Skirmish ROGUE LANCE: BOOK 1: AMBUSH AT ANAXES (LS/THR vs GE)

[Kylass Starhaven]

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ASTEROID BASE DEEP-ECHO IV in the ANAXES ASTEROID BELT has served as a covert JEDI ORDER listening-post and allied smuggler’s station since the DEEP CORE fell into the hands of the GALACTIC EMPIRE.

The fall of ARKANIA and its neighboring systems to the Empire endangers the Asteroid Base’s secret supply lines and escape routes from Imperial Space. JEDI KNIGHT AIDEN PORTE travels with JEDI LIGHTSWORN KYLASS STARHAVEN, and her ROGUE LANCE STRIKE FORCE, to assist in Deep-Echo IV’s evacuation.

However, the IMPERIAL NAVY has finally discovered this eavesdropping operation and has dispatched an IMPERIAL BATTLE SQUADRON under VICE ADMIRAL REMUS ADAIR to capture Deep-Echo IV before it is fully evacuated. Rogue Lance and their allies don’t know what’s coming. THE AMBUSH IS SPRUNG! NOW THEY HAVE TO ESCAPE!​

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CAST OF CHARACTERS:​

ROGUE LANCE & ALLIES:
Kylass Starhaven - Lord Jedi Seneschal of Lightsworn Strike Force Rogue Lance [OBJ1]
Sylith - Swordguard Commando in Strike Force Rogue Lance [OBJ1]
Kito - Jedi Knight Errant in Strike Force Rogue Lance [OBJ2]
Aiden Porte - Jedi Knight Commander of the Deep-Echo IV Evacuation Flotilla - [OBJ2]
Mykel Dawson - NJO Jedi Knight Commander of Antarian Rangers Detachment - [OBJ2]
Jared Starchaser - Jedi Seeker, Commanding Tiburon Squadron [OBJ1]
Balun Dashiell - High Republic Jedi Knight with Task-Force Rebel Dawn [OBJ2]
Marcus Karrde - Allied Smuggler [OBJ1]
GALACTIC EMPIRE:
Remus Adair - Imperial Vice Admiral and Commander of the Imperial Battle Squadron [OBJ1]
Soontir Barvel - Shadow Squadron Elite Pilot and Imperial Starfighter Detachment Commander [OBJ1]
Casi Braste - Dark Side Elite, One of the Commanders of the Imperial Assault Platoons [OBJ2]
DT-7747 Death Trooper Commander with the Imperial Assault Platoons [OBJ2]

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ASTEROID BASE DEEP-ECHO IV
MAIN HANGAR BAY

Suspended over the central holoprojection emitter on the circular and wide projection module was the expanding Axum System star map. Eight bright blue orbs of various sizes traced the paths of planetary orbitals, outlined by thin white, elliptical lines. Highlighted by a halo of identifying crimson rings, adorned with aurebesh lettering, was the fourth world, Anaxes.

Data Windows blinked above its holoprojection-cell-rendered visage and scrolled a list of passing information. Then the star map zoomed in and moved just away from Anaxes to a hazy field of moving smaller astronomical objects cluttered in a dense ring. Another data window popped out and labelled the region as the Anaxes Asteroid Belt. In the vast stretch of the blasted remains of some ancient cataclysm, a specific asteroid was identified with a planted crimson line that sprouted out into its own data window - this was the Asteroid Base Deep Echo-IV.

Ninez, the R9 Astromech manipulating the star map through a dataport accessing scomp-link, barked off a lecturing series of tweets. The star map shifted again, this time a torrent of myriad colored lines burst out of Deep-Echo IV, and with the zoom-out, spread out towards the edges of the Axum System; eventually passing out into the wider Azure Sector. Ninez gave another sequence of pitched chirps and whickering hoots, rattling off a long diagnostic of all the astronavigation calculated flight paths and hyperspace jump points that bloomed out of the asteroid.

“Hmm, I think not Ninez,” said Jedi Lightsworn Kylass Starhaven, planting her palms down on one of the projection module’s rim-embedded command panels. She keyed in some commands against the button pad beside the panel’s miniature monitor. A few of the flight paths and hyperspace jump points were deleted from the star map. “Anything that runs through the Perlemian Trade Route won't do,” said Kylass, continuing. “The Empire will likely have Imperial Naval Patrol up-and-down their end of the route. Not to mention with the fall of the bordering Arkania, Champala, and Ord Lithone’s Systems. There will definitely be Imperial Naval Operations to consolidate their sector superiority there.”

