Faction Once Upon a Time | Rebels

[Aderyn Acair]

THE PAST
BORLEIAS - PYRIA SYSTEM
​

The bulk freighter hovered on the outskirts of the system, its scanner system sucking data in from as far as it could reach.

"The scanners are like the engine, Aderyn," said the gruff man in the pilot's seat as a slender woman in dark, well-made clothing paced behind her. At least, she paced until he said that, then she stopped and made a quizzical sound in the back of her throat. "Don't go any faster just because you're pacing."

"Droll," was the woman's reply, her lips twisting into a smirk despite her anxiety.

Finally, there was a ding, and the pilot leaned forward. "Nothing on sensors scan. Nothing that it can see, anyway." He rubbed his chin, the beginnings of a beard beginning to itch. "Take us in?"

Aderyn chewed the inside of her cheek and peered out the viewport into the unfathomable darkness of space. Borleias hung like a bauble there, as if she could touch it. Finally, she said: "Take us in."

The signal was an older SELCORE frequency. As a former member of SELCORE -- the Galactic Alliance Senate's Select Committee on Refugees -- Aderyn had access to the historical ciphers. She had been on a SELCORE relief mission when the Empire had sacked Coruscant, and the collapse of the rest of the Alliance had come before she could get back to Fondor. The planet for whom the supplies were meant had already fallen to the Empire, and so Aderyn had made the executive decision to keep the convoy and the supplies until they could reconnect with the Alliance government.

Only that hadn't happened.

And now fuel stores were running low. Medications, too. The relief workers and the few members of the military that formed the convoy were beginning to become desperate. There was a vague sense that they ought to Do Something™ but between keeping the reactors going and keeping a step ahead of Imperial patrols that were seeking out the last vestiges of the Alliance's power structure that hadn't folded into the comically obvious puppet state, there hadn't been the opportunity to find out just what that was yet. Everyone in the convoy seemed to be looking to Aderyn for guidance, because she had been Someone in the Alliance. A Senator. On holovision.

If only they knew how out of her depth she felt.

The signal had been a godsend. The promise of resources, the feeling of being able to accomplish something and maybe help some people in the meantime, had energized the convoy. Aderyn had loaded up a handful of her best troops and a freighter that could carry the supplies back and set out, determined to be seen to be doing something other than managing the dwindling supplies in their storage holds and trying to schedule shifts that wouldn't result in fistfights. It was easier said than done.

Borleais swelled, and soon the ship was entering the atmosphere, humidity fogging at the corners of the viewports. "Is there a landing area next to the signal?"

"About half a klick, there's a landing pad. Three quarters of a klick, there's a clearing in the jungle, but it's not paved."

"Put us down in the clearing," said Aderyn. "We can always move the ship closer when we have the supplies if all goes to plan." The pilot -- Klonis, a haggard older Zabrak -- nodded and hummed as he maneuvered the controls. "I'm going back to talk to the others. Stay in touch on the comlink, all right?"

"You got it," said Klonis. Aderyn glanced at the back of his horned head as she retreated. He had the audacity to seem almost bored with the assignment. Must be nice, she thought.

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

EPISODE – Entry # 7
Location: – Deep Space
Assigned Craft: My X-wing or My Other One Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: Bored
Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the spherical Diva.

“Routine Patrol Maneuvers”, that was what the orders were. Routine Patrol Maneuvers Which meant that the only thing routine about it was how boring it was. That’s not to say that Michael was looking for a fight, he wasn’t but when the “Reflections Pride”, a "Liberator" Assault Carrier sat in the middle of the patrol zone. There was a small issue with the hyperdrive, so they were stuck there until it was fixed.

They were in the middle of a pass when Striker 11 called out: “[Contact! Borleias. Pyria system, two systems over.]”

[What’s the issue?]

“[A ship is dropping out of hyperspace and entering the atmosphere.]”

Wooo-beep

I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you. [Why is that an issue?]

“[Using Galactic Alliance Frequencies.]”

Striker 15 confirmed “[I am picking them up too.]”

CUTTO SCENE - Michael and BRED are walking around their X-wing as if inspecting. Wooo-beep

No! We have to investigate though!

Weee-booop


Whatever! Shut up!

Wooo-beep

He’s a good guy! [Alright 3 and 4 flight, form up!]

Not waiting, Michael pulled on the stick, forward on the throttle and the X-wing’s engines roared to life. The ship lurched forward as did the others they were moving to investigate the situation. BRED was complaining as always about how they were going to die, but why was this one so different?

TAG: Aderyn Acair

CUTTO SCENE - This is where he is speaking in a different setting, as if recapping what he had just seen on a holovid
Wooo-beep

 

[Wedge Draav]

OUTLAWS

DEAD MAN WALKING• BORLEIAS, PYRIA SYSTEM• GIMME SHELTER

His mind was fresh off another bender, coming to a few hours ago in his cockpit on a shitty spaceport. He managed to not vomit in his X-wing, and somehow, at some point, showered.

