Fury Road (ORC Dominion of Hex I-50)

[Zak Amroth]

​

The Outer Rim burns.​

​

Snuffed out like guttering candles, one by one the unstoppable war machine of the Sharukan Empire conquers systems across the western territories. First Thral and Won Shasot, then on to worlds like Kinooine, Saijo, and Jelucan. Growing instability on Terminus has driven millions to flee along with refugees from fallen stars east into the Kathol Outback. Normally empty void is now teeming with life, each backwater route between systems crowded with mostly defenseless patchwork convoys.​

​

Many have heard rumors of sanctuary in the Polis Massa system, desperate enough to risk a direct route through the unstable and tumultuous Briar Nebula. Known for claiming unwary wanderers even in peaceful times, the Nebula is rife with interference laden distress calls from transports who have drifted too far off the beaten path of nav point beacons powerful enough to penetrate such dense sensor disruption. Drawn in by a veritable bounty of helpless targets, pirates begin to circle like scavengers.​

​

For now the nebula's western edge is still patrolled by All Flags starfighters, but unless they can ensure no Sharukan scout survives it is only a matter of time before their warfleet arrives to overtake convoys of innocent civilians. Among one such convoy is a luxury passenger liner, the Astral Astoria. Unbeknownst to its crew or passengers, the transport has been infiltrated by an old enemy seeking to take advantage of all this unrest to make a statement.​

---

"Coalition Deputy! Reach for the sky!"

"Surrender and we will show you the mercy of the grave," the lead ebon cowled figure rasped from behind cover, "Your Coalition crumbles to dust, the Black Rose will bloom once more in its ashes."

A flurry of repeater fire scorched the bulkhead which separated the cultists from the Astoria's bridge, sending Zak huddling back in the nook he was using as cover. Blind firing his hand cannon on its stun setting around the corner, he glanced over to one of the lone surviving security officers on board.

"What the kark is a Black Rose?"


Objectives

• Search and Rescue: The Briar Nebula is a dangerous region of space and very easy to get lost in. Track down any fleeing refugees and assist with repairs or evacuate them to safety.
• Pirate Strikes: There are refugee convoys throughout the nebula, and although transmissions are hazy scattered reports of pirate groups ambushing entire flotillas at various points along the path. Escort a convoy safely across or seek out the source of the distress calls.
• Black Rose on the Red Eye: A group of Black Rose sleeper agents have been activated aboard the passenger liner Astral Astoria. The cultists seek to take advantage of the unrest to seize the civilian transport for their own nefarious aims. Take matters into your own hands as a passenger or breach the airlock as part of a tactical response team.
• Hunt the Hunters: Patrol the nebula's edge for any signs of Sharukan scout fighters. If the Empire detects a mass exodus in this region, there is nothing to stop them from rounding up each convoy for internment in their reeducation camps.
• BYOO

 

[Cuan Kunn]

The team was called and Cuan was, of course, answering. Rogue Squadron was starting to reform, to rebuild their ranks and he was following [member="Rayf Vigil"] ‘s call to arms. The Sullustan had transferred his fighter back from the trip out to Sullust to D’Qar and was soon brought aboard the Alliance Core Fleet again. And today? Today the Rogues were stretching their wings again. He knew that Rayf was ready, but he wasn’t completely sure the whole squadron was going to be joining up today.

What he knew was that they Outer Rim Coalition was patrolling a region of space, a sector with more strategic value as a staging area and transit space than it was for settling. Long range, and advanced scans of the region was still downloading data for whether there were any useful worlds nearby. It didn’t make a difference to Cuan. The Rogues were launching from one of the quick deployment carriers within the Core Fleet and a short microjump ahead of the larger vessels put them within the region.

“This is Kunn, scanners are picking up the refugees convoys, and nothing in the immediate space. Did we get here ---” That was when his astromech gave the warning. Incoming scout.

“Tally, bogey sighted. Setting S-Foils in attack, engines to the firewall.” Cuan offered as his fighter leapt forward, his wingman keeping with him. If there was a scout, they were going to need to get rid of them quickly.

