette bore little resemblance to the Imperial fighters surrounding it, but Hypheer Vhyrn had long since stopped caring whether her fighter looked like it belonged. It flew. It fought. More importantly, it was hers. R-X chirped from behind her as the tactical display rapidly populated.

"I see them." Another chirp. "Yes. All of them." There were considerably more contacts than Hypheer had expected. Some appeared only briefly before disappearing again. Others moved in ways that suggested either very nervous pilots or sensor returns designed specifically to waste someone's time.

Ahead, Lieutenant Dex and his fighters were already committed to the operation. Which meant Wilnes Za's squadron wasn't coming to start the hunt. They were coming to reinforce it. Hypheer settled the Revenge alongside the rest of Wilnes' formation as the Iktochi squadron leader opened communications with the force already in-system.

"Lieutenant Dex, Za. Reinforcements have arrived. My squadron is at your disposal. Give us a vector and we'll support your sweep."

Hypheer glanced toward the command marker identifying Wilnes' fighter. She had flown against Za before. Flying for her was going to be interesting. Especially when Hypheer's sensors were practically begging her to chase one of the intermittent contacts flickering along the edge of the asteroid field. She didn't. R-X gave a surprised whistle. "Don't sound so shocked." The droid chirped again. "I can follow orders." A longer series of whistles followed. Hypheer frowned. "I don't remember asking for examples."

Then another transmission rolled across the system. Unidentified vessels were being ordered to power down and prepare for boarding. Almost simultaneously, Hypheer's tactical display updated with the deployment of gravity-well projectors. She leaned forward. "Oh." A grin slowly spread beneath her flight helmet.

Whoever had been scattering false contacts across the system had apparently expected to keep plenty of exits available. Mahporeem was beginning to close them. Hypheer shifted the Revenge tighter into formation, keeping Wilnes' fighter ahead of her while Dex's group remained highlighted farther out. She keyed her comm. "Za, Vhyrn. Sensors are picking up intermittent contacts around the asteroid field. Could be nothing." A beat passed. "Which obviously means I really want to go look."

R-X chirped. Hypheer sighed. "But I'm staying with you." Another chirp. "Yes, you can record that." She flexed her fingers around the controls and watched Dex's fighters ahead. This wasn't an academy exercise anymore. There wouldn't be instructors deciding when the lesson was over or electronic weapons making failure painless. Hypheer's grin faded into something more focused. "Just tell me where Dex needs us."

Spoiler: “Loadout”

• Queen Vhyrn's Revenge
  • Status
    • Shields: 100%
    • Hull: 100%
    • Structure: 100%
  • Armament
    • Twin Ion Cannon Turret
      • NK-3 Ion Cannons
    • 2 L-s9.3 Laser Cannons
    • 2 NZ LC-2A Laser Cannons
    • 1 Space-Mine Ejector System
      • M-S7 Seismic Mines
      • Void-7 Seismic Charges

 

[MIR Starfighter Command]

Objective I — Break the Toll
Hunt the Pirate Flotilla

The first pirate captain to discover the problem did so at the worst possible moment. The Black Ledger had done exactly what it was supposed to do. Its crew had allowed Mahporeem sensors to catch brief glimpses of the armed freighter between the rocks, drawing attention deeper into the asteroid field before turning for the predetermined escape vector. The ship cleared the worst of the debris, its navigator punched in the coordinates, and the hyperdrive began its familiar climb toward activation. Then stopped. Warnings flooded the bridge. The captain tried again. Nothing. "Gravity well!" The words went out over the encrypted pirate network before anyone could stop them.

Aboard the Wayward Fortune, Dessa Korr stared at her tactical display. Three new signatures had appeared among the Imperial formation. She understood immediately. "Clever." The Remnant hadn't chased her ships out of Chiron. They had locked the door.

