Private From Certainty to Doubt, From Devotion to Rebellion

[Thel Kaan]

The Chryya System.

Sitting at the crossroads of the Rimma Trade Route and the Hydian Way, it was a lifeline for freight moving across the galaxy. Minerals, weaponry, and starships flowed through its hyperspace lanes in a constant stream, making it one of the primary entry points into Sith Order territory. This system was a critical artery feeding the Sith war machine that ravaged the Mid-Rim. Disrupting it could deal a significant blow to their operations.

Hidden among the jagged rocks of a dense asteroid belt, a rebel cell waited in ambush. The Militant Front's force was as diverse as it was desperate: squadrons of fighters, bombers, and interceptors, each a patchwork of mismatched parts. Their ships varied wildly in origin, manufacturer, and condition, united only by necessity. Hyperdrives had been jury-rigged into fighters that had no business having them. Shield generators were salvaged and hastily installed, and weapon systems were cobbled together from spare parts.

The chaotic array of ships was a dead giveaway of their rebel nature—organized military fleets had the luxury of uniformity. The Militants, however, made do with what they had, and today, their motley fleet was poised to strike a blow against the Sith Order.

Their opportunity had come in the form of leaked intelligence: a high-value Sith supply convoy was scheduled to pass through the system within hours. This convoy wasn't just another shipment. It was laden with weaponry, supplies, and military-grade components critical to the Sith war effort. While it would have an escort, the Sith's stretched forces meant the convoy's security relied heavily on stealth and secrecy. If the Militants could take out the escort, the convoy's freighters would be theirs for the taking.

But the rebels knew they couldn't risk this mission alone. Their fleet, already battered from recent defeats, needed reinforcements should things take a turn for the worse. For this reason, they had enlisted the help of a mercenary pilot. Not much was known about her, other than her name— Delila Castillon —and her reputation as a skilled fighter. She would be bringing her own ship to the fight. Thel, the rebel commander, had his reservations about trusting an outsider, but the promise of extra firepower outweighed his doubts.

Aboard their command vessel, a converted transport ship, tension hung thick in the air. The dim glow of holodisplays cast blue light across the cabin, where the rebels prepared for battle. Thel stood at the center, his piercing eyes locked onto a screen that displayed continuous scans of the system.

"How long until we can expect that Sith convoy?" he barked, his voice cutting through the silence.

"Should be here within the hour," a crewmate replied, though there was an edge of uncertainty in their tone.

Thel's jaw tightened. "If this intel isn't accurate, that chitbag on Sullust is going to regret it. And where in hell is that mercenary? We paid a fortune for her, credits we can't afford to lose if this plan goes south."

Before anyone could respond, a console lit up with an incoming signal.

"Boss, we've got an incoming transmission," one of the crew called out. "Could be the merc."

Thel's eyes narrowed as he moved toward the console, his mind racing. He only hoped Delila was as good as the whispers claimed. This mission was already a gamble; it didn't need more uncertainty.

​

 

[Delila Castillon]

The problem with taking the job? She was a soldier. Ground pounder. Liked to have her feet firmly on the ground. However, this required a vessel. To be fair, when she first took the job she had thought it was on the ground. However she had the Solitude - but it was a small, rusty little vessel with exactly two guns. It was going to have to do, she needed the credits and she had already accepted the assignment. Delila didn't consider herself that well known but reputation was a hell of a thing. What little folks did know of her she needed to keep positive. Being on her own meant ensuring enough credits coming in was critical.

So she was facing down the fact facing it til she made it. Or crashed and burned, considering her subpar piloting skills.

Coming out of hyperspace, Delila immediately commed the larger vessel, reaching out to what she assumed was her contact - Thel Kaan .Only over the comms they weren't using real names. It was too dangerous to just broadcast business out in the black, that she had learned from her recent years of travelling the space lanes.

"Celestial Princess this is Vicissitude. I think I have some cargo you've been waiting on. Apologies for the delay, not a fan of navigating asteroids."

 

[Thel Kaan]

The arrival of a ship from hyperspace momentarily stirred further unease within the Militant forces. Those commanding starships immediately readied their targeting systems, wary of an unexpected confrontation. In these lawless battles, uncertainty was often fatal. Fortunately, these fears were quelled as the newcomer transmitted an identification code, followed by an open commlink to the rebel fleet.

Grabbing a headset from one of the control panels, Thel issued his response, his voice steady but firm.

"Copy that, Vicissitude. Cargo transfer will be on hold until our transport ship enters the system. Should be here within the hour—feel free to make yourself comfy."