[member="Frielle Kinniak"]

 

[Kalen Genet]

Well, after the fiasco on Saijo, Kalen hadn't been particularly optimistic on the probability of his getting rid of the power cells he'd been hired to transport. He always had the worst luck—losing shipments, his ship suddenly refusing to function while out in the middle of deep space, or running into the middle of an active warzone when he was trying to just make a delivery. It looked like it would be another case of lost money, at least until he could find a buyer.

Thankfully, he didn't have to look long; the ORC was happy to buy them off of him and put them to use powering whatever they needed to power. Given that they were the ones dealing with fighting a war, he was also happy to give them a slight discount on them. Not enough to eat into his profits, of course, but he still had a heart. He wouldn't overcharge them like he would the normal criminal scum he had to deal with.

Of course, after they got loaded off of his ship and into the cargo space of the passenger liner he was riding along on, his bad luck had to strike again. Alarm klaxons began blaring throughout the passenger liner—even in the hangar!—and before Kalen could manage to take off and burn out of there, his docking ramp controls were overridden and some crazed-looking fools started walking onboard.

"Surrender your ship to us, smuggler," the one in the lead commanded, his voice dripping with scorn. "If you stay out of our way we may let you su—"

The man's speech was cut short by a blaster bolt through the throat, courtesy of the smoking barrel of one of Kalen's blaster pistols. The other cultists dove off of the ramp to find cover behind anything they could, while Kalen ducked back behind the corner of his ship's corridor. "Sorry!" he called out to the cultists who remained outside the ship. "Not the biggest fan of monologues." A few blaster bolts pinged off the bulkhead in response. "K1, do you think you could send them running for me?" he asked his droid.

A small blaster cannon on the underside of the ship turned, and blasted at a crate that the cultists had hidden behind. It exploded in a shower of sparks, drowning out the screams of whoever was behind it; the survivors turned and ran back to the exit from the hangar, with bolts from Kalen's blasters following them, taking a couple more down.

"Alright, once I'm out, raise the docking ramp and disable the override on it," he told his droid. "Make sure to keep the blaster cannon ready to defend the ship. Try not to hit anymore crates full of power cells, by the way. I'm already giving these guys a discount, I don't want to start losing money." The droid burbled questioningly at him. "Of course I'm going after them!" he replied testily.

"I can't just let them take over this ship! I just got those power cells unloaded, the captain hasn't paid me for them yet!"

 

[Rayf Vigil]

"Copy that, Flaps," Commander Vigil drawled into his com set, by now so fed up with his own instruments that he was scanning the densely packed cyclones of ionized gases produced by the nebula's false vacuum fluctuations and dark matter pockets, "Glad at least someone's scopes are cutting through all this white noise."

His wingman started to ask a question, but then trailed off suddenly before announcing he had sighted enemy contacts.

"All Rogues, break formation and give chase," he ordered, tapping his flight helmet thoughtfully, "We can't let these guys escape, but remember nice and easy. Push your bird too hard in here and your engine will flame out."

A roiling maelstrom at the center of the Briar Nebula pulled in surrounding space debris from hundreds of thousands of kilometers around, flying a single seat starfighter through here felt like flying an airspeeder through a sandstorm. His inertial dampeners could barely keep him from being tossed around the cockpit like a ragdoll. Rogue Leader still couldn't make out their bandits, but even though he had not been flying with him long he already trusted Lieutenant [member="Cuan Kunn"]. The Sullustan was a capable pilot, already a standout new recruit.

And then there was that sense of optimism. He could sense it in all the new blood, the handful of them left from back in the Galactic Alliance days were now more ghosts than people. Rayf had seen too many men and women under his command die, suffered too many defeats. There were in many ways little more than walking wounded, but as long as each could bring themselves to strap into an X-Wing their experience and killer instincts was too valuable for the Alliance Remnant to cast aside.

