End of Line [The Empire vs. The Alliance]

[Keyan Mastigar]

MUSTAFAR​

852 ABY​

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"Refueling sequence complete, Admiral."​

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An ensign bowed deeply as she gave this report to the white-uniformed grand admiral, scurrying off immediately afterwards to go about the rest of her duties. Cardan rose gracefully from the seat of his command throne, pacing forth towards the bridge viewports and gazing out at the armada assembled before him. Today was going to be the end, the end of the Galactic Alliance, and it would all coincide with the devastation of their target. Already were numerous cells splintering off from the superpower, but the final blow would come from one of their mortal enemies.

The First Order had been nothing but generous, allowing the Imperial fleet to use Mustafar as a staging ground for their jump into the engagement. Bitter rivals turned into the best of allies, ironic how the Alliance was the cause of that as well. "Commander Praxon. Beam a transmission to the bait." Gromm boomed, garnering the attention of his long-time friend, "Alert all commands, deploy the fleet to Eriadu!"

Dozens of vessels made up Grand Admiral Cardan's 7th Fleet, several star destroyers and many more cruisers. Moving as one, the bright blue ion engines of the vessels radiated when their hyperdrives activated, propelling each ship gradually until the space over Mustafar was left devoid of life.

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ERIADU​

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An Imperial frigate hovered just outside the gravity well of the lush but scarred world, idling as if waiting for something. Any ships in the area would receive a clear transmission from the ship which read: "This is the INV Unity of the Imperial Navy. We request to defect the Galactic Alliance, please."

A feeling of slight desperation could be felt in the last word of the transmission as if the person giving the statement was genuine. The ship would make no attempts at escape, their weapons and engines weren't even powered up, only their shields. It would be up to the GADF to decide whether or not to entertain the Imperial defectors, although one might argue that there was an advantage to capturing an enemy starship...

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

Mustafar

Bridge of the Arbiter

"Watch those ships Lieutenant." Balfour commanded, and the Lt. Daryx referred to his instruments. Balfour was aware of the First Order's supposed assistance in using Mustafar as a staging ground for a larger assault, but was skeptical of it. If the Galactic Alliance was a large enough concern for the First Order, why not dedicate a detachment of ships? If this was a mere personal project of the Emperor why allow the Galactic Empire to come out of hyperspace from Mustafar? A recovered navicomputer, ship's log, or even imperial prisoner could bring attention to their aid, provoking countermeasures. The Empire was too exposed in this position, and Balfour had made sure the crew of the Arbiter and her escorts knew it.

"Governor, the signal has been sent." Ensign Reeson announced, and Balfour took a long breath.

"Alert our escorts and make the jump. All hands, prepare for combat." Balfour ordered, his voice booming throughout the bridge. Ensign Reeson signaled the Blood Crow and the Thunder Wasp to the command and coordinates, while Lt. Fredericks calculated the hyperspace jump. Blue lines enveloped the front viewport as the crew was wooshed out of realspace, speeding through the hyperlanes ready for combat. The Galactic Alliance would suffer this day.

 

[Giorg Montey]

Mustafar
Seventh Fleet
INV Dauntless

Everything was a go, he had received his orders from high command on the positioning of his vessel, and all fueling and supply operations had completed. Montey had finished his rounds of the vessel, ensuring department heads had completed their duties in preparation for the battle. The anticipation of the confrontation ate at Montey piece by piece, it would be his first in a long time, and he awaited it eagerly. But pride and readiness weren't his only emotions in the lead up to this confrontation, an inkling of fear tingled at the back of his mind, but he did his best to ignore it. A battle situation was no place for doubts or fears.

Montey entered the bridge to the tune of, "Commander on deck!" Immediately, every officer and crewman stood at attention, until he made the sweeping comment, "At ease." Montey took his place at the head of the bridge, standing besides his executive officer, a younger Nothoiin who ranked Lieutenant Commander within the Imperial Navy. Keuar, his XO, turned to him and said, "Ready for the fitness report?" Montey nodded and turned back towards the bridge crew, many of them looked back at him. After taking a shot glance, Montey ordered, "Fitness report!" From left to right, each senior officer sounded off their respective department's capacity,

"Main and Auxiliary reactors, fully operational."

"Shield generators and projectors at full capacity."

"Targeting computers synced and ready."

"Communications mainframe and sensor array online."

"Ion engines prepped and ready."

"Starfighter complement on standby."

"Hyperdrive system equipped and operational."

Montey turned to the communications officer, "Orders?"

"Fleet engage to Eriadu."

"Go to light speed on my mark."

The Dauntless waited as the first vessels of the fleet went to hyperspace.

"Mark."

 

[Mathieu Bahreiko]

Eriadu

Even discounting it as one of the oldest systems formally a part of the Galactic Alliance, Eriadu had a history full of pain and violence. It had been the target of attack time and time again, subjected to the cruelest sentiments merely because of whom they declared allegiance to. Her people knew the hardships of war, the sacrifices that needed to be made to secure the homefront and protect their families. They were no strangers to violence. And for that, they had learned to adapt. Strategies came to them, each more clever and more quickly than the last, that taught caution and misdirection. They learned from their many scars, and they had developed the long memory of what preceded each scar. In that way, each successive conflict which sought to drive the Eriaduans to their knees only served to make them stronger.