“Wit’ Champala gone, that makes the Corsin Run, n’tha Hydian Way, a no-fly too,” said the elder Ugnaught Spacer, Lunken Sollard, tugging pensively at his massively overgrown sideburns. “Masser’ Jedi, this’ll be a tight squeeze, aye, if ye’planz to skip o’er the Impz’s notice.”

Kylass nodded in silent, worried, agreement with the Ugnaught beside her. He had been with her at the battle for Arkania, along with his U-Wing’s co-pilot, a blue skinned Gungan named Ricochet Rider; and by his thick Naboo accent, was spoken with a swaggering: Reekoshay Raidah. Lunken and Reekoshay’s U-Wing was one of many in a wide motley gathered by the Lightsworn to aid Jedi Knight Aiden’s Evacuation Flotilla. Kylass slid her silvery Arkanian eyes from the star map out into the vast crater chasm Deep-Echo IV’s Main Hangar Bay was hollowed into, inspecting the Evac Flotilla.

Three GR-75 Medium Transports had been parked in a row towards the massive magnetic field gate of the Main Hangar Bay. An assortment of escorting X-Wings, B-Wings, K-Wings, and Delta-7 Jedi Starfighters were parked in groups around the Medium Transports. Buzzing between the starfighters that held court around the transport starships was a swarm of flatbed transport speeders. Piled crates, sensor array modules, comscan comp-blocks, and pretty much anything else that recorded data from Deep-Echo IV’s time as a listening-post was being hauled from the adjacent Operations Room and into the GR-75’s. The base may be evacuating but they weren’t going to leave valuable equipment, and worse, important intelligence and communications for the Empire to reclaim and investigate.

The rest of the Evac Flotilla, a cadre of CR90 Blockade Runners, and Nebulon-C and Vakbeor-Class frigates, along with whatever else Aiden and Jared Starchaser had brought to bear, was flying close by in patrol routes around the asteroid. It was ad hoc and cobbled, but it was the best they could do outside of formal requisition channels that the Galactic Alliance Navy would have supplied. But the Alliance’s Navy was scattered and their capital ships would have attracted too much attention anyways. They were flying solo and undergunned, but it would have to do.

Lord Inosuke and Lady Henna had commissioned Kylass to lead a Lightsworn Task Force, the first of its kind, the Rogue Lance, to be the escort for the Evac Flotilla. Kylass had squirmed at the appointment. It had been years since she had a command. Not since her time as a Jedi Knight with her master in the New Jedi Order and the Galactic Alliance had she led anything as its commanding officer. But they had impressed upon her that she was ready and it was time for her to move on from her ascetic life in Atrisia.

She had agreed out of obligation, but her reservations still swam in the back of her mind and needled at her nerves. Kylass was now Lord Jedi Seneschal of a small crew of Lightsworn Jedi Knight Errants and Swornguard Commandos, their lives were in her hands and she hadn’t had much time to train them into a unified unit. Kylass bent her lips and tried to think away her qualms over Rogue Lance, as she refocused on the question of the Evac Flotilla’s escape vector out of the Axum System.

“I gots it!” shouted Reekoshay, the Gungan smacked a fist into his open palm to punctuate his moment of answered clarity. “Mistas’ Jedeekrew can use the Shaukken Spar! Is an old war’s lane, not used much these days.”

“The Shawken Spur?” replied Lunken. “Hmm. A short jump should’av land us smack’n’dap in its open flow. That just might work,” Lunken chuckled and looked up to Kylass with a grin.

Kylass looked down at the Ugnaught and then to Ninez. “You know that one Ninez?” asked Kylass. Ninez grunted a low thrumming groan, of course he did. “Show us,” said the Arkanian.

Ninez chortled a chorus of beeps and turned the end of his comp-link. The star map stirred and a bright yellow line bolted from Anaxes and cut along a different line that stretched from Coruscant and strode up into Velusia, Challon and terminated at Wakeemuli, deep and safely, into Galactic Alliance space. Kylass narrowed her gaze at the new escape vector.

Beyond what her seasoned time as a Spacer could deduce and evaluate, she sunk her thoughts into the depths of the Force. She let its ebbs weave between her examinations and tickle her conclusions with insights that Force could conjure in its eddies of permeating energy. Something was wrong. Something she couldn’t quite decipher. The escape vector was sound. Short and sweet, one jump from the edge of the Axum System should land them further up along the Shawken Spur. Still, she had a bad feeling about all this.

“Thoughts? Captain Hiddon?” asked Kylass to the holoprojection of a female Mon Calamari, floating beside the star map. The Force’s naggings had made her second guess things, and some nervous need wanted another one to give the go ahead than her. Kylass internally chastised herself for being so anxious to command. Perhaps her asceticness had made her decision making rusty after all.