[member="Ava Cartwright"] | [member="Frielle Kinniak"]​

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Objective: Search and Rescue

"Scan the area for distress calls: we need to know where they are, and proceed with escort since there are good chances that enemies lurking around here will target medvac craft"

After the Saijo fiasco, Therapy Command was busy dealing with the hordes of sick and injured from all over the western reaches of ORC territory. With the flow of refugees from Thral, Won Shasot, Saijo and other Shakuran-affected worlds, it was only natural that some of the refugee ships would be set upon by pirates, but she rarely had patients in the CIC, and probably for good reason. Now that they were retreating somewhat to the east of Saijo, it was time for her to take care of other refugees that may require medical attention. It was going to be a long day, and there was very little, if any, rest for the medical crews. As a result, the supplies of Skor stimcaf were steadily dwindling. By now there were medvac craft sent all over the area, with fighters for escorts, searching for those patients while medical personnel, both organic and droid, were on standby for what was to be yet another scene of triage: they steeled themselves for another influx of patients. Decompression, broken bones, lacerations, and other traumas that were all too common when rescuing people from shipwrecks in space.

 

[Kaia Starchaser]

To She loved her life out here on the Rim. And seeing what good she was doing always made her feel better. The issue was getting back for refueling and resupply. The Pulsar entered the area around what was known as the I50. Her ship was doing … fine enough, on fuel, but it was going to be time to refuel soon. And she was down to dried meats and canned fruits for food. She shook her head as she turned in her pilot’s seat. “What did we just pull into, Drifter?” She called to her probe droid who was plugged in.

Kaia tapped a few things on the screen to slow her engine output and bring up her shields, reducing the dampeners from 95 to 98%. She looked at the scans and shook her head. “We come out of lightspeed into what… a fight? Let someone know.” She said, knowing that the droid would send out a message to the nearest Warden by the anonymous network. Sometimes they needed to call for help, and when you worked large expanses of space? It was not always easy to get someone to the aid.

Reaching out in the Force she was hoping to find … anyone nearby.

“Coalition…” The dark haired pilot muttered and shook her head. Tapping a few keys, she routed herself into the battle network. What was going on…

Hearing the call of Scouts and the Sharukan, and Black Rose, she shook her head.

“Frak…” She shook her head. “Drifter, about that message?” She looked at her droid with a quizzical look.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Darth Banshee]

Objective: 2 help with pirate strikes
Allies: Pirates
Enemies: ORC
Equipment: Armour, Lightsaber, Healing Amulet,
Ship: H.M.S. Carannia

Darth Banshee was waiting for the Refugee convoy, inside the nebula. The pirates job was not truly engage the refugee convoy, but to push it towards her ship. She was going to board them, and take more slaves. They where easy picking, apart from the orc escort. She was pacing up and down the bridge, as her crew kept an eye on the events unfolding. She did here orders like turn one degree to starboard. Preparing pipistrelle fighters, choosing the boarding parties, for her noctuelles. She was also waiting on reports, of what type of ships they would be facing. Her ship was in stealth mode, and would be until it was time to collect her fighters and leave.

She wanted to sell them, and make money, it was simple thought. The more money on Serenno, the richer her planet was, the richer it was the more important it would be. The more important it was, the more important she was. Then that would help rise to sector V commander, so rather than being a proconsul, she would be a consulate, that was her ambition. Her personal fiefdom inside the empire.

 

[Zak Amroth]

"We need to end this standoff!" Deputy Amroth shouted across the starliner cabin to his fellow survivor, "If they take the engine room, they can just cut their losses and blow the ship!"

Even if they found a way to take out these cultists quickly, there was little doubt in Zak's mind that reinforcements would soon follow. The Astral Astoria was a big ship, there would be more of them on other decks. If this team hadn't already commed for support, the sounds of blaster fire would eventually draw scrutiny. Glancing around in a panic, his eyes fixed on an air grate tucked away across from him.

"I'm gonna try and catch em in a crossfire through life support! Cover me!"

The security officer nodded shakily, his eyes wide with terror, and let off a flurry of stun bolts down the forward aisles. Cultists dove back behind cover, and Zak seized the initiative to blast a hole in the grate. A hail of blaster fire sparked off bulkheads all around him when he dove bodily through the improvised opening, crawling forward through the ventilation duct and quickly feeling an overpowering sense of claustrophobia. Flicking open his trusty sparker, the dim illumination it provided was just enough to see a few meters ahead of him.