Like the people of Eriadu, the Galactic Alliance learned from her wounds and failings. There had been more than a few of those to learn from in the recent weeks, but the Galactic Alliance had not grown to the size it had without the help of intelligent beings; no galatic power could flourish with those with the sight and drive to conquer anything that stood against them. Traps had been sprung, traitors had been revealed. It was a time of wariness, perhaps even paranoia, within the Galactic Alliance. If nothing else, everyone was on edge; an attack could come at any time and they needed to be ready. With so many actively attacking them and their space, almost no planet was truly safe in these times of war.

So when a single Imperial ship jumped into the system, several events sparked almost at the same time. No sooner had their transmission been broadcast than the ship's communications and sensors had been jammed; from where exactly was impossible to tell due to the jamming. Across the system, ships and stations went on alert while scanners began active sweeps of the space around the planet and system. Although many were already preparing for the possibility of combat, no weapon fired and no ship approached the proclaimed defecting ship. However much some wanted to believe that their enemy had defectors who could bring critical intelligence, there were protocols to follow. Beyond that, there was something... odd about this ship. If it was defecting, and the threat of reprisal was imminent, why attempt to jump deep into Galactic Alliance space rather than stop at the first available station? Other systems were closer to Imperial space. Why Eriadu?

Aboard one of the ships in system, an older woman stared at the holotable and curiously tapped at her chin. "As much as I would like to think the Galactic Empire's corruption and depravity have forced those within to see the horrors and seek sanctuary, experience has taught me to take no chances. I want every sensor sweeping that ship and space around the planet. Get updates from all hyperspace buoys. I want all hands on alert. Set Condition One throughout the system. Until we give the all-clear, all Alliance ships, stations, and bases are to keep Condition One. We have to assume this could be a prelude to an invasion."

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Mathieu sighed as alarms began to sound on the trade station. When he had requested leave to Eriadu, he had hoped to take a few days to relax and catch up on some purchases and much-needed R&R. The alarms weren't the standard 'We're under attack' alarm, but rather the much more relaxing and less stressful 'We're possibly about to be under attack' alarm. Civilians were herded to designated safe zones while Alliance marines began to prepare for the possibility of hostile boarding actions. Part of him wanted to just join the civilians, but that was not the way things worked for him, or for the Alliance. In times of crisis, all leave was suspended and personnel were expected to report for duty. So he turned and started to walk towards one of the on-station armories.

After a quick exchange of credentials, he grabbed a BlasTech A320 Blaster Rifle and quickly suited up. The armor wasn't anything special, but it did put him in a certain frame of mind. While not with his platoon and not a part of the station's defense force, he was left to act as he saw fit with his established credentials. So he began a patrol through the station, helping sooth civilain concerns and make sure everyone was ready in the event an attack did some. While he did his best to assure folks that there wasn't reason for overly much concern, he knew better. FLEETCOM did not signal for possibile hostile attack without reason, and that meant combat was surely about to break out. All that remained to be seen was how soon, and to what degree those hostilities would commence.

 

[Lorik Rygan]

Mustafar

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8H26Hdv3i0U​

Major Lorik gazed out of the bridge viewport of Cardan's command ship, staring at awe at the vast Imperial fleet gathered for the attack on Eriadu. Long had he awaited the opportunity to make war upon one of the Empire's greatest enemies. He reached for the chain around his neck, pulling his dog tags free from beneath his chestplate, gazing at them briefly. He had served the Empire for a long time, but he knew THIS battle would be the one to top all he had fought in before. His gut was certainly telling him so.

He quickly stuffed his tags away, turning to face the Grand Admiral, quickly standing to attention. Cardan was one who the Major respected the most amongst all of the Imperial Military. A man who could lead the Empire to heights indeed. "I've seen to it that all of our troops and fighter squadrons are ready for deployment, sir. Eriadu shall face the full might of the Empire's finest this day.", he said confidently, bowing his head in a polite manner.

[member="Gromm Cardan"]

 

[TK-9187]

TK-9187 waited patiently on board the Unity, the Sergeant was a veteran of the Imperial Stormtrooper corps, and his entire squad were a bunch of "shinnies." Their task was to just make things seem like operations as normal, and at time do as required to keep the ruse up. That however was just the first phase of their plan, the second phase was upon the arrival of the fleet, to steal the GADF shuttle on board the ship and land on the planet with the rest of the platoon. There they would attempt to disable any defenses in the base they came to, this would allow the reinforcements easier access to their possible objectives.​

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However TK-9187 knew no plan ever survives first contact, and this might have to be changed on the fly. He listed to the newer clones of his squad, though not a clone himself, he did remember when he was a fresh trooper into his first combat action. The new clones kept talking between themselves, boasting how many Alliance troopers they would kill and how many medals they would be awarded. "Sarg" as they called TK-9187, was someone they all looked up to, wanting to be like him, and they would talk and start rumors among the other shinnies about him. One that 9187 overheard was he killed a whole platoon of Alliance troopers with just a knife, and his bare hands, though none of the rumors were true, and 9187 was just promoted because he had served for the required time, at the same time he never really quieted the rumors. Those that knew him knew the truth, and the ones that didn't he never met so it didn't matter.​