He’d been flying for a few hours after the escort mission, staring blankly at the void of space. He debated, a few times, punching in coordinates blindly into his navigation system. He’d fly forever with just the press of a button.

Then, a signal brought Wedge out from the idea of finding out what his blaster tasted like. His jet black and dull orange X-wing hummed. Just a little. An Alliance transmission still stored in the communications array.

SELCORE.

“Huh.” He said, first words spoken in hours. Days? He didn’t think much of it, and pulled the throttle hard and left.

And went towards it.

About an hour later-

A Jet black X-wing screeched across the sky near the SELCORE source, a terrifyingly low pass. He turned his head to look, and stared. An Alliance ship!

And then, part of him sank into his seat. He hadn’t seen an Alliance ship from his cockpit in months. Ever since they kicked him out.

He realized how miserable he must’ve seemed, clinging onto the past like he was. He went back for another pass.

Surely, it was just the drugs he’d been taking to cope with it all playing a cruel trick. Somehow, that felt better than the reality he might’ve been facing. No one from the Alliance cared anymore.

Right?

 

[Ria Misrani]

Ria hadn't been in the business of fighting tyrannical powers in a very long time.

The last time she'd been actively mixed up in anything of the sort, Jorus Merrill and Runi were still alive. Bryce Bantam, Dak, a whole host of others, they'd all been around then. And these days? There wasn't much left of the old rebels. At least, that was what she'd told herself, often enough that it had started to feel true. Hells, she'd spent most of her recent days as a feline rather than wrestle with human problems in a galaxy that had never much cared for anyone to begin with.

Easier to be a cat. Cats didn't get dead frequencies stuck in their heads.

And yet here she was, human again, aboard her freighter, the Jorus Merrill, because she hadn't been able to bring herself to call it anything else, drifting in at the edge of the Pyria System. Her fingers walked the communications console with the old, unthinking fluency, thumbing across the bands, listening for ghosts.

There it was. An old SELCORE cipher, the kind nobody used anymore because nobody was left to use it. She'd recognize that flavor of frequency anywhere; she'd sliced enough of them in her time. Hearing it now, alive and pulsing out of the dark, did something complicated to her chest that she elected not to examine.

The galaxy hadn't gotten kinder while she'd been gone. The Sith sat fat in the Core. Imperial remnants came and went like weather. The High Republic was about the only thing out there she'd call good, and even then she didn't expect them to be perfect, nobody was, and she'd stopped asking people to be a long time ago.

But somebody was out here, on a frequency that should have been dead, calling for the Alliance like it still existed.

Ria leaned back in the pilot's seat, exhaled slowly, and keyed the array to listen closer. "Yeah," she muttered to the empty cockpit, to the ship that wore a dead man's name. "Figures."

Wedge Draav | Michael Angellus | Aderyn Acair ​

 

[Sol Stazi]

"All mortal greatness is but disease."
Moby Dick

Like a wounded predator the damaged Alliance cruiser Chandrilan Crown plunged out of hyperspace in a blur of pseudomotion. There were multiple breaches in a hull scorched by heavy turbolaser fire. She drifted through the Pyria system, lights flickering all over her superstructure from apparent reactor damage. No attempts were made at communication with the signal broadcasting from Borleias.

Tiny motes drifted from the Crown's belly resolving into the fusial thrust engines of dropships. They broke atmosphere in close formation and when the lead transport's hull cooled down enough from reentry General Sol Stazi slid open the passenger bay's loading doors. He was the first to jump, bracing against the whiplash of wind resistance at such high altitudes.

Stazi felt the heat against his back of a grav chute, disposable jet packs that special forces teams like the Pathfinders used to insert themselves in hostile territory. When he landed in the jungle Sol cut it loose with a vibroknife and felt unburdened by so much extra weight. He unwrapped an old BK-43 model blaster and made sure the power cell was fully charged.

"Eclipse Team this is Cloak Leader."

He heard a chorus of whispers through the comlink in Sol's ear. Each trooper had already endured intense wilderness survival training to be selected for the Pathfinders. General Stazi did not need to worry about any of them getting lost.

"Proceed to the signal coordinates," he hesitated for a moment while considering his next order, "Wait for my command before you engage."

 

[Alison Sky]

Ruby Squadron dropped out of hyperspace like scattered jewels, crimson streaks collapsing into sleek starfighters hanging against the endless black. The pilots could hardly believe they had picked up an Alliance signal out here. Most assumed it was a trap. These days, anything that sounded too good to be true usually was.

Still, they had come to investigate. Even a trap was preferable to the endless monotony of patrols, dead channels, and empty stars.

"Hold position, Rubies. I'll attempt communication."

"Roger, Ruby One." Alison chirped back.

Alison settled back in her cockpit and let out a quiet sigh. Outside, the stars drifted in silent indifference. Her gaze dropped to the small thermometer clenched in her gloved hand. The numbers were climbing again.

Bloodburn. The fever came faster every week now, creeping higher with each flare-up. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat and tucked the device away before anyone could notice. She just hoped they could put down somewhere before it became a problem this time.