"Come out to the rim, we'll get together, have a few laughs..." Judge Amroth muttered sardonically, bemoaning his current stroke of misfortune.

[member="Kalen Genet"]​

 

[Runi Verin]

The Boracyk
YTA-1300 Light Freighter​

[member="Kaia Starchaser"] | [member="Amea Virou"]​

​

There was a muffled thump as the aging freighter appeared from hyperspace, the ramshackle form of the Boracyk shuddering and jolting as it suddenly encountered a different set of physics. A transition that predictably saw a sea of warning lights spread out across the console dash, all promising certain doom and tragedy and all subsequently silenced by the pilot with a few flick of a few switches. She didn’t need no factory warning or inbuilt system safeguard to tell her what was wrong with her vessel - she could feel the old boy’s lament in the way the deckplates shifted beneath her feet, in the way the thrum of the vessel’s hyperdrive resonated in her back teeth, and the quiet song its frame sang with each and every laborious twist and turn.

​

It’s days were numbered. She knew it, the Boracyk knew it, the whole galaxy knew it. Yet call her nostalgic, she couldn’t quite bear the thought of parting with the vessel that had given her the first real sense of home. If Runi Verin had her way, it was the vessel that would be with her to the day she died. Most likely because it would be the one that got her killed.

Not today, however. Today she had an entirely different set of concerns. All centered around the little glowing dot on her navigation readout, not even needing to wait for the ID ping to return to know who’s vessel it was. There was simply no mistaking that loud presence within the force for anything but a...

​

“<Starchaser.>” The Warden hailed, not even bothering to disguise the hard edges that bled into her accented voice. Already regretting the quirk of fate that saw her as one of the closest vessels within the area. The force had a twisted sense of humor. Seeing her pulled into a fledgling warzone at the behest of a Starchaser just seemed to be the latest proof she was the continued butt of its jokes. “<There’s a salvagable vessel a sector over with my name on it, so you better have a karkin’ good reason for draggin’ my shebs out the middle of bumkarknow--->”

The console lit up again, her features awash of electronically hued red that this time belonged to a whole different set of warnings. Some, such as the Shurakan presence, hardly a surprise; the Empire was reaching further and further with each passing year, becoming a familiar shadow lingering in the hyperlanes. It was the second identification that caught her off guard. Black Rose. Well, if that wasn’t a blast from the past, she didn’t know what was.

“<Well, feth me.>” Runi leaned back into her flight chair, “<Didn’t we kill this karkers already? ‘cause I distinctly remember killin’ these karkers already.>”

She should know. She had the scars and the healed fractures to show for it.

What the seven blue hell have you got me into now, Starchaser?

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Kaia Starchaser"] | [member="Runi Verin"]​

Runi's Busted YTA-1300​

​

The shiver in her teeth made their exit from hyperspace known with its familiar pop. As long as Amea didn’t think about the fact that the ship that she was journeying on had a fifty-fifty chance of ejecting her into space each time that they entered realspace she would most likely be fine. Though she had tried to raise the point that maybe it was time for something new Runi hadn’t exactly been the most receptive of Amea’s ideas when it came up. And with her access limited in terms of what she was allowed to truly touch or “fix” on the ship, well, Amea was stuck in the observer’s role which was probably fine. Probably. As long as she stuck to a quiet room she would be able to block out that sneaking feeling of impending doom and what-not.

While approaching the cockpit Amea managed to pick up the end of the call. Her brow perked in confusion.

“Killed who?” She asked, glancing at the screen. “Oh.”

Black Rose. Now that was a flash from the past if Amea had ever heard of one.

“Yeah,” She uttered in surprise and slowly took her seat. “I also thought we’d killed those guys.”

“What’s going on here, Runi?”

 

[Griet van Vliet]

Objective: 3
Allies: [member="Zak Amroth"] [member="Kalen Genet"]

"Surrender and we will show you the mercy of the grave. Your Coalition crumbles to the dust, the Black Rose will bloom once more from its ashes" the PA system blared.