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[member="Gromm Cardan"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

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INV Glaive | Primary Bridge​

| Status: Red Alert |​

Shields: 2000/2000 | Hull 2000/2000​

| Additional Vessels |
INV Ripper | 700/700
INV Arrogant | 700/700
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"Squadron reports ready status Sir. Green across the board."​

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The Lieutenant's voice cut through the air crisply as he delivered the report, indicators on the Rear Admiral's Display adjusting to represent the latest update. All sections had reported in, starfighters were prepped, cargo had been strapped down, all stations were manned. Aside from only five crew members located in the infirmary, the vessel was at full fighting complement. The two other vessels of the squadron reported in only moments later, their indicators showing green as well. The Captains of both vessels chimed in, their voices cutting through over the ship's comm.

"INV Ripper, status green. Standing by."

"INV Arrogant, solid green. Awaiting orders."​

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Both officers kept their transmissions short and to the point, all the while issuing last second checks and ensuring they were indeed ready. "Acknowledged." The Rear Admiral uttered curtly in response. Rear Admiral Ephraim Tarkin. Standing on the bridge here and now brought him back to his days as a young Lieutenant Commander, given command of his first Corvette. He'd come a long way since then but the same man remained - ever the hunter. To say Ephraim was unaware of galactic politics would be incorrect, in fact it was downright wrong. Until recently, he'd been little more than a footnote in the Galactic Empire's ever growing war machine. That changed today. "This is your Captain speaking. We are now heading into harms way. This is just one more effort in a long running campaign against the Galactic Alliance. We are now about to embark once again. We have achieved our current position through poise, precision, and audacity. To this, we must now add resolve. In less than five minutes, we will perform a hyperspace jump into Alliance occupied space near the planet of Eraidu, the very first stand against the oppression of the Galactic Alliance. It will not be the last. The Alliance has long held to lies, covering up their actions under the guise of freedom. The lies end now. Today we make a statement that will resound across the galaxy. A statement that they will not be able to ignore, for we strike at old wounds. You know what is required of you." A pause. "Man your stations." With that final word, Rear Admiral Tarkin curled his fingers into a fist. In an instant, the squadron made the jump to hyperspace.

[member="Giorg Montey"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Gromm Cardan"]​

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[member="Mathieu Bahreiko"]​

 

[Mazik Stazi]

Eriadu

"More rats fleeing the sinking ship, eh?" newly promoted Commodore Mazik Stazi grunted ill-temperedly upon scanning the datapad presented to him by his aide. The old duros swayed in his seat at the turbulent pressure of Eriadu's upper atmosphere on the outer hull of the U-Wing transport ferrying him up to his command ship in orbit from Tomorrowland Spaceport.

In a way he was grateful for the disturbance of a system now on high alert, Mazik was on his sixth caff of the day having been sequestered in strategy sessions and intelligence briefings practically since the opening shots of the war. They hard learned much from Dagobah, not only in what to expect as far as Galactic Imperial tactics, but their first true glimpses behind the iron curtain of the despotic hermit kingdom on the edge of Wild Space through a number of high profile defections and wholesale surrenders. Even now, Strategic Intelligence Service agents were evaluating those in custody for actionable data on their enemy's military status and upheaval within its chain of command.

Disagreements over tactics at the highest levels, accounts of being compelled to fight under fear of violent consequences for soldier's families, in light of this unrest the Commodore was far more concerned with the ongoing First Order blockade. He had written these safeguards off as unnecessary precautions, believing the frigate's offer of surrender to be genuine. Another all out assault launched from Kamino had not occurred to him as a legitimate threat, especially not here. Not Eriadu, a fortress system one jump away from Sullust, practically the Alliance heartland. It would be the act of mad men.

They had suffered grave losses these past few cycles, including that of their Supreme Commander in the Metharian Nebula, but while the south was slowly regrouping from a state of disarray, the rest of the Alliance was now more resolved to defend themselves from annihilation than ever. The Imperials had proven with their violation of the armistice between them that there could be no appeasement, no negotiating with governments who could sponsor such acts of terrorism. They could only hope now to match fire with fire.

But Mazik wasn't much of an ideologue. He was from a long line of military men, a simple patriot, and an impatient one at that. Thumping his knuckles against the bulkhead loud enough to be heard from the transport's cockpit, he silently willed the ship to move faster even knowing his pilots' were pushing safety tolerances as is. Founded or no, an alert was an alert and he would have far more access to up to date information on the bridge of the Hereafter than he would rattling around in the back of this shuttle.

He knew Commander Bashir only a little through their mutual friend and the last man to hold Stazi's current post, but the recently departed Admiral Zark had considered him an exemplary first officer by all accounts. The young polar Mon Cal had shown a lot more grace in being passed over for a command of his own than Mazik had, he had little doubt his executive was adequately carrying out his will. Still, even with the hangar bay of the star carrier in his sights the Commodore struggled to suppress another wave of impatient anxiety.