 

[Cord Starfall]

Theme: The Wellerman
Equipment: Solar, Sith Sword | Fiend, Sith Sword | Sith Armor | Green MidNight Duster | Sith Mask | x2 DL-44 heavy blaster | Stun gauntlets | X2 Sith Daggers | Wrist laser | Wrist Lanvarok | x6 Thermal Detonators | Various other Explosives
Tags: OPEN

---

The Jolly Roger sat in a clearing in the forest of Borleias, all its blast view port blast shields were down to keep out any light from outside. The old Cr90 had all the markings of a pirate ship, its name proudly displayed next to its pirate colours. Yet if anyone had come across, they might think it had been abandoned, no life seemed to come from around it. Nothing from inside had stirred or left the ship in sometime. It had just sat there in a jungle clearing undisturbed ever since it had landed.

Inside the ship only a single soul was aboard, it had been that way for a long time now. A single soul with droids as a crew. That single soul sat on the command deck in the captain's chair. Her feet perched up on the captain's control console, and she leaned back in the captain's chair. Her eyes closed as she lifted a bottle of whiskey in her right hand to her lips.

As she took a sip and let it burn down her tongue to the back of her throat, her console began beep. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at the console and the light that was now blinking. She just stared at it hoping it would turn off but it didn't it just keep blinking and beeping.

She pulled her feet from the console and leaned forward. She hit a button on the console and computer screen came to life. She looked at, not sure exactly what she was reading. It was some kind of transmission code the computer deciphered as alliance. That couldn't be right?

She wanted to yell for Dax in that moment, but she knew she couldn't he was long dead. Damn kid had set up all this sophisticated technobabble on the ship, and Cord didn't understand how most of it worked. As she thought on Dax for a moment she took a big swig of the whiskey, it was better to bury the memory than dwell on it.

Still and alliance code was intriguing, considering she figured they were all gone at this point. Also, even if there was a remnant out there why would they come this close to imperial territory. Well chit, best check it out she finally thought as took another swig of the whiskey and stood up.

She walked out of the command deck heading to get ready. Walking through the dark halls of the cr90 past droids doing their routine business. She stopped by one them, she couldn't remember its service name.

"Uh can you get that beeping to stop?" She asked it.

"Yes, Captian." The droid scurried off as Cord continued to get ready to investigate the Alliance Transmission.

 

[Lucan Mecetti]

Tags: Aderyn Acair Michael Angellus Wedge Draav Ria Misrani Sol Stazi Alison Sky Cord Starfall
Objective: Observe Communicate
Location: Borleias

Illum had received intel that an old Alliance signal had been spotted in the vicinity of Borleias. Odd, that, since the Alliance was in free fall ever since the Battle Above Atrisia. Funny how a nation can win a battle, but somehow still lose the larger war. They had defeated the war machine of the Empire, the Death Star had been destroyed, the Imperial fleets routed back to the Core where they had come from.

But it wasn't enough to keep the cohesion of the allied systems. One by one they had detached themselves from the larger federation, all thinking that they'd be safer alone and independent. A large target versus many small ones. Fondor and the greater Tapani Sector had pulled out as well.

That is when his father's missives had begun. One more pressing than the other, demanding that his son return to the fold and assume his rightful position at Lord Mecetti's feet.

But the New Jedi Order had not given up just yet. They withdrew towards Illum and continued to try and make a difference. This is why Knight Mecetti was send out to investigate the signal. His mission was simple, observe, record and report back without causing any fuss.

Easier said than done.

If they wanted someone who followed the mission parameters to the letter they should have picked another Knight for the job. The fact that they were stretched thin and there were few other options didn't register with Lucan. His starfighter reversed out of hyperspace and he set the vehicle to tracking mode.

It would follow whatever was emitting the signal from a safe distance.

The Force was being conspicuously quiet, but that was a hint in itself. It told Lucan to be careful. But that was the issue with a headstrong former nobleman.

They didn't like to do what they were told.

He keyed in the transmission codes and tried to lock-on whatever was nearby.

<< This is Jedi Knight Lucan Mecetti from the New Jedi Order. If you are receiving this and are friendly, please respond. I am here on a fact finding mission and to render aid if needed. >>

Perhaps it would reach Aderyn Acair's ship before it broke atmosphere. Or Stazi's group, or Starfall. For now Lucan was blissfully unaware of how many entities were starting to reverse into the expansive system of Pyria.

Stupid maybe to send a message without knowing what was out there, but Lucan figured that fortune favored the bold.

 

[Gunfist]

No attempts were made at communication with the signal broadcasting from Borleias

“You see that thing ? There’s going to be so much good scrap.”

A gigantic Houk stared at the view screen in the cockpit of his freighter.

“Take us in Mickey.”

“Got it, Brijj.”

The Squib at the pilot’s seat gave a mad little cackle and steered the freighter toward the cruiser.

The freighter had “BRIJJ SALVAGEWORKS” painted on the side.

Ben “Gunfist” Brijj, notorious hijacker of the Sakedo Tower on Denon years ago, wore a big grin as he stroked the enormous cannon where his right forearm shroud have been.