Captain Vrenna Hiddon of the MC75 Armored Cruiser, the Mon Barbican, command ship of the Rogue Lance’s portion of the Evac Flotilla, tapped her massive webbed fingers against her wide frowning lips only to wag it later. “Yessh Jedai Sheneschal,” said Captain Hiddon. “This course of eshcape is shatishfactory, should we encounter limited Imperial interscheption.”

Kylass was almost disappointed in the approval of her decision. But there was no time to search the Force for the exact source of the wavering feeling that alarmed her. Kylass raised her arms from their rest on the bulky rim of the projection module and crossed her arms. She gave the star map, the new escape vector, and then the gathered captains of the Evac Flotilla and Rogue Lance’s Knight Errants one long, last look. She sighed and nodded.

“Then so be it,” said Kylass and nudged her head at her R9 companion. “Ninez, share this new escape vector and its accompanying astronavigation calculations to all ships.”

Ninez gave a saluting hoot, Vrenna’s image disappeared, and Kylass walked away to report the updates to the other Evac Flotilla’s Commander Aiden Porte. She strode with her Rogue Lance members. The strike force had been spread out across the Main Hangar Bay and the Operations Room helping gut the place of sensor comps ( Kito ). Some with her were Jedi Knight Errants and members of the starfighter Swornguard Flight Wing. One of which, a Swornguard Commando named Sylith , was an old friend from her days in the Galactic Alliance’s Military as a Jedi attachment to their operations. Kylass stopped and leaned next to the soldier.

“Between you and me, I hope things go on quiet-like,” whispered Kylass. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Lord Seneschal!” yelled a rushing Technician.

Kylass spun around to meet the Technician’s startled eyes. “What is it?” said Kylass.

“HSI alarm,” gasped the Technician, taking a moment to catch his breath. “It’s picking up severe fluctuations from local hyperspace M’am.”

“Call in a High Alert now,” Kylass grimly replied. “And warn Captain Hidon and the Evac Flotilla outside!”

The Technician ran off, shouting out Kylass’ orders before he returned to his station. Shrieking warning claxons began to bellow and a synthesized voice broadcasted the call to High Alert.

Kylass turned back to Sylith. “Assemble the Swornguard Flight-Wing,” said Kylass. “I hate it when I'm right.”​

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[Jared Starchaser]

The strike on Kattada had shaken Jared a bit. He wasn’t the one to be a crusader like his father, but he did care for the Jedi. And their mission. The Oasis ship was still holding around Kattada, providing some additional defense as the Alliance was failing to protect all The Hammerhead, a FarStar-style modified Corellian Corvette was following the Rogue Lance into battle. The Tiburons, a Sullust Galactic Alliance era starfighter squadron was aboard and waiting to launch.

Jared sat in his 6th Generation Jedi Starfighter painted a turquoise, and designed as a fighter-racer, but with its weapons re-installed from time to time, waiting for the go aheads. The A-Wings, E-Wings, and TIE Avengers from the Tiburons were ready to launch. Three flight groups, plus Jared. A new BB unit was set up in the spot. He still had Hopper but needed something for the fighter.

“Tiburons looking green, command.”

“Roger that Starchaser, real space reversion in 5… Picking up static, prepare to launch on arrival.”

 

[Hiram Voss]

WRONG DOOD

 

[Remus Adair]

OBJECTIVE I
Star Destroyer 'Terroriser'
Allies: Soontir Barvel | DT-7747 | Casi Braste
Enemies: Jared Starchaser | Sylith | Kylass Starhaven | Aiden Porte | Mykel Dawson | Kito | Balun Dashiell | Marcus Karrde



Vice Admiral Remus Adair stared blankly into the hyperspace before him. Hands clasped behind his back. It had been decades at the helm of various command ships for various flags but the way the stars were cut to blue ribbons in hyperspace never ceased to be hypnotic. “Reversion in ten!” The navigation crew barked. Remus’ attention was returned back to the present. Now was the time to execute this raid.

“Fighters to their stations.” Adair barked. “I want them launching within the first sixty seconds of arrival. Primed and ready to escort the boarding force.” The Vice Admiral commanded with a harsh tone. There was a bark of affirmation from the dedicated support crew. Adair watched as the hypnotic display ended, and they reverted to real space. There it was, just as the intelligence reports predicted, “Seems the boys in white finally got their ducks in a row.” Remus drily remarked.

“Admiral,” The Sensor Officer took Adair’s attentions from his witty put down, “Mangler is in place sir. Captain Greeve has spooled gravity wells.” The officer reported. As agreed upon the Mangler had immediately activated her interdiction field. The trap was set, now was Remus’ time to shine.