"Has a transmission been dispatched to FLEETCOM?" he asked his aide, after taking a second and third glance at the datapad at his side. The junior officer nodded, and Mazik relaxed visibly, even going so far as to stretch while the U-Wing reduced sublight in preparation for tractor assisted docking procedures. If word had gotten through to Supreme Commander [member="Aryn Teth"], then the duros felt confident they would be prepared for anything.

By the time they passed through the hangar force barriers that maintained internal atmosphere, Stazi was out of his seat. Bracing himself against the bay door as the command ship's tractor beams lowered them onto the deck with a thud, he had thrown the emergency latch and was halfway to the turbolifts before the transport's crew had even started their post-flight checks.

[member="Mathieu Bahreiko"] | [member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Giorg Montey"] | [member="Lorik Rygan"] | [member="TK-9187"] | [member="Ephraim Tarkin"]​

 

[Corric Tassadar]

Gorgon.

A mythological creature from an ancient planet long past, a 'dreadful' female monster with snakes for hair and eyes that petrified men. Once a woman of such breathtaking beauty, the Goddess of Beauty herself saw the woman as an usurper and condemned her for it; though Gorgons have never existed in real life, none can say it was not a beautiful story of tragedy.

If tragedy was art, then members of Gorgon Team were all artists in their own right: DT-2319 was a remarkable shot- put him 1500m away, blindfold him and give him a target the size of a cherry pip and the clone could still hit it. '24 was an explosives maestro; it was remarkable how big of an explosion could be made with just a hint of nitroglycerin, lint and hairspray. As for '43 well . . . he didn't like to brag about himself. Each and everyone of the minute three-man team were specialists, handpicked from millions to serve under the name of an ancient monster.

And like the stories, they all were snakes that was going to bring the giant, lumbering fleet to its knees.

Every man was responsible for checking through their own kit, each one of them independent troopers trained and well drilled in the art of war. Even as DT-7343 checked the seals of his suit, he spied his men doing the same thing with unintentional precision, timing and the execution of many years of experience. There wasn't much room to move inside the shuttle, much of the forward space taken by their 'present' for the Alliance. He was careful not to touch any of the buttons, staying a healthy distance away from it- it was bad luck to unwrap the presents too early.

His vision was filled with counters, dials and system readings as his suit ran its own check list. The already heavy gear was made even heavier with the addition of a jetpack, their 'individual goody bag' with nice treats for the Alliance for being such good boys and of course, their very own paintbrushes. Everyone had their own brush, and '43 was no exception. He took a moment to activate the holo-projector on the ground, displaying a fuzzy 3D map of Eriadu.

"UULYXXGDBR9I2X2PLP." The holo-map zoomed in on a small cluster of ships, defense stations that faced the lone green blip of the Empire. He motioned for the fire team to gather around the holo-projector. Applying pressure on the chin of his helmet, '43 commenced the pre-mission briefing. "EOLAXXEEITRODXUWCM" he paused, jabbing a finger at the gaggle of Alliance ships. "EYEEXXUAGRRTTXSMTO." Jerking a thumb back at the object responsible for the crowded environment, he continued. "HDSOFFRXRIUSGTOIXXXXATIN-" The map zoomed in until it centered around a single Alliance ship, assuming a command-and-control position within the center of the fleet. "-SAINUIAXAPPIRCLTXRXXTTHH."

"EATHHNROGDAOWLRANOVGIURSRETRISHPOELXSEFISVITERBSFEEOPEFRNOTTMXHXEWILELWDALIBSE."

"TEULTWLAIMLKTAESTEEHORSGWEAEPISHFTETITRGEHSENCERSCUBIOOIRNGSSXDTUPYHRTAAUSTROH."

"RIEAEWBDLEYNFILEROCIUUEOSFBRALDLYEOPTPEHRESTNEANDEMTNHOPHPTUEIBISINHGPXXXXXOEHNTCEOSDROADS."

"EFMIDBOTEOUFCTISTULMACMONASDAOTNEIWOJPOUTMONXUERTRETGATNYSOEWTRHIXXSXEOEHNSCISOPCINR." Even through the external filters, hearing his own voice relayed to him in the suit's distinct robotic voice was eerie. He wondered if that was how it must sound to be on the receiving end of his unit.

"AOATNILLNSEICOIYERSLEAWLCNEELUSHRSETEAEINSMGNEERANFPSORXXEXEMNAATIIPRNEO." He gave the team a quick look before crossing his arms. "AAYVNEIHTSETQSIUTEONWNOSIXXMXEIOHFUY."

[member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Giorg Montey"] | [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"] | [member="Lorik Rygan"] | [member="TK-9187"] | [member="Ephraim Tarkin"] | [member="Mazik Stazi"]​

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OOC

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To decrypt Gorgon's Scrambled Text, head to this link. First key is GORGON, second key is TERROR. Do note this does is only for the benefit of players, not their characters. Thank you, and have a pleasant fight.

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OOC

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[Veino Garn]

They were coming. He could feel it in the Force, even before the arrival of the signals from FLEETCOM. Imperial activity, a supposed defector. Perhaps, he couldn’t be entirely sure. It was too far away for him to sense anything so specific. Yet, he could feel the menace as it grew about them and the sense of impending danger.