“Time to earn some creds.”

 

[Aderyn Acair]

Aderyn was already sweating and they'd only been walking for ten minutes, the dot on her scanner growing slowly, painfully closer as they wound through the jungle that separated the clearing from the location of the SELCORE signal. She paused a moment, leaning against a tree, and unscrewed the lid on her canteen and took a swig before replacing the lid and sticking it back in the net holder on her belt.

"Ready?" asked one of the troops at her side.

"Yeah," Aderyn murmured. She knew they thought she was soft and they weren't wrong. She had sat behind a desk for much of her career, and even as she took a more active role in SELCORE her role was to oversee, accompany, and talk with refugees, not carry heavy packs and guns. She pressed on, but only a few moments after, her comlink chirped.

"Senator," Klonis said over the comlink line. "Something big just came outta hyperspace."

"Imperial?" she demanded breathlessly, half-turning back toward the clearing, trapped somewhere between pressing on and turning back. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Klonis' response seemed to take forever, even though it was only a few seconds. "Looks like -- not. Looks like an Alliance model. Only got passive scanners on, now, but -- ok, hold it. Smaller signatures. Dropships, I'd say, and heading for Borleais."

Aderyn hesitated, hand on a forked tree, and cast a gaze up toward the canopy, as if she could see the ships through the leaves, the branches, the cloud cover, to see the true intent of the ships now heading for the surface. She took a breath and turned back toward the signal. "Keep an eye on it and keep me updated. We need to press on."

She had taken another handful of steps, then Klonis was back: "Uh, one more thing, Senator. Someone up here claiming to be a Jedi Knight from the New Jedi Order."

"I'm starting to worry about this cache," Aderyn murmured dryly. "Keep an eye on it, Klonis."

As they approached the blasted duracrete bunker that the jungle seemed to be growing around, somewhere on the other side of things she heard something vaguely mechanical -- she didn't know enough to recognize it as the sound of Sol Stazi 's grav chutes. She couldn't even tell how far away they were. She glanced at the three troopers escorting her. "It's possible that we're not alone. Careful."

They ducked into the hole blasted in the side of the bunker wall and activated their flashlights.

Sol Stazi | Michael Angellus | Gunfist | Alison Sky | Ria Misrani | Wedge Draav | Lucan Mecetti | Cord Starfall​

 

[Admiral Gym Halpern]

PERSONAL LOG: Admiral GYM HALPERN (RET.)
DATE: [REDACTED]Deep Space
PRIORITY: Secured / Personal Eyes Only
ASSIGNMENT: Training Maneuvers
STATUS: En route + executing

Maneuvers were slow and boring, they were a good way to pass the time but they had to be done at a mind numbingly slow pace. It was a good way to get new recruits used to the idea of being on this level of ship. It was also a good way to get them used to the idea of following protocols at the worst possible times.

The squadrons were in the dark about this, a test of their ability to follow orders under the pretense that they were guarding a ship with a faulty hyperdrive. They were told to maintain a slow pace to keep things at a high security level.

“CON-COMMS… We have Striker Squadron reporting a SELCORE frequency in use.”

Confirmed?

“Aye, PYRIA SYSTEM-BORLEIAS. Confirmed and on planet. Dropship hyperspace signatures as well”

Acknowledged. Helm, all ahead full. Inform Striker Squadron that their SELCORE is a
priority, and they are to maintain their current heading.

The ship surged forward, the artificial gravity compensators struggling to maintain. The crew, previously lulled by the monotony were now scrambling to their stations, the sudden shift in responsibilities and focus deterred none of them.

This is what he is saying to people, just like a cutaway

TAG: Aderyn Acair Gunfist Lucan Mecetti Cord Starfall Sol Stazi Wedge Draav

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

EPISODE – Entry # 7 Location: – Deep Space Assigned Craft: My X-wing or My Other One Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30) Current Mood: Bored Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the spherical Diva.

[Seriously? They want us to investigate?]

“[More hyperspace signatures… small… dropships..]”

Wooo-beep


What is he calling for? [Form up. We’re moving. Passive scans.]

Weep-boop


“[Those dropships are hitting atmo.]”

Striker 15 confirmed “[Turtle… the carrier is moving.]”

CUTTO SCENE - Michael and BRED are walking around their X-wing as if inspecting. Wooo-beep

Yeah, we were that way at one point.

Weee-booop


Whatever!

Wooo-beep


[Alright 3 and 4 flight, form up! S-foils in attack position, we’re going in. Weapons cold, running a rece.]

They were entering the system. If there were friendlies they would see no weapons, but if they were hostile, they would be able to react quickly enough. Michael just hoped it wasn’t a trap. He’d never hear the end of it from BRED.

TAG: Aderyn Acair Gunfist Lucan Mecetti Cord Starfall Alison Sky Sol Stazi Ria Misrani Wedge Draav

CUTTO SCENE - This is where he is speaking in a different setting, as if recapping what he had just seen on a holovid
Wooo-beep

Gunfist Lucan Mecetti Cord Starfall Alison Sky Sol Stazi Ria Misrani Wedge Draav

 

[Lucan Mecetti]

Tags: Aderyn Acair | Michael Angellus | Wedge Draav | Ria Misrani | Sol Stazi | Alison Sky | Cord Starfall
Objective: Investigate
Location: Borleias

The strangest thing was that Lucan didn't get any response besides static.