“Have the picket line move and focus their efforts to surrounding the Mangler. Create a perimeter.” Adair commanded, “I want any fighters or bombers who get within range to taste our flak.” He then turned to the comms quadrant of the starboard crew pit, “Prepare a communique, all channels. See if we can bring some of these renegades alive.”

Broadcasting on all frequencies live from the bridge of the star destroyer Terroriser, Remus Adair appeared in full uniform. “Attention all Alliance personnel and their conferderates.” Adair barked in short, sharp imperial diction. “I am Vice Admiral Remus Adair. This sector is now under the quarantine and dominion of the Galactic Empire.” Adair proclaimed, “Surrender now and the Emperor's largesse will see you spared.” Even Adair knew deep down this was an absurd lie. “Attempt to violate this effort and you will be destroyed.” Remus commanded, “At this present moment a peacekeeping force of imperial troops is headed to your hangar. Comply with their instruction and you will be spared. Do not resist. It is futile.”

The transmission ended. They were never going to run with this. The TIE’s now clambered from their hangars, along with troop transports all streaming toward that festering hide-y hole the Jedi had carved out for themselves. “Ready the heavy batteries. Have them trained on any transports that look like they’ll try to escape.”

Fleet:
FLAGSHIP; Terroriser: New Imperial I Class Star Destroyer (x)

Mangler: Interdictor Class Star Destroyer (x)

Argressor: Valiant-Class Star Destroyer (x)

5x Escolta Class Frigates (x)

1x Dragoon Class Frigates (x)

8x Gurkha-Class Corvettes (x)

3x Cacadore-Class Corvettes (x)

 

[Balun Dashiell]

ROGUE LANCE: AMBUSH ON ANAXES
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Allied Coalition Forces & The Galactic Empire

The Asteroid Space Station known as DEEP-ECHO IV had been a covert Jedi Facility, of which Balun Dashiell had never heard before the assignment that he had volunteered for back on Naboo. As the Galactic Empire continued to aggressively expand its borders into the Core Worlds without regard for those within the war machine's sights, Balun had opted to bring supplies to the facility from High Republic Space.

The Nomad Commercial Heavy Freighter was ideally suited for such a task, now sitting within the auxiliary Hangar of Deep-Echo IV. The vessel was silent, except for the echoes of tapping metal feet as the Droid Staff hauled crates and containers of rations and ammunition from the cargo hold. Standing outside of the ship, Balun lit up a cigarra as he watched the Hangar team moving the freight from the Ship and taking it deeper into the Station's interior. He wasn't sure what Deep-Echo IV was purposed for, but given its classified nature, Balun had been all too curious to check the place out while also jumping at the chance to get away from everyday life of Jhaessa Prime and his work with Dashiell Retrofit.

This was more Balun's environment, away from the lavish architecture of the Jedi Temple on Naboo. Walking the durasteel deck of a space station, piloting freight back and forth and living among the stars was what he had always craved as a youth growing up on the cramped industrial planet of Coruscant. Now with his own set of wings and credits in abundance, he was living the independent life of a man with every opportunity going for him. Despite being a Force User, training under a Jedi Master of the Order of Naboo, Balun had his hands in numerous pockets of life. Corporate. Spacer. Jedi. He was a bit of a Jack of all Trades, and certainly a Master of none, while still at the young age of twenty-four years. If it hadn't been for his Father Judah Dashiell , his life would have looked significantly different...

"Hey, you!" someone shouted from afar in Balun's direction, "Get your ass moving, there's an Imperial Fleet headed our way. We need all hands on deck!" they demanded, their voice filled with urgency and the duress that came with the likelihood of an impending fight.

"You've got to be chitting me?!" Balun lowered his cigarra from his mouth, staring across the Hangar floor in astonishment as he exclaimed, "I've only just bloody arrived...". The attack against Naboo from the Black Sun Syndicate was only days fresh in his shadow, and now he was once again being thrust headfirst into yet another fight against the Empire. It seemed his life was built upon stories of close shaves of the Imperial kind.

'This was supposed to be a simple supply run...', he thought as he quickly doubled back towards the loading ramp of his ship, seeking to grab his Lightsaber and Blaster from the cockpit.

​

Task Force "Rebel Dawn".
DEEP-ECHO IV.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the durasteel corridors of Deep-Echo IV Asteroid Base as Captain La'das Beiran led his Squad towards the Primary Hangar of the Space Station in preparation for the emergency evacuation. Accompanied by Lieutenant Ewan Whitley, Sergeant Reuben Fletcher, Private Isabella Johnson and Private Oscar Buckley, the team's heavy movements were emphasised by the lofty munitions and equipment that they carried.