The Force rippled with their intentions. Oh, they were coming indeed, and he would be needed on the field of battle. And so, he would meet them once again. It has been a long time since he had openly engaged in battle, but all threads came back together eventually

“Jensaarai,” his voice was low as he spoke on their private comms. “Battle is coming. Prepare to stand to defense of Eriadu.”

Quick acknowledgements returned over the channels. Across the planet, small bands of Jensaarai prepared their armor, and their weapons. Veino did the same, buckling on his armor, marred and scarred with debris from battles all across the galaxy. So this was to be the hour.

He would be ready.

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Location: Skor -> Eriadu
Allies: [member="Aryn Teth"] [member="Mazik Stazi"] [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"] [member="Lokthra Dawning"]
Enemies: [member="Ephraim Tarkin"] [member="Giorg Montey"] [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] [member="Gromm Cardan"]

After having closed a deal with one John Locke so as to get a factory built on Skor for producing construction and maintenance droids, Cathul was ready to return to space once again. Which was more difficult after this loss in the Metharian Nebula, where the Itsukusk and the previous Supreme Commander were killed. But after hearing rumors that the Imps were on the move once again, despite all the internal problems that became evident Such an attack could only mean one thing, if confirmed: their border worlds would then be vulnerable to a Confederate attack, and they would be stretching a little thin if what she knew about the GE's current situation was correct. With those Imps, hit them hard from long range and then you close in with fighters, or microjump aft of them, she thought. But here, it was a simple matter of following the Rimma Trade Route until they reached Eriadu. Simple enough, just that they couldn't spare more than two ships for supporting the Excubitor. Carmen reprised her usual station as the captain of the Excubitor, while Tanith would now be entrusted with the defense of Skor while Cathul was away on patrol.

"We did what we could for those Squibs. Now it is time to return on our patrols of the Rimma Trade Route. Set course for Eriadu, load cluster missiles on all squadrons, laden with discord missiles as submunitions"

"Roger, roger" Carmen acknowledged, before the blue streaks of hyperspace flashed before them as they flew through the Rimma Trade Route towards Eriadu.

Spoiler: Therapy Command

Capital ships:

ANS Excubitor (Procurator-X-class Grand Battlecruiser) | Shields: 100% | Hull: 100% | Firing at: N/A
ANS Lothal (Lothal-II-class artillery carrier) | Shields: 100% | Hull: 100% | Firing at: N/A
ANS Aleen (Lothal-II-class artillery carrier) | Shields: 100% | Hull: 100% | Firing at: N/A

Attack craft:

108 Chiloon-I-class fighters
72 Chiloon-II-class fast bombers

 

[DT-2319]

DT-2319 cycled the bolt on his BR-212 rifle while listening to 7343's short briefing. The HUD in his helmet was active the whole time, synced in with the squad comms, frequencies jumping like mad and encryption sequences auto-updating before a single sentence was finished. To any outside observer, without the technology present in their helmets, all the dialogue would sound like a garbled mess, with an underlying sound of static and ominous robotic hiss. Coupled with the extremely large Death troopers themselves, it had in the past and would still prove a very intimidating combination. Just the way it had been designed to be, eight-hundred years prior. He blinked in a few commands as '43 finished talking, his suit hissing and then giving a light pop as the helmt vacuum-sealed itself. Sure, the actual air-filtration mechanisms in the helmet were still pushing through the recycled air of the shuttle's cabin, but as soon as they left it, he'd be operating on his own air supply.

"OEQIXXTNSISORXXNUS," he replied to '43. After checking over his BR-212 one last time he flicked the safety on it, ready to fire at any moment. It wouldn't be long before they were engaging the enemy, and while he was personally not fond of CQC, that was all they were likely to run into on this operation. So the BR-212 was the weapon of choice, with a simple variable 1.5x-4x scope attached. Thankfully, given that they were hopefully going to avoid having to fight through a ship's corridors and instead would just be in the relatively large and open hangar, Nineteen felt that he could live with that. Although his response to '43 had carried a slight edge to it regardless, due to the nature of combat they could expect. An edge that '43 would understand easily.

"ULCVUELMASFCIUGSDALEFOSVUTONTNONPNGIRELORPYGEMNATBOIOCTNICNGRIPNORYPLEWPNEOASTMOIPAA." He started giving '43 and '24 the pertinent information regarding his weapons and armor systems. "KG4I2NDYUIODMEATLHSISTSMGTAEHTTATBSLECRROSIFONRGIRPOENAEXIDRHAEORWYLOOOU?" Operating without a full squad as they were, the team couldn't afford any liabilities whatsoever.

[member="Corric Tassadar"] [member="Isaac Stover"]

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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The Carrion Spike, Eriadu, Seswenna Sector, The Outer Rim Territories​

Allies:[member='Mathieu Bahreiko'], [member='Mazik Stazi']​

Enemies: The Galactic Empire​

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One might have expected to find the Supreme Commander on the command deck of a Star Defender in orbit, handling the issue of this possible defector, or managing the number of patrols that had begun to move among the outlying systems to ensure no other Imperial Entanglements, or even for the man to have been at one of the numerous military bases across Eriadu's surface, coordinating efforts from the ground. Indeed, one would have almost certainly suspected that the Supreme Commander would have been among the first to be informed of the events transpiring in the orbit above his own homeworld, and, unfortunately they would have been wrong.