But Knight Mecetti was not one to allow a mystery go to waste. He waited another minute and then decided to hell with it all. The Order told him to be cautious, but that wasn't an instinct in his bone. Another minute later his starfighter was already on course with the planet, following the trajectory of the signal.

Soon enough he'd make landfall and do a proper investigation.

It would probably get him a reprimand by the Order, irrespective of having success or not. Those types always preferred procedure over results, but that was not to be helped.

He had committed to the Alliance and their New Jedi Order.

The last thing on Lucan's mind was forsaking them just because they differed in the way they liked to handle things. Better to just get a flick over his knuckles.

The next thing the Jedi did was probably stupid. Right before breaking atmosphere he send one more missive towards the signal and whoever was around it.

<< Alliance signal, I am coming in to investigate, if you are friendly, do not shoot. I would prefer not to have to swap out my robes because of blaster holes in them. >>

Only then did Lucan sit his ship down.

It would be a bit of a walk, but he wasn't completely stupid. Best not to land too closely on the off chance it was a trap of some kind. The last thing that Lucan needed was to walk into a mess with no way out.

 

[Aderyn Acair]

​

The bunker was a shambles.

It had very clearly once been a staging area for SELCORE supplies. Aderyn couldn't remember if she had laid eyes on the location in a report, or if the scattered remnants of SELCORE paraphernalia was providing some kind of confirmation bias. But it was obvious that it had once served as a supply distribution venue, and it was obvious that it no longer did. Aderyn was a Senator, not a biologist, but she could tell that the hole they entered with had not been the only exposure to the elements the base had experienced. The damp smell of natural decay -- the kind that over centuries returned duracrete to the land and saw trees grow through once-impermeable structures -- made the air fragrant.

It was not unpleasant. The decay was nature, cycle -- not death. The good news was that they hadn't encountered any bodies. Not yet.

"This way," Aderyn murmured, swinging her tracker to the left.

Green light filtered in through other holes, giving the absurd notion of clambering through a giant, moldy brick of Emmental cheese.

A moment later, her comlink crackled to life. Klonis said: "Getting a transmission. Patching you in."

Before she could protest, an unfamiliar voice crackled through the static: "<<to investigate, if you are friendly, do not shoot. I would prefer not to have to swap out my robes because of blaster holes in them.>>"

The Senator frowned. Kloris patched himself back through. "Getting a little crowded out there, Senator."

Aderyn frowned. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. The lines would soon begin to etch themselves permanently onto her face. "Put me through on that frequency, Kloris." After a few clicks and some static, Aderyn was connected. "Unknown Jedi, please identify yourself. This is a SELCORE matter. If you are here to assist, that might be welcome. If you are here to interfere, we will be making a report to the appropriate authorities."

As if the appropriate authorities existed.

Meanwhile, they continued along the corridors, eyes and ears open for anything that might be lurking, flashlights illuminating dark crannies. They were mere minutes from the source of the SELCORE signal.

Sol Stazi | Lucan Mecetti | Alison Sky | Cord Starfall | Wedge Draav | Michael Angellus | Admiral Gym Halpern | Ria Misrani​

 

[Ria Misrani]

Sol Stazi | Lucan Mecetti | Alison Sky | Cord Starfall | Wedge Draav | Michael Angellus | Admiral Gym Halpern​

Ria didn't answer hails. She listened to them.

It was an old habit, older than most of the people currently cluttering up the Pyria System with their engine wash and their open-channel chatter. You learned more from the dark than you ever did with your mouth open, and the dark, right now, was getting crowded. She sat low in the Jorus Merrill, running passive, and let the local traffic pour into her array while her fingers did the quiet work of pulling it apart, signature by signature.

Military dropships, formation-tight, going to ground in the jungle. Special-forces discipline. Those made her sit up a little; people who inserted like that didn't do it to hand out ration packs. A salvage freighter lumbering toward the wounded cruiser overhead, all appetite, no subtlety. A pirate-coded CR90 squatting in a clearing, pretending to be a corpse. Starfighters, a carrier, the usual circling.

And then a Jedi, broadcasting his name in the clear.

Ria's mouth twitched. << do not shoot, I'd prefer not to swap out my robes >> and she actually huffed a breath through her nose, somewhere between contempt and reluctant affection. Gods. They really did still make them like that. Announce yourself to a system full of strangers, half of them armed, and just trust it'll work out. She'd known people like that. Most of them were dead now. A couple of them had been worth knowing.

It was the underneath of it all that got her. Beneath the new arrivals, steady and patient and impossible, that old SELCORE cipher kept pulsing up out of the surface like a heartbeat that hadn't gotten the news it was supposed to stop. She'd sliced that flavor of frequency a hundred times in another life for Jorus, usually, with Runi reading over her shoulder and getting the cadence wrong on purpose just to make Runi raise a brow. Both of them gone now. The frequency wasn't. There was something obscene about that, and something that wouldn't let her leave.