Rebel Dawn was a military squad that had been reassigned to active duty during the days of the Tingel Arm Coalition, in which they partook in open warfare against the Dark Empire and the Empire of the Lost. Back then, Captain Beiran had been fighting alongside a much younger and greener Balun Dashiell within the greater Rebel Outfit. Today, however, the Squad had become something of a mercenary unit, independent from government or political regimes. It focused on going where they were most needed, in an effort to combat the Imperials' continued oppression of the Galaxy. They had found themselves aboard Deep-Echo IV not by chance, but by service, as the listening post resided within the Core, which had become a sector of the Galaxy, plunged into open conflict since the Empire's victory over Coruscant.

The Squad arrived on scene within the primary hangar, Captain Beiran immediately springing into action as he began barking instructions to his men. "Whitley, get the T-21 secured and cover the entrance. Buckley and Johnson, I want you two to create some cover for us. We're guarding the entrance until backup arrives. If chit gets too heavy, this will be one of two ways off the Station, and I wanna make damn sure our people get out in one piece! Fletcher, get on the comm's and coordinate with Allied Forces".

The Squad didn't hesitate, setting up a holding position roughly fifty meters from the entrance. The two Privates began moving some freight around, seeking any loose cargo they could and shifting it all to stack up alongside the T-21 Light Repeater that the Lieutenant was securing atop the tripod. Together they would all hunker down, blaster rifles shouldered and ready to either greet fellow personnel aboard the Asteroid Station, or gun down opposition troops seeking to cut them off from EVAC.

Jedi Master: Ala Quin
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Casi Braste]

Allies: DT-7747
Enemies: Mykel Dawson / Balun Dashiell / Kito / Aiden Porte​

Onboard the ISD Terroriser

Boots clattered on the hangar floor as the All-Hands on Deck call was given, pilots rushing to their rigs, crewman frantically pulling out fuel lines and scaffolding, all while the bright white Imperial stormtroopers stood stone-still in formation. Casi stood slightly raised above them on the ramp of the shuttle next to Sergeant Hela Donnall, her liaison to all things combat.

Casi had never led troops before, or anyone, really. She had never been old enough to take a padawan, nor had she ever been a Jedi General, but now she presided over an Imperial Assault Platoon. She was keenly aware that this was another test for her induction into the Dark Side Elite, something that made Sgt. Donnall's presence even moreunderstandable. Ostensibly, the Sergeant was leading a squad of military police, but she was only a sergeant to the troops. In reality she ranked as a Special Agent of the Imperial Security Bureau, embedded in the military, a walking propaganda poster, and a true, stern Imperial loyalist. Casi couldn't help but feel the Sergeant was there to watch her as much as she was to arrest dissidents.

Casi surveyed the troops in front of her, four perfect squares of drilled formation. The closer two squads carried their classic Bozdugan rifles, the staple weapon of the Stormtroopers for decades. One of the squads wore lighter armor than the other, without helmet but rather sporting headset and earpieces. They were Hela's embedded ISB Tac-Squad, more police than soldiers. Behind those two squads were the heavy assault squads, augmented each with a detail of heavy repeating blaster operators.

Casi's nerves were alight, with the thought of these soldiers turning their weapons on her if she slipped up. But if they succeeded on this mission, she would be one step closer to proving herself.

"Lady Braste, give the men their briefing." the voice of Sgt. Donnall spoke up, cold and mechanical, with a clockwork urgency.

Casi took a deep breath in. She'd rehearsed it in her head a hundred times already.

"This station, Deep-Echo 4, has been declared property of the Empire and is to be immediately and swiftly expropriated as eminent domain of the Emperor! Any civilians aboard the station are to be considered Imperial citizens, and the ISB has given us the authority to detain as necessary," Casi looked to Sgt. Donnall, then back to the troops, "any civilians caught attempting to leave aboard non-Imperial vessels shall be arrested. Any non-Imperial combatant who utilizes the Force or is in possession of a Lightsaber is to be considered a Jedi, and an enemy of the state. Lethal force is expected." Casi took another deep breath at the end of the spiel she had memorized.

"Expect them to put up a fight. We'll be landing in their secondary hangar bay. Your first job will be to secure it. May the Force be with you." Casi noticed out of the corner of her eye the screwed up face Sgt. Donnall tried to suppress as Casi blessed them. Despite how loud the hangar was, there was an an awkward quiet in the immediate vicinity of their shuttle.

Casi turned and entered the landing craft, followed in single file by the orderly soldiers. Only after all of them boarded did Sgt. Donnall join them. Casi made her way immediately to the cockpit.

"Welcome aboard, Lady Braste." the pilot greeted, "our hangar-to-hangar jump is expected to take seven minutes in total. Please take a seat, we are expecting turbulence."