There was little time for pleasantries. The Militant Front had positioned its forces strategically throughout the asteroid belt, lying in wait for their prey. The moment the Sith fleet exited hyperspace, they would know. Though some units were scattered, the main bulk of the rebel fleet remained centered around Thel's command ship. From here, he would oversee the operation, ensuring that the Sith Order was subjected once more to the hit-and-run tactics that had earned the Militants their growing infamy.

As the minutes dragged on, the tension grew thick. Pilots busied themselves with last-minute system diagnostics. Some did so out of necessity, ensuring that their battered ships could endure another fight. Others did it as a distraction, a way to keep their hands from shaking, their minds from dwelling on the reality that some among them would not return. But that was the price of war, and they had all long accepted it. They did not fight for credits or for glory. They fought for freedom. And that, for them, was a cause worthy of dying for.

Then, the moment came.

Sensor readings spiked as ships exited hyperspace—right on schedule. The Sith convoy had arrived.

The enemy formation was as expected: a freighter at its center, flanked by an escort of fighters, two small corvettes, and—most concerningly—a cruiser. The freighter was their prize. If intelligence was correct, its cargo could sustain the Militant Front's war effort for months, allowing them to keep up the fight against the Sith. The risk was immense, but so was the reward.

The plan was already set. No further commands were necessary. Within moments, squadrons of rebel ships surged forward, diving toward their targets.

The bombers made a beeline for the freighter and the Sith cruiser, targeting their engines to limit maneuverability. Fighter squadrons provided escort, engaging enemy ships before they could disrupt the bombing runs. Meanwhile, the Militant interceptors broke off, hunting down the Sith fighter squadrons to prevent them from overwhelming the battlefield.

"Vicissitude," Thel transmitted, keying into the mercenary's channel, "we are focusing our efforts on the freighter. Disable the shields and then prepare for boarding action. Be careful—watch your back. I've assigned Crimson-Wing squadron to assist you if necessary."

He allowed himself a brief smirk, despite the tension.

"Happy hunting."

Delila Castillon ​

​

 

[Delila Castillon]

Waiting? That was a first. Drifting along in an asteroid field hadn't been her idea of waiting in comfort. Yet there was no choice. Instead she darkened the cockpit, trying to bring her nerves down. Wasn't the boarding, that she was looking forward to. It was the fact she would have to pilot through an asteroid field and actually make it to the boarding party. Now that was going to be the miracle.

Yet the moment was here. Her comm crackled as the other freighters came out of hyperspace.

"Confirmed Celestial Princess."

As for the Crimson Wing squadron, Delila thought if this squadron was so impressive perhaps she could use them to her advantage. If they were to watch her six then maybe something could be accomplished. If she had an actual 'professional' set of pilots to back her up then maybe her chances of survival just went up to slim-to-none.

"Crimson-Wing, follow me. Watch my back, I'll focus on the shields if you can keep me from getting blown to bits..."

Thel Kaan

 

[Thel Kaan]

The rebel force descended onto the freighter like locusts swarming an unsuspecting wheat field. Weaving between the jagged asteroid debris provided ample cover against the Sith defensive fire, their turbolaser blasts flashing through space with deadly precision. Yet, this maneuver carried risks of its own—one miscalculated turn, one moment of hesitation, and a starfighter would be reduced to nothing but dust and shrapnel.

Now, the Militant Front was within striking distance of the freighter. So close, in fact, that the Sith cruiser couldn't bring its heavy guns to bear without the risk of friendly fire. The rebels exploited this, pressing their assault. Bombers unleashed a relentless barrage of ion torpedoes, their explosions rippling against the freighter's shields. Any Sith starfighter deployed to counter them was immediately swarmed, outnumbered three to one. The Militants did not fight with honour, nor did they abide by any established rules of engagement. They fought to win, and if that meant ganging up on their enemies or blasting escape pods out of the void, so be it.

The freighter's shields flared a brilliant blue before collapsing entirely, a clear sign that the generators had overloaded under the sustained assault. Now came the real fight.

"Shieldin' is down!" Thel's voice crackled over the commlink. "Target the hangar shield gens. Crimson and Forest squadrons, prepare for boarding."

The next attack run struck the freighter's hangar with pinpoint precision. The shield generators failed, and in an instant, the shimmering blue barrier flickered out of existence. Anything unsecured—cargo crates, stray equipment, and unlucky crew members—was sucked into the cold abyss of space. Then, as the vacuum alarms blared across the Sith vessel, Thel's transport ship powered forward, slipping into the hangar unopposed.