She could be a cat about this. Curl up in the dark, let the galaxy sort out its own ghosts, wake up somewhere warmer when it was over. The thought had real appeal. It always did. For a moment she wanted to, and then just decided to get on with it in a 'What Would Jorus Merrill Do' ideology, or something of the like.

Instead Ria exhaled, long and resigned, and brought the freighter down.

Not toward the landing pad. Not toward the noise. She put the Jorus Merrill into the canopy a good way out from the signal, somewhere green and quiet where nobody counting ships would think to count hers, and she powered down to a whisper before the engines had fully cooled. Old reflexes. You didn't park where the door was. You parked where the back door was.

Then she slung a slicing kit over one shoulder, dropped the ramp into wet jungle air, and went looking for the bunker on foot.

The SELCORE signal pulled her in like a thread on a spool, through the trees, over roots, to a blasted shell of duracrete the jungle had spent a few decades politely strangling. She found a gap that wasn't the obvious one, the way she always did, and slipped inside ahead of the voices she could already hear echoing somewhere back toward the main breach. Flashlights, faint, sweeping. Boots. A woman's voice, clipped and senatorial, challenging somebody over an open channel, unknown Jedi, identify yourself, with the particular brittleness of a person holding a situation together with both hands.

Ria knew that tone. She'd heard it out of better-funded people in worse spots.

She let them come. The signal source was close now, a back room, half-collapsed, a SELCORE relay still ticking over on emergency power after all these years, faithful as a dog nobody remembered to call off. She crouched by it in the dark, kit already open, and laid her fingers against a console that hadn't felt a friendly hand since before half these people were rebels. Old reflexes. The cipher unspooled for her like it was glad of the company.

Footsteps at the doorway. The flashlights found her.

She didn't turn around right away, just kept working, because turning around fast was how you got shot, and because the data was, frankly, more interesting than the introductions.

"Before anybody does anything dramatic," Ria said, dry, to the relay rather than to them, "the signal you've been chasing is a dead-man relay. Automated. Nobody's home, nobody's been home for years. It's just been sitting here saying come back to an empty galaxy. Probably." A pause, it was her best guess anyway. She finally glanced over her shoulder, unbothered, faintly amused, hands still on the console. "Which, I'll be honest, I take a little personally." The blonde got a look around the room.

A moment passed, maybe two.

"Ria. I slice things. You're going to want me for the rest of what's in here."

 

[Malrec Dain]

ARQUITENS-CLASS COMMAND CRUISER ADMONITION
THE BRIDGE -- BORLEAIS ORBIT
[IMPERIAL FLEET]​

The trap had been sprung.

Not by a careless slicer. No, Malrec Dain was too clever to put all his eggs in that one particular basket. He had known too many adept slicers in his time in the academy and since that could get around the strongest encryption measures. Too clever by half were these criminal elements. It wasn't even by the undisciplined trudging of a Senator through the jungle, or the deployment of grav chutes by a commando team, or the open transmission of a rogue Jedi.

These people -- potential rebels based on the bait, but Dain wasn't particular about catching and imprisoning smugglers, pirates, brigands, or scavengers either -- had lost the game the moment they'd approached Borleias, for the grav buoys that the Admonition had scattered were so fine-tuned that there were terribly few possible approaches to the planet that wouldn't trip them. They had done their work well, and the signal had shot through their transmitter relays right back to the command cruiser.

Commander Malrec Dain stood at the center of the bridge, gloved hands clasped behind his back, watching as hyperspace resolved into realspace around the jungle world. He raised his voice to be heard over the spooling down of the hyperdrive. "Signal to Rebuke and Reprisal to scramble their fighters. Get me a full scanner readout of the system, and deploy the landing craft. Their orders are to capture if able, but we won't cry over some dead criminals if push comes to shove. You have your orders."

"Sir -- Defender-class cruiser at point oh nine," his scanner operator called. "Appears to be damaged."

Dain looked down at the command map. "An Alliance relic, perhaps," he mused grimly. Come about," he ordered. "Get me firing solutions, but hold off on firing yet. Signal to the Inexorable to be prepared to jump in on my signal in case things get... out of hand." He paused and tugged his uniform jacket smooth. "Open a broadcast channel to the system." He waited until the communications officer nodded and then said clearly: "Attention Borleias System, this is Commander Malrec Dain of Enforcement Group 77. Be advised that vessels in this system are subject to search and seizure under Imperial Decree 48-Aurek-64. Power down your engines immediately, make yourselves known, or suffer the consequences."

Did it matter that Borleias was not under Imperial jurisdiction? Not to Dain. As far as he was concerned, the entire galaxy would answer to the Empire... or die in their struggle to insist that they would not.