To say that Aryn was more or less off the grid was something of an understatement. In returning to Eriadu, Aryn had made his way immediately into the Carrion Plateau. It had been many, many years since Aryn had returned to his homeworld and even longer since he had walked among his families' lands, but recent events had pushed the Supreme Commander to return and face the family and home he had left behind so many years ago, in favour of exploring the wider galaxy. It would have been impossible for his family not to know of what had transpired since his leaving, but correspondence between them had been limited, and the return home was something Aryn greatly looked forward to.

For now however, he had instead opted to visit older memories, memories of his own harsh childhood. The Carrion had been deadly long before Aryn had ever been aware of his own force sensitivity, and it remained so still, even with a lightsaber Aryn knew better than to underestimate the creatures on the plateau, all of them were majestic, noble, and proud, and could tear him apart or break him in half with only the barest bit of effort. Yet, Aryn recalled well enough how to hold himself in such a place that he made it to the Carrion spike with little danger or incident.

He recalled weeks and months spent in the shadow of the spike, camping and surviving in the wilds in his youth and flying among the spike and the canyons around it as he grew into adulthood. They were memories of a past long forgotten, lost to time and drowned in the sea of events that had surrounded Aryn's life since he had left. Joining up with blooming rebellions, learning of his force sensitivity, becoming a Jedi and rising to the position of Supreme Commander. Aryn had never held any desire to reach such a position, at that point he figured that it must have all been the will of the force pushing him in such a direction, whether he wished to follow or otherwise. But on the other hand, he supposed he would never know, perhaps he'd just been in the right place, at the right time.

Eventually, the crackling of the comm unit on Aryn's borrowed speeder began to rouse the Jedi's attention as he sighed and took a step back from the immense Carrion Spike. Casting a glance over his shoulder to the craft, he sighed and moved over towards it. There was no signal from where he was, but it only took a brief ride of the speeder up to higher ground before he could begin to hear the numerous messages that were going across the Alliance's encrypted channel, many intended for him, searching for confirmation of orders or any more specific indication of what was going on, a question which Aryn was quite out of the loop of himself. Luckily, things were relatively easy to piece together, and before long Aryn had a clear enough explanation of what had gone on to send out a general message to some of the officers in Eriadu's own defense fleet.

Waiting for the comm to open up to Mazik and a number of other Alliance officers, Aryn cleared his throat as he took a seat upon his speeders. "For now we'll follow standard protocol when it comes to these 'defectors' - have SIS look into whether they've received transmissions from the defectors before, and ensure they remain on their ship with weapons deactivated until we decide to take a look. If they leave the ship, have an X-wing escort take them down to Carrion base planetside for processing." The orders were plain, and obvious, but they carried with them the weight and authority that Aryn was certain many of the officers had likely been waiting for. "I'll be returning to Carrion base myself shortly to oversee things from the ground, let's hope this is nothing, but after three surprise attacks already I wouldn't be surprised if this is the start of something else." He'd nod as if confirming the thought to himself. The Alliance had been caught by the sudden and surprise assaults from all the Imperial Powers before, but a trap only worked once...

 

[Coren Starchaser]

ERIADU

Aleph Squadron was making its rounds through the space around Eriadu. Its commander, a male Duros named De Raam, was leading the squadron on the standard air patrol. It wasn’t a bad job, but they were going to be needing to rotate to a combat ship soon. It was how the Alliance kept everyone on their toes as well as rested. The Duros took his lead flight group and made a move closer to the ship that was landing in Eriadu.

Was that incoming trajectory First Order space? He shook his head and pulled the E-Wings in closer. “This is Aleph Commander. Deploying first squadron to keep an eye on this new vessel. Can we get a call as to where they came form?” The E-Wings continued their circle around the new vessel, and De Raam was watching the engines. “If it moves, I don’t want this thing closer to our fleet than it has to be, unless we get a call to stand down, keep ready, flight.” He ordered to his wingmates.

[member="Aryn Teth"] [member="Mazik Stazi"] [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"]

SULLUST
Elsewhere, Fallaxia was taking the Spear of the Alliance through some motions. The ship was on shake down again, from another border patrol. Waiting for a war was a bit more of a pain than it was worth sometimes. The Vaemath and her crew were making their way back towards Sullust, rearming, swapping pilots in and out, and picking up the ship’s Commander, Coren Starchaser. When the Jedi had stepped aboard, the Vaemath had greeted her longtime companion with a salute and quick brief. “Seems some ship had come out of the First Order space into Eriadu. Haven’t been ordered to deploy yet, but the group is making preparations. The Tiburons are with us, and we have one of the new Rogues aboard. May need to delay his trip to his posting.”

“Good, we can use Rogue Squadron for something like this. If the First Order really is jumping at us? We’ll need to hit them back as hard as we can. Prepare an E-Wing for me, just in case we need it. I’ll meet you on the bridge?” He stated to the Vaemath as he took the look at the ship. Porter, his faithful astromech was following the Jedi Master as Coren dismissed his ship captain.