Once again, Griet was traveling all over the place for client development: after the last trip on Carida which, hopefully, would bring in Mando clients for external audits, she'd hope she could actually net a few more clients onboard this liner. All of this would be cut short by the sounds of blaster fire. The Black Rose. We shall capture some, while the others are busy elsewhere on the ship, Griet thought, while scanning her surroundings in the Force for those outlaws that called them selves the Black Rose. However, she brought some second-hand blaster scavenged from that one time where she went on Susefvi to cover Janick's rear. Before there even was an accounting firm. She hoped she could use Neural Storm to catch them off-guard because she knew that two Judges couldn't be everywhere at once on this ship. And maybe, just this once, she was using Neural Storm at a rather long range. Yet these were the nearest group of hostiles she could be going to spot that weren't already engaged by others. Just because that group was afflicted by a neural overload, by their neural activity suddenly going haywire, didn't mean there weren't others.

 

[Delila Castillon]

Objective : Refugee Fleet | [member="Xin Boa"] ​

​

Steam from her caf rose out of the mug as she precariously balanced it with one hand. The other hand was scrolling through reports pouring in throughout the area. Rumors were swirling in on a number of distress calls but they couldn't divert to answer any - or investigate if they were true. There was a packed house on board full of refugees. There was a loose refugee fleet and they were smack dab in the middle. Morally it wasn't wise to break away considering the innocent lives they had on board. It wasn't just her and Xin to account for on board.

According to the reports in the area the Crimson Dahlia was closing in on where a number had reported disturbances.Attacks apparently. Dells suspected the Empire or pirates, perhaps a mixture of both.

"Wonder if we should cloak ourselves early...that might go bad considering how many vessels are in this thing."

More or less she was thinking out loud, trying to skirt around dangerous territory. Looked like they had no choice but to go through it though.

 

[Frielle Kinniak]

Briar Nebula

---

---

---

---

Frielle sat in the Qi'ra's hangar and stared blankly out toward the modified X-Wing. She could still hear the sounds of wraith squadron calling out in distress, the last days of the war had created more ghosts than she could have imagined. She cradled her helmet in her hands and looked down staring there as her reflection began to blur. Once more she was in the orange jumpsuit and once more she was about to climb back into the pilot's seat. This time there was no alliance, there was no wraith squadron, just the sounds of a lone pilot heading out into the void. Unfolding from the bench Frielle rose to her feet and tucked her helmet underneath one arm as she climbed up. Her astromech whirred as the Cathar mechanic Tohr Risos secured the hook ups before patting the canopy of the fighter.

Xadia the third member of the Qi'ra's crew watched as Tohr approached the hangar door and the two headed down to the cockpit. There they would help Frielle launch the X-Wing and hope to the Force she came back. The Zabraki gave the Corellian the go ahead and monitored traffic as Frielle's X-Wing powered up and launched from the hangar. The sudden drop from the hangar always made Frielle's stomach turned even if she had gotten used to it by now, she still hated the feeling.

She raced across the void to join what was left of rogue squadron, upon entering the vicinity she picked up [member="Cuan Kunn"]. "Copy Rogue-uh... Rogue, following your lead. Wraith-3 out." Frielle switched comms off and looked at her radar, and then she heard the other rogue squadron fighter. Admittedly, the Corellian would chuckle if it was funny, unfortunately she had to hit her own instruments a few times. Bloody ionization, the curse flew through her mind as the man continued to speak, and then her radar lit up like it was Liberation Day.

"Acknowledged, Wraith-3 set to engage."

The modified X-Wing powered through a turn with the astromechsquealing in the background, "bogey on visual."

[member="Rayf Vigil"] | [member="Ava Cartwright"]

 

[Nida Perl]

Somewhere in the Briar Nebula, a Haven-class transport frigate had been snatched by a pair of interdictor cruisers. The emblem on the side of each vessel made it no mystery as to who was behind the engagement—rather than chasing, the Sharukan had been waiting for them. Their patience had worn thin, and they made it clear that they would escort the frigate into their own territory by force, if necessary.