Aderyn Acair | Sol Stazi | Ria Misrani | Michael Angellus | Admiral Gym Halpern
Cord Starfall | Lucan Mecetti | Wedge Draav | Alison Sky
​

​

 

[Admiral Gym Halpern]

PERSONAL LOG: Admiral GYM HALPERN (RET.)
DATE: [REDACTED]Deep Space
PRIORITY: Secured / Personal Eyes Only
ASSIGNMENT: Training Maneuvers
STATUS: En route + executing

“CONN-HELM! Hyperdrive is off-line”

What?

“Off-line sir! No issues mechanically.” There were no mechanical issues, meaning one thing, grav anomalies.

Sensors. Scan for Interdiction tech.

“CONN-COMMS! Incoming message!”

"Attention Borleias System, this is Commander Malrec Dain of Enforcement Group 77. Be advised that vessels in this system are subject to search and seizure under Imperial Decree 48-Aurek-64. Power down your engines immediately, make yourselves known, or suffer the consequences."

Halpern was a calm man generally speaking, but when it came to the Empire, his blood boiled. He was there for battle after battle and fought off much of the Imperial fleet during the attack on Coruscant. Having been one of few Alliance battlegroups.

Kark a Gundark! Weapons hot! Flight, launch all fighters and reroute to Striker Squadron’s last position. Helm, take us in, all ahead full. I want firing solutions on anything not having an Alliance signature or one of ours… If they’re Imperial… light their asses up!

The mood of the bridge changed from one of confusion to one of controlled chaos as the crew scrambled to comply with the man’s orders. There was not a feeling of excitement, but the grim determination of veterans who had seen too much and the morale boosted by a Commanding Officer that was not afraid to get his hands dirty.

This is what he is saying to people, just like a cutaway

TAG:
Aderyn Acair Sol Stazi Ria Misrani Cord Starfall Lucan Mecetti Wedge Draav Alison Sky
[/QUOTE]

 

[Alison Sky]

"Attention Borleias System, this is Commander Malrec Dain of Enforcement Group 77. Be advised that vessels in this system are subject to search and seizure under Imperial Decree 48-Aurek-64. Power down your engines immediately, make yourselves known, or suffer the consequences."

"Ruby Three, why don't you go ahead and respond to that message for us."

"Will do, Ruby One"

Alison pulled up the subspace transceiver and sent a fairly simple message in response.


Aderyn Acair Michael Angellus Wedge Draav Ria Misrani Sol Stazi Cord Starfall Lucan Mecetti Gunfist Admiral Gym Halpern Malrec Dain

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

EPISODE – Entry # 7
Location: – Deep Space
Assigned Craft: My X-wing or My Other One Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: Bored
Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the spherical Diva.

The moment the Imperial transmission cut across the channel, Michael Angellus felt the cockpit get smaller. Not physically. The canopy was still above him. Borleias still sprawled below in great green scars of jungle and mist. The stars were still out there, cold and glittering and horribly indifferent. But the cockpit got smaller all the same. The air tightened. The harness bit into his shoulders. Every indicator on the flight board seemed suddenly brighter than it needed to be.

Then BRED shrieked through the socket.

BEEP-BEEP-BRAAAP-WHISTLE
Michael’s eyes snapped to the astromech readout.

Yeah, I heard him.

BREEEEP

No, we are not calling him ‘Discount Tarkin.’

Bwoooooooop

Fine. We are thinking it very loudly.

The joke came out on instinct, but his hands were already moving. Switches flipped. Shields angled. Weapon safeties disengaged. His thumb hovered over the squadron frequency, and for one ugly second he realized everyone in Three and Four Flight was going to be looking for someone to tell them what came next. Not Halpern. Not the Defender-class cruiser. Not the old Alliance relic limping in-system.

Him.

Michael swallowed. The Empire had sprung a trap. That should have made him feel small. Instead, something hot and bright snapped awake behind his ribs. Striker Three Flight, Striker Four Flight, this is Turtle.

His voice was steadier than he expected. That bothered him for half a second. Then he decided not to question the gift. Listen up. We are in a gravity net. Hyperdrives are paperweights until we find the buoys or get out of the field. Do not, and I mean do not, try to punch out blind unless you want to become expensive confetti.

A few acknowledgments clicked back.

“Three-Two copies.”

“Four-One copies.”

“Four-Three, loud and angry.”

Michael’s mouth twitched. Good. Angry is useful. Stupid is taxable. BRED, paint me the nearest grav sources.

BREEEEP-WWWOOOPPPPThe astromech fired back a stream of irritated binary, and the tactical display filled with ghost markers, faint enough that Michael had to squint to separate real returns from the jungle world’s magnetic static. Not full interdiction cruisers. Not even proper mines.

CUTTO SCENE - An exhausted Michael was walking away from his fighter as ground crews was taking care of it, tying down and securing the vessel. BRED was rolling along next to him. You stepped up. I appreciate it.
Wooo-beep

Buoys.

Tiny. Clever. Imperial little teeth scattered in the dark. There you are, Michael muttered.

Wooo-beep

No, I am not impressed. I am offended. He pushed the squadron channel open again.
Three Flight, you’re with me. We are going buoy hunting. Four Flight, screen the freighter and anything coming up from the planet. If it launches from an Imperial hangar, make it regret having ambitions.