“Word is we have a Rogue on board, Porter. Lets go greet them?” He grinned as he approached the fighter pool. His own E-Wing, one of the new Stealth E-Wings was being fueled and prepped. And that is when he noticed the pilot who had to be the new recruit for Rogue Squadron. He looked down at the datapad again.

“Flight Officer Vas, is it? Welcome to the Spear. We’ll be getting you to your new posting soon, is the hope.” He wasn’t going to let the kid know about the trouble going on nearby. Why were the First Order coming so close to Sullust? How were they getting past the initial systems? Not his problem.

[member="Tristram Vos"]

 

[Isaac Stover]

The familar clicks, snaps, hisses, and beeps of a pre-operation equipment check filled Isaac's ears as he blink-clicked through his suit's diagnostic checks. Green lights appearing across the board caused a small smile to appear behind his faceplate, and he turned to face 43 as the briefing began. Plan was fairly straightforward, although Isaac couldn't quite say he was looking forward to his part in it. As the briefing was concluded, Isaac shook his head.

"NIGDRSOAUNRNFEEOWRSRTTTANNLFAICCSHKEOHGNETISEFBTHPREPAOHXAXCAGOLOLDMEOYN."

Isaac stepped over to the large item occupying the majority of the tfoop bay, giving it a quick once over to ensure its safeties were still engaged and the components were secure. Satisfied they were, he'd gone back to secure his own bag of gifts when 19's question drew his attention. Pausing, he looked over at his squad mate.

"SDDEIIRFHEIIIUDWLONEETHBAT9D1NOORFUC." Isaac's hand subconsciously ran across his abdominal plate, his mind flashing back to the squad's previous operation. What the other two didn't know was that it wasn't a bolt from an enemy repeater that had gouged out a chunk of his armor and killed their squadmate like he had reported. It'd been shrapnel from a mine he'd placed being set off by that squadmate's idiocy. He'd reported otherwise to save the dignity of himself and the late DT-1967. Pushing the memories out of his mind, he returned his attention to the task at hand and opened the bag he'd prepped, checking the condition of the "gifts" inside. Satisfied with what he saw, he steadied sealed the bag and slung it over his shoulder, ensuring it wouldn't obstruct the maneuvering pack bolted to his backplate.

"RPSEARPRFEVRLEDEEPARANEDDODYIYRXSXIOGFUIRT."

[member="Corric Tassadar"] , [member="DT-2319"]

 

[Seto du Couteau]

Allies: The Empire
Enemies: The Alliance

New clothing was nothing unusual for the young Du Couteau but the influx of armor and plasteel plating with his new clothing was not exactly siting well with him. Seto marched down the corridor, his gloved hands smoothing out his clothes once again as he also checked for his lightsaber. The weapon was new and foreign, while it operated just as his old one, the grip and color were different. Honestly I'm just thankful I still have my old one Seto mused as he sensed his old lightsaber attached to his back's lower plate armor.

White Armored Troops marched along, officers and droids moved about as Seto continued his walk. Inquisitor or not, Seto felt a bit irked by being called an Initiate. Of course there was a lot more to his new Order than just Force and Saber training regardless Seto felt annoyed to say the least. Honestly why I bothered to join another Order instead of staying a Doctor Seto thought wearily. Even so Seto still felt at ease, his connection to the Force and the somewhat extra freedoms allowed among the Inquisitors quelled most of the Young Du Couteau's bitterness.

The focused minds all around Seto brought him back to the present, a battle was soon commence and once more he needed to prove himself worthy of being an Inquisitor Initiate and as well present a case to be a fully fledged Inquisitor for the Empire. Gloved hands slowly clenched into fists, a frown tugging the corners of his lips as he focused.

 

[Giorg Montey]

Hyperspace
Seventh Fleet
INV Dauntless

Montey stood with his feet apart, arms behind his back, gazing at the wondrous view that was hyperspace. Streams of white light encircled the bridge's viewport, like some sort of tunnel to an alternate dimension. It was fascinating every time he saw it, no matter how many times he saw it. Montey turned to his executive officer, busy checking over datawork on the console in front of him. Montey smirked, and asked, "Which form are you working on currently?" Keuar didn't look up from his work, but still replied, "Form GRE-383-823-T." Montey racked his mind for a good minute before giving in, "It seems I've forgotten that one, would you care to remind me?" Keuar made a gesture of not minding, "No worries, GRE-383-823-T concerns confirmation of non-classified material delivered. You know, family letters, entertainment literature, etcetera. We got a shipment during our refuel at Mustafar, just getting some of the datawork out of the way to keep my nerves down. Besides, once this battle is over we'll have enough datawork to submit to drown a Bantha."

Montey chuckled at that piece of humor, it was funny because it was true. The unseen side of the Imperial military, was the sheer amount of bureaucracy and datawork that took place behind the scenes. The recruiting commercials and patriot films portrayed Imperial sailors, soldiers, and officers as fighting the courageous fight across the galaxy, but they didn't show all the datawork that each and every member of the Imperial military had to do.