As the transport touched down, Thel received a quick casualty report—Crimson and Forest squadrons had suffered heavy losses. His forces were bloodied, but still intact. For a fleeting moment, he wondered how the mercenary, Delila Castillon , had fared in the chaos. He'd find out soon enough.

He turned to the soldiers in the dimly lit troop bay, his voice sharp with urgency. "Gear up and get ready!" He slung his disruptor rifle over his shoulder, checking its charge before continuing. "Anybody on the freighter can be considered hostile. Do not hesitate to kill them—they sure as hell won't hesitate to kill you. We fight our way to the bridge, and then we jump out of this system. Understood?"

A chorus of acknowledgments followed.

Despite being a freighter, resistance was inevitable. This ship belonged to the Sith Order, and even cargo haulers in their ranks were armed and trained. But Thel had no doubt—the Militants could handle it.

The transport doors hissed open, and blinding artificial lights flooded the dark troop bay. The rebels squinted against the sudden change, but the momentary disorientation was replaced with something far more pressing—blaster fire.

Sith security forces had taken up defensive positions, laying down suppressive fire the moment the doors parted. Crimson-red bolts crisscrossed the hangar, slamming into the hull of the transport and the crates littering the landing area.

One by one, the rebels disembarked, diving behind cargo stacks for cover before returning fire. Thel was the last to step onto the battlefield, his disruptor rifle humming as he took aim.

The firefight escalated quickly. With every passing minute, more Sith troops poured into the hangar, their superior numbers and heavier weaponry shifting the battle in their favor. They had the advantage—better cover, better weapons, and better training. But Thel had planned for this.

He tapped his commlink and shouted over the chaos, "Get ready… Now!"

At his command, the transport's turbolasers roared to life.

The ship's heavy cannons swept across the hangar, scorching through metal and flesh alike. The Sith garrison, focused entirely on the rebel infantry, had no time to react before the plasma beams ripped through their ranks. The reinforced blast doors at the far end of the hangar buckled under the onslaught, sparks and debris raining down as the Sith defenses crumbled.

For the first time since landing, Thel grinned.

The tide of battle had turned.

​

​

 

[Delila Castillon]

Delila had white knuckled the entire space battle. She had used the Crimson-Wing squadron to her advantage the entire time. They had quickly devised a plan where her vessel was the 'head' of the spear and they fell in line behind her. She had been able to scan for threats and focus her fire on the shield generators while the entire Crimson-Wing worked in tandem to protect everyone. Not the best of plans but they had only lost three in Crimson-Wing, which she personally found better than expected.

A relief when the time to board came. Finally.

"Preparing for boarding."

Her shuttle glided into the hangar, ready for her to roll out. The redhead had already placed on her blast vest under her shirt, a backup heavy blaster was on her hip, and a heavy blaster rifle was grabbed on her way down the ramp. Tucked in her holster and in a pocket or two were a few grenades, designed to be used sparingly given the close quarters and the fact they were in space. An emergency backup if there ever was one.

She understood the assignment well, taking cover behind a cargo crate and laying suppression fire before the big reveal came. The plasma beam had wiped out the first wave of Sith resistance. Perfect.

"Advance!"

Metal had turned molten. The sickly smell of burned flesh. Yet this was the perfect time to move while the enemy was stunned and distracted. They needed to push deep into the ship and as quick as possible. The redhead was aware of death, not wanting to lose any fellow mercs on her watch. Especially against a freighter crew.

She pointed to two young mercs on her way forward.

"Begin Operation Sewer Rat."

Some of them, the skinnier younger ones, would advance through the ventilation shafts and relay back crew positions, giving them a potential leg up.


Thel Kaan

 

[Thel Kaan]

The rebel force began spreading throughout the ship from their beachhead in the freight hangar. Amid the chaos, Thel spotted an unfamiliar figure moving with Crimson Squad—fast, precise, and utterly unshaken by the surrounding firefight. It didn't take long for him to realize this must be their hired muscle.

As they pushed forward, Thel took cover beside the red-headed mercenary, pressing his back against the outcrop of a doorway as blasterfire tore through the corridor.

"I'm glad to see you and Crimson made it to the party," he called over the noise, keeping his disruptor rifle raised.

"The name's Thel," he continued, reloading his own weapon. "I run this group, and I guess that makes me your employer for now."

Thel took a moment to watch her work. She wasn't just fighting—she was commanding. Rebels naturally fell into step behind her, following her lead as if she'd been with them for years. It was rare to see a mercenary with that kind of presence. Thel had hired fighters before, but few who could actually rally soldiers in the middle of a warzone.

