Rishi'pon a Star

[Loske Treicolt]

Rishi Maze​

Manda Merchant Route​

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Cockpit Glimmik Beats​

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The planet Manda, named after the warrior afterlife of the Mandalorian religious system birthed out a merchant route that had been in operation for millennia. It was a well established and often used as not only a trade route, but a navigational throughway from the Mid-Rim to the Outer. The entire fluidity of the charted space was operating within the boundaries of a celestial anomaly that had at one time been a major focal point in the galaxy, but now forgotten and dwarfed.

The Maze offers a home to several alleged operations, all of which have evaded galactic law enforcement.

The stars and disembodied debris slowly decaying and spreading out while in constant rotation within the constraints of the proper Galaxy. The mechanisms and workings of this spiralling spread had granted it the name of the Rishi Maze, and that title was apt.

Navigating through that cloud of stardust allowed some of the best kept secrets to reside out of sight. The maze was home to several clandestine dealings, each of them gambling with their chances of being caught in a black hole. Their discovery too great a risk, even when banked on danger. These operations, some energy mining, could prove useful if able to provide cover to charting expertise through the Maze's tempests.

Among the debris and stars, the Wraith's XO. Plotting a potential route to bring them nearer to Sith Space for a future attack.

"Thanks for the history lesson, as always Frankie." She commented, reviewing the readings that sprawled across her Heads-Up within S.S. Bruno.

She'd collected her survey results, skittering on the perimeter of the maze and dialoguing the updates of the star's ebb and flow. "This was a pretty blue milk run, we can pack it up and zip home now."

Happy to oblige.

Loske smiled to herself. Frank was always keen to get back home, back to company. Much like herself. He'd been built to keep her company for the long stretches of solitude in space, and he was a good companion, but they were both emboldened by the association of others.

Hold on, I'm picking up something fragmented from the outer maze.

"Can you send it up for me?"

Transferring.

The sound of a klaxon and garble stretched through the cockpit, and she furrowed her brow. She stretched forward in her seat and separated her index and thumb across the screen as the diagnostics ran coordinates to triangulate the beacon. "It's a distress signal...looks like it's close to the edge of wild space."

With a wary glance over her shoulder, she summarized the size of her ship's hull. She could offer a hand to transport a few stranded folks...there were several planets nearby that were somewhat neutral. Or, at least CIS. They were mildly friendly with the Coalition.

Loske merged the distress beacon's coordinates with her own navicomputer, locking it in to register.

"Let's approach, keep it calm." While she spoke, the ship's thrusters rotated and she forwarded her weapons to warm up as she accelerated in the direction of the call.

Just in case.

As they neared the location, and the HUD indicated they were close, her scanners activated to trace a silhouette.

[member="Fabian"]​

 

[Marcus Tritum]

The blue whorl of hyperspace resolved into the inky star-specked vacuum of space on the bridge of the Dauntless as two hundred plus meters of warship blinked into existence. Staring through the forward viewport of the Vigil-class frigate, hands clasped behind his back, officer’s cap impeccably positioned, stood Quince Fabian. The rank plaque on his starched and spotless gray uniform held three blue squares beneath three red, a Captain of the Imperial Remnant, the last sad scraps of Grand Moff Graf’s grand vision. None of the others on the bridge had quite so many blues on their plaques, nor near so many reds. They looked at him, expectantly.

Fabian took it with the same calm composure that had proved so effective in board rooms long before he ever entered Imperial service. A true commander knew that leadership required more than largest rank plaque in the room. Indeed, rank meant less now than it ever had, in the wake of the Empire’s collapse. Sometimes Fabian wondered what kept them from turning on him.

He turned and his eyes found those of a sallow, gaunt-faced man at the back of the bridge’s CIC. Imperial Security Bureau Special Agent in Charge, Hix. The man’s lids narrowed, spite in his eyes.

And sometimes I don’t wonder at all.

“Sensors?” asked Fabian, gaze switching toward his second in command, Lt. Densho.

She looked up from her terminal. “We came out right on top of the distress beacon. Looks like a derelict, Captain. And, there’s something else. It appears to be an armed light freighter, conducting further scans, but it did not show up in our initial sweep prior to transit. It must have jumped in just before us.”

“Or been in hiding,” Fabian said dryly.

“Or been in hiding.”

“Lieutenant Kieran, prepare all batteries. Deflectors up. Lieutenant Yill, open up a transmission to that freighter.” Fabian cleared his throat. “Attention, unidentified vessel, this is Imperial Remnant Ship Dauntless. Identify yourself or we will fire on you.”

Hix snorted.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

No radar was necessary to detect the oblong vessel that snapped into view amidst the wasting spirals of stars. She could see it as plainly as her hand in front of her face.

"Holy kark." Loske voiced, her jaw dropping as soon as the ominous object entered the proximity of the distress beacon.

Is this some sort of trap? That vessel outmatches the conditions of this space, and based on the readings I'm getting from it, is becoming close to outdated.

"It must be well serviced."

Let's hope not. We're fully exposed right now.

“Attention, unidentified vessel, this is Imperial Remnant Ship Dauntless. Identify yourself or we will fire on you.”

"..They noticed." Loske murmured, wedging her thumbnail pensively between her teeth and frowning at her readings as the audio interfered with her playlist. She lowered the volume of her music. Unable to admit the purpose of her mission, for fear of jeopardizing the remnant's objectives, she was quickly grateful she was in her personal vessel. Even though it was paling in scale comparison. Before responding to the aggressive instruction, she checked the status of her own weapons and shields. Both were at the ready, should this go south.

"See if there's an easy exit around here, Frankie. I'll respond to them now."

Cocky as she was in the driver's seat, she wasn't suicidal. She moved her hand from her face and thumbed the button to open her comms, leaning back in her chair with a simper.

"Hey, no need for two distress beacons to go out from one place. Just cruising through space when we received a distress beacon to this location, here to help."