Reports began arriving almost immediately. Another raider had attempted to jump and failed. Two more were already altering course. Ships that had dispersed across the system expecting hyperspace to remain their final escape route suddenly found themselves calculating how long it would take to clear the interdiction field under conventional power. Too long. Dessa's fingers moved across the display.

The original plan was finished. So she changed it. "All ships, abandon departure routes. Rally points are burned. Do not converge." Acknowledgements flickered across her display. "Anything outside the wells stays outside. Anything caught inside runs cold until I give you a lane."

One of her officers looked toward her. "And the Imperials?" Dessa enlarged the tactical picture. The Remnant had brought more fighters into the hunt. Mercenaries had joined the search, and another organized squadron had arrived behind the formation that had already refused to linger over one of their false distress calls. Worse, someone among those new arrivals had begun paying attention to the intermittent contacts around the asteroid field without immediately charging after them. Disciplined. Annoying. But attention could still be useful.

Dessa selected the asteroid field. "They wanted pirates." A handful of contacts changed from amber to red. "Give them some."

---

The ghosts around the asteroid field stopped being ghosts. The first pair of pirate fighters broke cover almost directly ahead of Draven Vex 's advancing Vigilants. They didn't attack. They flashed across the Imperial sensors, rolled around the broken spine of an asteroid and disappeared behind it. Then four more appeared. Then eight.

The intermittent contacts Hypheer Vhyrn had noticed suddenly multiplied as engines ignited among the rocks. Old Z-95s. Headhunter derivatives. A pair of battered interceptors that had probably changed owners half a dozen times. Ugly starfighters assembled from mismatched components. Nothing about them suggested the uniformity of an Imperial squadron. They did, however, know the terrain.

The first wave came at Draven from above the asteroid plane while another flight swept wide beneath it, trying to force the Vigilants toward the center of the field rather than simply overwhelm them with numbers. Then the heavier contacts appeared.

A scarred gunship emerged from behind a tumbling rock and opened fire at extreme range. Another followed. Behind them came a pirate corvette. Not the Wayward Fortune. Not even close. But large enough to make the fighter attack something more than harassment.

The pirate fighters accelerated. This time they weren't pretending to be sensor ghosts. They were coming for Draven. And they knew perfectly well that Wilnes Za and Aggressor Squadron were there to answer. That was the point. The pirates weren't trying to isolate a single squadron anymore. They were trying to make every Imperial pilot nearby look in the same direction.

---

Elsewhere among the asteroids, engines awakened. The Black Ledger accelerated away from the engagement rather than toward it. So did two other raiders that had been sitting dark since the gravity wells activated. Their escape vector did not point toward open space. It took them deeper through the field, using the mass of the asteroids and the growing fighter engagement to complicate Imperial tracking as they began the long run toward the edge of the interdiction zone.

Other pirate ships remained silent. They were waiting for their own opportunity. The attack on Draven was not an attempt to win the battle. It was a curtain being pulled across the stage.

---

Dessa watched the first weapons fire blossom across the tactical display. "They're going to reinforce him."

"I know."

"Then we're feeding ships into them."

Dessa glanced toward the officer. "We're buying minutes." Her attention returned to the three gravity-well signatures. Those were the real problem. Destroying them would be ideal. Getting beyond their reach would suffice. For now.

"Tell the screen they don't have to beat the Imperials. Keep their fighters occupied. Make them commit." She paused. "And remind them that dying dramatically does not earn a larger share."

A few nervous laughs answered her. Dessa wasn't laughing. The Mahporeem commander had taken away her easiest escape route. The fighters she'd hoped to divide were beginning to reinforce one another instead. Somewhere out there were boarding craft whose crews would be very interested in taking one of her ships intact. The Remnant had adapted. Good. Now she knew something about them.

Dessa leaned closer to the tactical display as the pirate screen closed on Draven's formation and the first of the trapped raiders slipped deeper among the asteroids. "Let's find out how badly they want the bait." The Wayward Fortune remained silent. Hidden. For now.

Draven Vex | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Ronhar Tane | Korben Aej​