It never was what Nida had signed up for, but gradually the young Zeltron was coming to learn that relief missions weren’t all taking care of scared children and patching up bruises. Often they were just as dangerous as a battle itself, sometimes without basic amenities.

The Rise Above wasn’t packed to the brim with refugees, but there were several hundred souls aboard waiting anxiously. They’d managed to send out a distress signal for several minutes before communications, along with their shielding had been cut. There’d been much discussion about what to do—the ship was fast, but now they were without even the most basic defenses, and no offensive weaponry to speak of. They could try outrunning the Sharukan, but then they ran the risk of being killed in the chase.

Right now, there wasn’t much they could do but wait. “Shh…it’s alright…” Nida cradled one of the children closer to her, the young boy having his face buried against her leg. He was frightened, as they all were. Nida’s throat tightened as the minutes ticked by, unsure of what to expect and feeling totally helpless. “We’ll be okay, I promise…!” Her stomach tightened now, at the thought of a promise unkept.

A chorus of gasps and a few screams of fear erupted nearby, parting some of the crowd that had gathered. A few warning shots were fired up into the roof and nearly everyone hit the ground, knowing that it was over.

[member="Aulkren Yoso"]

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

Objective: Pirate strikes
Allies: ORC [member="Rayf Vigil"] [member="Cuan Kunn"] [member="Ava Cartwright"] [member="Frielle Kinniak"]
Suspicious: [member="Darth Banshee"] (later)

"It appears the Black Rose is at it raiding the refugee convoy, Alchemist Actual" Wololo commented, while looking at the sensor display.

"We shall make them pay for even trying to go back to ORC-land!" T-account retorted, prior to takeoff.

"Form up with Rogue Squadron whenever possible"

Meanwhile, Janick and her personal squadron, including Wololo, T-account and others, were somewhere else, loading up the bomblet generators so that they would be able to deal with the pirates preying on the refugees from the western reaches of ORC space. A little late to the party, to be sure, but the ORC Navy just couldn't be everywhere at once. Shortly after takeoff, though, Janick starts to have flashbacks of her impersonating Darth Venefica on Shusugaunt. And also of the ORC file about Venefica, which, for all intents and purposes, doesn't require any updates. The Black Rose is attacking... is that retribution for my attempt at impersonating Venefica back on Shusugaunt? Ugh... I can't seem to get these pictures of Venefica, of that operation on Shusugaunt out of my head... but I bet Venefica can't even fly half as good as I, she thought, while visions of photocopiers bursting into ionic flames at strategic points in the business center's power grid were flashing in her mind, and also of her dressed as Venefica while doing that stuff. For this reason, she was flying rather erratically much as she had on Utapau, even though in the latter, there was so much smoke that it may as well be IFR conditions in place.

"Poodoo!" Janick screamed.

 

[Xin Boa]

"Periscope isn't enough to fly by in the nebula," Xin replied with a shake of his head. "Thought we might be able to follow a flight plan but the cloud moves too much. The buoys take a narrow path and the chance of a collision would be too high."

Xin have given the option some thought as his nerves frayed. The risk of an ambush was apparently high. They were still a long way from friendlies.

A patch of thick cloud ahead of them was lit very briefly. The sensors started to declare warnings. Xin turned himself back to the controls sharply. He swore under his breath.

"Engine signatures ahead." The holographic display confirmed a tight formation of red dots that had been hiding in the nebula. A moment later the dark, sleek shapes burst into view, leaving swirling eddies of cloud in their wake.

"Dells, guns." He turned on the ship's intercom. "Everyone buckle up. Or old onto something."

 

[Cuan Kunn]

The Sullustan was more than excited to be on a strike with the Rogues, at least most of them. Checking his screen he did know they had enough to push back the Sharukans. Gripping the control yolk tighter, his face was just focused and ready, and a bit of glee, in so far as a Sullustan can display at least. Hearing Rogue Leader, he nodded. “Not sure if it was a fluke, but they dinged through. Off to check it out.” He did have a bit of advanced scanners on his X-Wing, to provide the squadron with some early warning, as best as the X-Wings could be without something like a Longprobe.