“Four-One, confirm. Defensive screen.”

“Three-Two, on your wing.”

Michael checked the sensor bloom as the Arquitens and its escorts began vomiting fighters into space. TIEs peeled away in disciplined pairs, fast and predatory, their ion engines screaming across the comms like knives dragged over glass.

His heartbeat wanted to climb into his throat. He shoved it back down. Three Flight, spread wide. Do not chase the TIEs. Repeat, do not chase. They want us to be angry and scattered. We are already angry, so congratulations to them, but we are not giving them the second part.

Wooo-beep

Yes, I know that was mature. I hated it too. The first wave of TIEs came in hard. Michael rolled left, hard enough that the inertial dampeners complained. Red bolts slashed past his canopy, close enough to turn his world briefly crimson. He kicked power to the engines, dove under the lead fighter’s attack vector, and pulled back up so sharply that his X-wing seemed to claw its way through space rather than fly.

His targeting reticle flashed. He did not fire. Not yet. Three-Two, break high. Three-Three, cut across my wake. Three-Four, drag that second pair toward Four Flight’s cone.

“You sure?”

Nope.

He squeezed the trigger. Green fire lanced out. Not at the TIE. At the buoy behind it. The tiny Imperial device vanished in a white spark. For half a second, nothing happened. Then the navicomputer chirped. One section of the gravity interference flickered.
Michael grinned despite himself. BRED, tell me you saw that.

BREEEeep

That sounded like admiration.

Wooop

I am choosing to hear admiration.

Three-Two’s voice crackled over comms. “Turtle, you just shot through their formation.”

Correction, I shot through their ego. Formation was collateral.

The fight was on.

TAG: Aderyn Acair Sol Stazi Ria Misrani Cord Starfall Lucan Mecetti Wedge Draav Alison Sky

CUTTO SCENE - This is where he is speaking in a different setting, as if recapping what he had just seen on a holovid
Wooo-beep

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Too close, just barely.

He was so close to the water that the shudder of his engines was splashing up on his cockpit. He looked up at the sky, spotting the TIE fighters coming down and around, X-wings engaging them. Not Alliance government, that much was obvious. Probably Republic, if he had to guess. His X-Wing, the Revenant Squadron special, had enough stealth drives and bells and whistles that they could only see him on sensors if he activated his comms or if he put up his deflector shields.

He didn't fly with a droid, so his signature was quiet. A formation of TIE fighters, three in number, came screeching to reinforce their Imperial brethren. He couldn't tell which Empire they were but he knew that they were bad news. They came fast and hard out of the sun, and engaged the X-wings. But he pulled hard on his throttle, and corkscrewed into their axis of attack and splashed one with a well-put volley of blaster fire. He wore his oxygen mask in orbit, sucking in air as he pulled a hard-G turn. His body pushed against the seat as he shunted power to one set of engines. TIE fighters may have been faster in atmosphere, but they couldn't turn.

Not many X-wing pilots, if any much anymore, were taught the "Draav" maneuver- a difficult timing mechanic, shunting power to one side of their thrusters, and then applying power at precisely the right moment. It was the difference in training of the milliseconds, the experience he had that made him so.... deadly.

He was truly the best, tearing through the sky. He blocked out the sun for just a moment, shadowing the friendly X-wings below. His head turned towards the other pilots, not a flicker of fear or doubt on his face. The Imperial flight pattern broke off into a dive, trying to escape him. They didn't register him on their sensors, they didn't register being targeted or droid interference or tracking. Wedge's X-wing had no silhouette of a droid. In there, in that cockpit, it was just him, him and him alone against the galaxy outside of the cockpit.

He might've been a fuck-up a lot lately in his life, losing Reima and deciding that this act of rebellion and lashing out against anything remotely close to an Imperial trooper or otherwise..... but he was still Wedge Draav. He pulled hard right and down on the throttle, his X-wing spinning and rolling into a pirouette attack pattern, as he didn't have the speed, neither did any of the X-wings there truly, to match the TIE fighters in-atmosphere. It was a different ball game fighting in the restrictions of atmosphere, but so much more thrilling and challenging. The sound alone, screaming winds and howling laser fire and the explosive impact of his blaster fire was enough to keep his adrenaline going. Better than any drug, and only one woman's touch and words of affirmation ever beat the rush.

He breathed deep that drug of speed, and pulled the throttle back hard left. His X-wing went in for another attack run on the TIE fighter trying to break off and regroup with the other flight. The TIE fighter didn't make it much farther before Wedge intercepted his pathing with a blaster bolt, and sent the TIE fighter screaming towards the ground below, a crescendo of violence and explosions marking another kill in the Ace's long career.

Wedge Draav flicked up his comms array, finally disengaging the stealth drives and sensor array blockers. He broadcasted openly. Brazen, stupid, and reckless, maybe.

"Wedge Draav, on station, engaging Imperial troops. Sky's mine."

@da boyz l Alison Sky l Sol Stazi l Malrec Dain