Casi took the unoccupied chair behind the co-pilot and strapped herself in. Her hand instinctively reached for her lightsaber as the anxiety of the mission built, only to find an unfamiliar feeling beneath her fingers. The hilt was not her own, but one she had not grown accustomed to have on her belt. The plain black hilt of the saber hid something within that to her felt so wrong, but it was pertinent to the mission: a red kyber crystal. It was the lightsaber she had taken as a trophy, that had once belonged to the Dark Side Elite who she had slain, the event which had ultimately led her to taking that man's place among the Emperor's Chosen. But it was not hers, no, her Jedi weapon was lightyears away aboard the Sepulchre, the flagship of the Elite. Its blue crystal would raise too many questions she knew, and she feared that it would only lead to her soldiers mistaking her for a Jedi in the midst of the fight.

The pilots engaged the systems and counted down to the launch, and the shuttle took the air, smoothly unfurling itself wings as it left the hangar. Three TIE fighters flanked the shuttle in formation, one on either side and one behind. Even with an escort Casi worried as she beheld the sight. The asteroid base's main hangar spewed forth ships of all kinds, some of which she knew had to be piloted by Jedi, the best pilots in the galaxy. Casi had never been one for space travel to begin with, so the short jaunt through the vacuum was going to feel dreadfully long and tense...

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Location: Hangar 2
Objective: Awaiting Contact (Duel)
Allies: Jedi and Friends ( Balun Dashiell )
Opposition: Galactic Empire
Directly Engaging: Casi Braste
Personal Equipment:
-Katarn Armor
-Lightwhip
-Shatterpistol
-Kessel's Kiss
-Durasteel Combat Knives x 2
-Plasma Grenades (3), Glop Grenades (3)

Then

What was meant to be a quick pit stop on the way to the contested Colonies region had now earned Mykel and his strike team a first row seat to an impending siege. They could have flown straight back out of the base just as quickly they had entered, but that wasn't their way. They would help screen for the other evacuees, fully understanding the implications of doing so.

After a brief sitrep in the Ops Center, Mykel convened with the Jedi and squad leaders of his strike team to disseminate orders. Normally the Consular was more open to feedback, but they were short on time.

"It's a foregone conclusion that the Imps are going to take this base," he explained, "So no heroics. We'll live to fight another day. The Ops Center needs to scrub their databanks, so our primary objective is buying enough time for them to do so. If we fail, then the Imps can use the data to map out the rest of the network and their assets in theater."

He brought up a mini-projector from his utility belt, displaying a hologram of a 3D rendering of the internal asteroid layout.

"I told Ops that we'll assist in defending Hangar 2. As you can see from the blueprint, we have a handful of large chambers connected by a series of narrow tunnels that end with turbolifts in vertical shafts that lead up to the hangar area."

"Knight Veyra and Noryn, you take Squads Cresh and Dorn to plant explosives in the tunnels and secondary shafts (e.g. vents) and establish kill boxes with mines and heavy weapons at the choke points. Be mindful of evacuees moving through the tunnels. As for Knight Deril and I, we'll head up to the hangar area with Aubrek and Bresh to establish the first line of contact with other defenders. This should also buy Cresh and Dorn enough time to get set up."

"Like I said, this just a delaying action. We give them hell, but we're also not here to make last stands. If they start to overrun our positions, then we fall back to the next line, and so on. If the purging isn't complete by the time we reach the last position, then we'll just glass the databanks ourselves."

"As for egress...it's admittedly sketchy." He highlighted some narrow maintenance shafts and crawlspaces that could lead out to the main hangar for a final escape. But of course any known open pathway to the defenders was also possibly accessible by the enemy if discovered. It was an absolute nightmare scenario. "Let's see how bad this gets but we may have to get creative."

"Alright, dismissed. May the Force be with you."

The strike team quickly dispersed throughout the tunnels to complete their assignments. They were on a severe time crunch, the Imps catching Jedi with their pants down and all, but no one whined or faltered in the face of overwhelming odds. Each Antarian Ranger* present had nerves of steel - they had to if they were willingly following the Jedi by choice knowing all the occultish horrors they would encounter.

Moving with his squads, Mykel was calm. Perhaps some youthful delusion of invincibility was at play, but his serenity came from a deeper source. The defeat at Coruscant had been crushing, yet it had not been the end. As long as he drew breath, then no defeat was final, and he would carry himself as that way into all conflicts.