He and his wingman took point, moving towards the scouts.

Another call came from the Wraiths, Wraith 3 to be specific. “Lets see if you can keep up!” He gave a playful call over the comms. The Wraiths and Rogues had that long standing competition, right? He pulled his engine back, as his astromech was warning him they were going to hit a redline in this nebula. Flaps shook his head then nodded. “We’ve got visual, Lead, Rogues and Wraiths moving to engage.”

A natural at chasing down small targets, Cuan liked to think his visual scanning was better than most. Long dark times in the tunnels, and all.

[member="Rayf Vigil"]
[member="Ava Cartwright"]
[member="Frielle Kinniak"]
[member="Janick Beauchamp"]

 

[Kaia Starchaser]

Getting the call out, she nodded. “Good bot.” She laughed to herself, only people who knew meta and different websites would know what her joke was all about. But Drifter was a good droid, helped that he was equal parts astromech and probe droid and seemed to have the programming to allow him to do both jobs with relative success. Compared to say, an assassin droid or protocol droid. And his floating skills allowed him to not get tossed around her freighter too often. A good thing in her book.

Especially the way she flew… when the occasion called for it. She might be a Starchaser but it didn’t mean she was treating her light freighter like it was a starfighter. Before the droid could really go into depth on the message, the familiar voice of another Warden, and friend came across.

Runi Verin! Wonderful. Kaia was only trying to impress her, like always. She swung her seat back to her pilot’s seat to get a reading on the vessels incoming, nodding to Drifter to get a reading and store the data. “Apparently not. Or the Coalition is stirring up trouble again. Been watching the sectors because of…” Well, her father. “Reasons, and the Sharukans seem to be coming back. And ain’ taking kindly to our Coalition here.”

“Wait, who are you talking about? Rose? There are Sharukans here too.” She shook her head again. Feth this.

“What you wanna do, Verin, run against the fleet or get to that vessel? One of us can get aboard and the other can fly cover…” She was open to the options.

[member="Runi Verin"]
[member="Amea Virou"]

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Objective: Search and Rescue

"Prepare the oxygen bottles! Kolto tanks are prioritized to those who suffered third-degree burns and higher"

Decompression-induced asphyxia was all too common among the first batch of patients, as well as a bunch of other respiratory problems that could be life-threatening, such as carbon monoxide poisoning, to name what the patients actually had. Also, she could sense some of them were burned, and plasma burns were all too common. Hopefully there will be enough kolto tanks to cater to those who suffered burns when they couldn't make to the safety of an escape pod, Cathul thought, while the influx of patients to the hangar, temporarily used for triage, started to come while escape pods tended to have healthier occupants than those who couldn't make it. Of course, she knew about the value of escape pods when ships and/or their occupants are threatened, since Skor and even before that, but even more so today, she was grateful for the convoy having them. But she'd rather let the medical personnel actually handle the medicine until the sickbays become full, and only then would she even start allocating patients to other areas of the ship. Nevertheless, she had the CIC sterilized for that occasion.

 

[Darth Banshee]

Objective: 2
Enemies: eventually [member="Janick Beauchamp"]

She was waiting in cold dark vacuum of space, her ship was only thing that stood between her and that. She was waiting for pirates, they where about to engage the convoy of future slaves. They drive them here, but until they where in visual range she could tell what they are doing, and could not make plans. This calm before the storm, this was bit she did not like. When all was still, and everything was calm, but knew everything would change. That was just a matter of when, not if, not but, just when. She hated it, and was pacing up and down, and then decide to begin moving to her hangar bay. she was flanked by her palace guard, not like she needed them on the ship, she wanted them for when she boarded. They cover her back as she went forward, meaning she only had to think of one thing, how to kill the resistance in front.

She soon got there, the droids where already on the drop ships, and palace guard, and the pilots where hanging around playing card. They where dealing with this better than her, but you know what, they paid to deal with. This was the first time, she realised she cared for the lives of her people, she was now wearing the crown, as these where her people.