Most of the fighters drawn to the Militant Front were civilians, victims of the Sith war machine who had been forced into battle with little more than stolen weapons and raw determination. They fought not for credits or glory, but for revenge, for freedom—causes that burned hot but didn't make up for their lack of experience. Their passion made them dangerous, but their inexperience made them reckless. Thel had seen more than one fighter die because they didn't know when to take cover or when to hold their fire.

It was a relief, then, to have someone like Delila—someone who clearly knew what she was doing.

"Red, you and Crimson stick with me," Thel ordered. "We're pushing to the bridge. Every motherfecker with a blaster is gonna try and stop us, so don't expect an easy ride."

They advanced, but just as they rounded a bend in the corridor, the enemy had already dug in. A mounted heavy repeater sat in the centre of a chokepoint, its operator opening fire the moment the first rebel unknowingly stepped into the kill zone. A torrent of red plasma cut through the squad, tearing them apart before they had a chance to react.

"Chit!" Thel swore, yanking back behind cover as the deafening barrage filled the corridor. "We can't take that thing head-on. Any ideas?"

Delila Castillon

​

 

[Delila Castillon]

"You got it Boss."

Not in charge suited her just fine. She had spent ages in command dealing with the fallout of when plans went awry. Naturally she would step up and ensure the team was functioning well, that no one person would be left behind in the fray. For the most part, the other mercenaries had fallen into step behind her, listening to her orders, and trying not to get killed. Not having more blood on her hands as a result of her actions, of her orders, was always the goal in these situations.

Barrage filled the corridor, pressing their team against any piece of cover they could find. The ship's crew was firing rapidly, to the point where they couldn't get a movement in if they wanted to. Feeling up her gun belt, she found what she was looking for, one of the whistling bird grenades. The most important aspect ; fifty heat seeking charges would find any target and explode.

"We can't take that thing head-on. Any ideas?"

"Hold on."

Comm was activated, speaking to the two she had sent up the ventilation shaft.

"You two copy? Get on the other side of that barrage and create a small distraction - drop a boot or something - and brace for an explosion."

Delila prepared the whistling bird to be thrown, waiting for the comm to static back as a signal. The barrage continued until it suddenly slowed, the distraction must be in place. The comm clicked twice, her signal. Thats when she leaned out from her pillar and threw the whistling bird with all her might, now all they had to do was wait four seconds.

......4.....3.....2....1....

Thel Kaan​

 

[Thel Kaan]

Whilst most of the Militants cowered from the unrelenting hail of red plasma peppering the corridors, Delila dealt with the problem in short order. The last sound the gunners heard was the faint whistle of incoming death—seconds before they were consumed by a cascade of detonations. Fifty miniature payloads struck true, and soon after, a secondary explosion sent shrapnel and smoke billowing through the corridor as the power cell of the heavy repeater burst.

Then… nothing.

Absolute silence.

For a moment, the surviving Militants just stared, dumbfounded. Most had never seen Whistling Birds in action before, let alone up close. The devastation left in their wake was enough to convince some that they had just witnessed the work of a Jedi Master.

Thel exhaled, a grin curling at the edge of his lips. "You got some moves, Red. I'll give you that."

Stepping out from cover, he led the group forward. The corridor ahead was scorched black from the blasts, the remains of the Sith gunners charred beyond recognition. Stepping over a smoldering corpse, Thel muttered under his breath, "Money well spent."

They pushed on. The closer they got to the bridge, the more desperate the resistance became. Sith crew members and garrison troops threw themselves into the fight, often in reckless, suicidal charges—anything to slow the advancing rebels. Thel had expected no less. These men weren't going to surrender. That was fine. He wasn't planning on taking prisoners.

As he rounded a corner, a sudden blur of movement lunged at him. A crewman, wielding a vibro-blade, aimed straight for his throat. Thel twisted just in time—the blade narrowly missed and the attacker stumbled past, losing his footing. Before he could recover, the hum of Thel's disruptor rifle filled the corridor.

A single bolt struck the man in the torso. He barely had time to scream before his body began to unravel, molecule by molecule, dissolving into nothing.

The disintegration wasn't even complete before Thel turned away and kept moving.

Delila Castillon​

​

 

[Delila Castillon]

"Be lucky I scavenged those. Can be difficult to find."

Apparently small-arms makers made some since she was unsure if the company was even still in business. She personally picked them up on less-than-legal means, which was fine as well. Having only used them once it was great to see the whistle grenade actually work the way it was intended. Walking through the aftermath, Dells noted to find more, it had certainly saved their skins.

Commotion suddenly in the hall, an attack on their leader Thel Kaan , a wild vibroblade wielding crewmember. Before she could react, a single bolt rang out, beginning its work.