*Each Antarian Ranger is outfitted with Katarn Commando Armor, standard weapons, and explosives. Very similar to their Imperial assault counterpart.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Echo IV Listening Post
Tags: Jared Starchaser Kylass Starhaven Mykel Dawson Kito Balun Dashiell Marcus Karrde Sylith
Enemies: Remus Adair Soontir Barvel DT-7747 Casi Braste

​

The Echo IV listening post shuddered faintly as another shuttle detached from its docking clamps, the sound carried more through durasteel than air. Jedi Knight Aiden Porte stood at the viewport, hands clasped loosely behind his back, watching the glow of thrusters vanish into the pale streaks of hyperspace. Each vessel carried frightened families, technicians, and troopers stripped of their weapons, bound for safer havens. The hangar decks below him were alive with hurried footsteps, shouts, and the rasp of cargo skids being pushed to their limits.

In the Force, the station felt taut, stretched thin like a bowstring. Fear hummed beneath the surface, orderly, but urgent. He let it wash over him, breathing it in, breathing it out, trying to anchor himself against the tide.

The comm station flickered, and a harried officer's voice cut through the noise.

"Aiden! Long-range sensors confirm multiple signatures dropping out of hyperspace. Imperial code. They'll be here soon."

The words settled like frost. He did not flinch. Instead, he straightened, gaze sweeping once more over the fleeing shuttles. The work wasn't finished, not yet. Every life still aboard depended on time, and time was already slipping through their fingers. As many times has he had been back and forth shuttling those lives to and from the core worlds to safe have, it was only a matter of time before his luck would run out.

"Get what fighters we can in the skies, I will stay here and hold out against any boarding parties. Continue evacuations as planned, but with much more haste." The Jedi Knight stood vigilant as he reached out with the force to his allies.

May the force be with us all...

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Feeling the call of his squadron on the comms was a great feeling. Jared was not trying to be his father, he was trying to lead the Tide of Light, something different than the Sullust Alliance, something different from the Lightsworn, but a group of Jedi and other Forcers who were trying to deliver the Light all the same. And the fact that he was using a squadron that was once his father’s? It was more an homage and a chance to do it right this time.

The Tiburons were folded into Warbird Wing, the Wing, however, stayed with his father aboard the Dawn Chaser out in its mission on Xelec. Away from the galaxy, allowed to reach the Force how they wanted. Some were dark, but in a… light adjacent way. It was how he was trained. Complete the mission, protect Csillia, even though it was lost, and now? Save as many people as they could. The Tiburons? They were an Underground team.

Pilots with a variety of fighters, and a variety of backgrounds. Some were racers, others were former smugglers taking up a starfighter role, some still smuggled, but left their craft back at the Oasis. Others still were former Imperial officers, from either the Chiss Ascendancy, and paramilitaries from Imperial warlords seeing just how bad they were making the galaxy. The fighters loaded up here were varied from each of those groups. Four A-Wings, Four E-Wings, and Four TIE Avengers, various liveries, but all having a constant. A dark blue and white fin, from a shark of Corellia.

They’d been assembled for months, but Jared was only recently flying with them, as opposed to launching them from the Oasis. He was a Starchaser, a pilot, and a fighter. Though he normally was just off hunting, he knew he had to be here for some things.

“Tiburons, launch!”

 

[Wedge Draav]

SWORNGUARD FLIGHT WING

FLYING A STOLEN ALLIANCE REVENANT SQUADRON X-WING

WEDGE DRAAV FLIES AGAIN

​

He came out of Hyperspace just in time to see the opening salvo going from the arriving Imperial fleets. He narrowed his eyes behind his helmet.

Anaxes was his home.

Anaxes was his home.

Not the Alliance. That wasn't home. No, the rocky terrain of Anaxes was his home and the Imperials dared tread on it. And today, he didn't need to win, he didn't need to help the Lightsworn secure a victory- no. They just needed to hold out. To survive. He rolled his X-wing, painted that terrifying black and dark orange- into attack position. A contingent of TIE fighters came out, in a wedge attack formation. He took out the right most, causing the first two to split off. The lead TIE was taken out by another rebel fighter- and the third retreated back to friendly lines.

Wedge banked his X-wing hard, skirting the friendly rebel vessels with a dangerously close flyby- coming with mere feet of the hull in some cases. He grinned, the speed at which he was going downright dangerous. He kicked on his comms, and his grin could be heard over the radio.

"Wedge Draav, on station."

He waited a second, then clicked it on again.

"The Wedge Draav, on station."

Of course, he had to throw it in there so they knew it was really Wedge in the cockpit. The flying skills may not have been enough.

​

 

[Sylith]

“I hate it when I'm right.”

"Least you're consistent?" Sylith joked with a grin. "Wrong would have been better, though."