The commanding officer took a deep breath, and began to speak his mind, "You ever heard those rumors about Alliance commanders?" That perked Keuar's interest, "Which?" Montey grinned, "You know, the ones about them leading their troops in battle, head on. Like Jedi or Mandalorians." Keuar looked up from his console and crossed his arms, "What?" Montey's grin grew larger, "I heard, that Alliance generals and admirals, lead their troops into battle at the front, right in the mix of it. Hop into their starfighters and fight at the thick of it." Montey's smile was infectious, "Impossible, how could the Alliance let their senior brass do such idiotic things. Who would be commanding their fleets and armies if they are off galavanting on the front lines." Montey shook his head, "Hey, hey, its just a rumor. But I've also heard many of their senior ranks are polluted with the like of the Jedi and other force wielding magicians." Keuar pointed at Montey jokingly, "Now I know what you are saying is total feth. Not only is the Galactic Alliance military puppeted by the Jedi, but they also go headlong into battle, ignoring their command duties? No, impossible." Montey couldn't help from letting out a laugh, "Is it a surprise to you that the theocratic military junta is run by theocratic military leaders?" Keuar bore his teeth, "Oh the things you learn on these long voyages."

[member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Ephraim Tarkin"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"]

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

ERIADU TRADE STATION

---

---

---

"Petrovsky, see to it that we've made good on the contact that Miss Brentioch gave us," Fiolette said, as she walked the corridors of the station, "there is no doubt in my mind that they'll do something after all the First Order isn't above using children to gain compliance." A [member="Kalad Shysa"] was a contact that was provided by Miss Brentioch when the former grand admiral's daughter made mention that whatever it was that the woman was up to, had placed her younger daughters at risk. Not that she didn't trust her niece but she knew her niece would follow the law to the letter and do everything in her power to protect it. Even if it meant the sacrifice of her own relatives.

Petrovsky only nodded, "yes ma'am, the information has been sent to Shysa - we'll have a response soon."

"Good, now let's move up the next appointment with [member="Aver Brand"]." The two walked around the trade station as part of a layover between the Outer Rim Territory and Brentaal IV, the woman had no idea what would happen in the next twenty-four hours. She had enough fires to put out, "and let's rearrange the one with Miss Perl. I'll need to ask her for specifics on one of the medical ships she requested."

"Of course, oh and ma'am when did you want to set up your next meeting with Captain Merrill?"

"I don't, I'll find him - he knows that in the meantime can you put me in contact with whoever was responsible for the raid on Kilaado?"

He nodded again and stopped a moment to make a few notes on his own datapad, "of course ma'am."

"Ah here we go," she motioned to the lift, "see it seems Alliance engineering isn't so terrible after all."

The two approached the suite since the layover would be at least a day or two while the Fleetwood was serviced and fueled up for the next part of her journey. Dansen vom Autieg her personal droid greeted the two of them. "Madam you have a message from someone in the Alliance, though they would not say who, and secondly there is another person requesting your personal attention." And at the time, Fiolette had no idea that it would be Vice Admiral Zahori Denko of the Sith Empire, formerly of the CIS.

She paused a moment, "huh... Well, the Netherworld had better spit out Darth Revan himself, then I'll consider a meeting with the Galactic Alliance."

Just because she had left the First Order didn't mean that she had suddenly forgiven them for their intrusion, their invasion of Anoat and more importantly attacking her prized space station the FIS Kuragin. It would be a cold day until then Fiolette thought to herself as she approached the bar and fixed for herself a double shot of Corellian Whiskey. It was while she was getting ready to sit down and relax that she heard the alarms. "Kark," the former grand admiral muttered and rolled her eyes, "please walk this way into the slaughter pens, we promise we'll protect you," her glib tone was obvious, "oh yes quite, like how you protected yourself just recently? Oh well, my heroes, allow me too-"

There was a knock.

"Kark off, if I die at least I'll die in bloody peace."

[member="Mathieu Bahreiko"]

 

[Mav Halo]

There was an hour or so delay after the original message before a dry response would ping on to Petrovsky's datapad. A series of accounts were provided in addition to the message, along with a set of instructions as the the amount that would be expected.

>> [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]
>> RE: Galidraan Flower Arrangement

Dear Mrs F. Yvarro,

We do not normally accept third party referrals, but as we share several mutual acquaintances willing to vouch for your credibility,
we are willing to make an exception in this rare case.

The terms laid out in your initial missive have been found to be agreeable. Your desired flower arrangements, while tricky to obtain,
should be achievable within the limited time frame you have specified. In order to finalise your order, please transfer the necessary
retainer into the account provided within the next Coruscanti solar hour.

Further funds will be expected upon successful delivery of your selected bouquets. Additional charges may be incurred dependent on the
challenges faced in acquiring the necessary materials for your arrangement.

Once accepted, estimated completion of your intended arrangements will be within the next four Coruscanti solar days.

Please note, prompt payments will help ensure the overall condition of your arrangements upon delivery.

We thank you for your order and look forward to doing further business with you in the future.

--- Natural Fleurtations, Registered Florists, Concord Dawn.

 

[Tristram Vos]

Tristram was lounging in the fighter pool, chewing on a ration bar when he heard his name. He hopped up, snatching the foodstuff out of his mouth and snapping to attention.

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. I'm, uh... I'm excited to group up with the rest of my squadron. Of course, I'm at your disposal until then."

He looks around, taking stock of the goings on around him.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, what exactly are you all preparing for?"