A single bolt struck the man in the torso. He barely had time to scream before his body began to unravel, molecule by molecule, dissolving into nothing.

Delila blinked. She had never seen a disintegration shot or missile in action. Always heard about them. Never actually encountered them and at her age, it was a great surprised to even see such a thing. Head was turned looking as the bottom half of the crew guard was disappearing before she caught her bearings and quickly started to pay attention, the distant sound of blaster bolts reaching her ears.

Suddenly, the crackling of her comm. The Sewer Rats checking.

"...we've reached the control room. Its sealed off. Roughly fifteen crew inside. Guards outside the door. You should be getting closer, we're standing by to assist..."

 

[Thel Kaan]

"...we've reached the control room. Its sealed off. Roughly fifteen crew inside. Guards outside the door. You should be getting closer, we're standing by to assist..."

Thel's own commlink buzzed to life with the transmission between Delila Castillon and the rebels in the air vents. Fifteen crew on the bridge—likely a mix of pilots, navigators, and other non-combat personnel. Civilians, technically. But with their backs against the wall, anybody could be dangerous. For now, though, the bigger problem lay just outside the bridge doors.

Navigating the corridors at the front of the pack, Thel moved with heightened caution. He checked every doorway, peered around every corner, ensuring no one got the jump on him again. The last thing he needed was another surprise attack.

As he rounded a sharp bend, his eyes locked onto the defenders ahead. A contingent of heavily armed and armored guards stood in disciplined formation outside the blast doors leading to the bridge. These weren't the standard security teams they'd been cutting through before. No, these were something else—well-trained, well-positioned, and well-equipped.

Thel didn't know it yet, but these were elite Sith Troopers, stationed here for one purpose: to protect the most valuable military cargo aboard this vessel.

He acted fast. Raising his disruptor rifle, he primed a shot and leaned out, hoping to land an opening hit.

The troopers reacted faster.

A burst of precise blaster fire snapped through the corridor. Thel barely had time to register the shots before two seared past his head, missing by centimeters. The third struck home—slamming into the front of his shoulder.

His armorweave cloak absorbed most of the energy, preventing serious injury, but the impact still sent a searing heat through his skin. He flinched involuntarily, his aim thrown off, and his disruptor bolt fired harmlessly into the floor.

"Chit!" he spat, ducking back behind cover, heart pounding.

They needed another approach. Charging in wasn't an option.

He exhaled sharply, flexing his arm to make sure he could still move it. Then, glancing toward Delila, he asked, "Don't suppose you've got more of those grenades on you?"

​

 

[Delila Castillon]

Delila didn't expect to encounter such elite troopers on board. By all accounts she had heard that the vessel was decently armed but not by anyone who had real training. These types were trained in combat. Relentless. Never had encountered them however, just stories here and there from others. Spacers who had told tales when they were hot-shot pilots themselves.

Precise shots began to ring out in the corridor. Herself and Thel Kaan scrambled for cover, along with the rest of their soldiers. One wasn't quite so lucky, getting fatally struck and falling while trying to scramble for cover.

The sewer rats couldn't help them now. This was too much all at once. It was going to take some heavy hitting action in order to break free. The troopers knew the vessel better than they did. That was a problem, they couldn't hide and regroup. They would have to dig in and entrench at this very spot.

He exhaled sharply, flexing his arm to make sure he could still move it. Then, glancing toward Delila, he asked, "Don't suppose you've got more of those grenades on you?"

"I have two more." Delila tossed one to Thel, the other in her hand. "Let's do it together."

 

[Thel Kaan]

Two grenades left.

Ordinarily, that would've been plenty. But against Sith Troopers? Armoured head to toe, disciplined, dug in? Thel wasn't so sure. The thought gnawed at him, but they didn't have the luxury of time—or options. This was their shot.

He caught the grenade Delila Castillon tossed him. It felt heavier than expected. Alien, too. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but most weapons in the galaxy were designed with simplicity in mind. Press the ignition, throw it far, hope it kills someone.

"Alright, Red," he said, tossing her a glance, "you take the lead on this one."

If the explosives didn't do the job, he still had his disruptor rifle. No matter how thick that armour was, it wouldn't mean squat if he got a clean hit. Disruptors didn't just kill—they erased.

Before they could move, his commlink flared to life.

"Boss, we've secured the armoury and dealt with the rest of the crew. Headin' your way now to assist."

A welcome voice. Reinforcements meant they didn't have to win this through sheer force of luck—they could lean on numbers if it came to it.

Thel looked to Delila, gave a slight nod. "Let's make some noise."

​