The commando had already been suited up, one arm slung over her helmet, ready to move. Never did seem to stop, in an operation like this, especially not when strippin' it whole. Fatigue had been taking its hold before the alarm, but its blare amped her up more than any number of caffs could have. With a slap on the back, Sylith turned from Kylass to the ships behind.

"C'mon, now. It's go time."

“At this present moment a peacekeeping force of imperial troops is headed to your hangar. Comply with their instruction and you will be spared. Do not resist. It is futile.”

As the fighter helmet was pulled over ginger locks, Sylith's comms caught the tail end of the broadcast. Wrinkles formed between her brow with the scowl that took hold behind an amber visor.

"Sure is a chipper one, too." She noted, before picking up into a jog right over to her starfighter.

Preflight checks were accompanied by immediate chaos. In numbers, soldiers through the hangar, making their way to one task or another. Alarm had given way to robotic warnings and reminders, her favorite of which mentioned your unit was a built-in buddy system. Frenzied chirps rose from her astrodroid's position as the redhead clambered into the pilot's seat. It was drowned by the sound of engines roaring to life beneath her hand as the canopy lowered.

"Yes, I know, BB, this does make things harder." Yelled in reassurance over the noise. "Don't worry, though, bud. Kylass has seen us through it before; she'll do it again."

“Tiburons, launch!”

"The Wedge Draav, on station."

Friendly chatter rolled over the comms as the excitement started to unfold. Man, they were too slow. These guys were gonna steal their thunder.

<<Lance 2, ready. On your mark, Lance Leader.>>

 

[Balun Dashiell]

ROGUE LANCE: AMBUSH ON ANAXES OBJ: 2.
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
ALLIES: Mykel Dawson | Aiden Porte | Kylass Starhaven
OPPOSITION: Casi Braste | The Galactic Empire

"This is Sergeant Reuben Fletcher of Rebel Dawn, to all allied Personnel. Please be advised that friends are occupying the Primary Hangar. A heavy Imperial presence has been detected, and transports are preparing for an emergency evacuation. All personnel are strongly advised to depart as soon as possible".

The broadcast opened up across Balun Dashiell's commlink, the familiar voice sounding from the device's clipped position on his belt. Task-Force Rebel Dawn was aboard the Asteroid Station, and by some stroke of fate, the opportunity to fight once more beside the team had presented itself. Reports were coming in regarding the Imperial Fleet, an imminent attack upon the base, which heightened tensions for the young man exponentially.

Despite his skill in combat, Balun wasn't someone who thirsted for bloodshed. He yearned to be a deterrent to violence, yet things rarely played out in diplomatic favour. War was something that he knew how to engage in, far too well for someone so young and over the last six years, the mental and emotional scars had started to seep through the cracks of his metaphorical mask, which his family and closest friends had begun to take note of.

"Fletcher, this is Balun Dashiell. I'm en route to your position," Bale responded across the commlink as he sprinted down the durasteel corridors of the vast space station, following the signage that pointed staff in the direction of the primary Hangar. The coming fight wouldn't be easy, yet having trusted comrades at his side would alleviate some of the burden, and there were few soldiers he knew better than La'das Beiran's team.

He wasn't alone in the intersecting halls of the durasteel giant; base personnel and security were all on the move, some of whom were headed to the known evacuation points, while others were running in the opposite direction, preparing to create chokepoints to slow the Imperials' advance within the base.

Moving past viewing ports, he could hear and even caught sight of a Fighter Squadron as they shot by, either forming defensive positions in orbit of the base or perhaps moving to intercept the fleet itself. 'Watch out for yourselves out there,' he thought, knowing just how dangerous it was to be a Starfighter Pilot within combat. The life expectancy during times of war had never been encouraging.

Jedi Master: Ala Quin
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Casi Braste]

Allies: DT-7747
Enemies: Mykel Dawson / Balun Dashiell / Kito / Aiden Porte
​

The shimmering blue energy field of the hangar came into view, built right in to the bare rock of the asteroid. Compared to the main hangar it wasn't only quiet, but silent. Perhaps they had seen the Imperial boarding party coming and correctly chosen to abandon their position, or maybe they had dug in for the arrival.

"Excuse me gentlemen. Continue course." Casi said getting up from her chair and leaving the cockpit.

In the crew seats, she found not one soldier seated, but rather the assault platoon preparing for their quick exit. Sgt. Donnall was barking orders at them.

"... and the arrest of partisans is of TOP priority! The Jedi will be moving as many civilian shuttles past the navy's lines as they can. They are a secondary objective! Detaining this station's communications crew and its officers is the primary target, so that we can track these traitors to their destinations!" the ISB agents words were never minced, and her team listened intently. Casi couldn't be sure the same of the stormtroopers, who dutifully inspected their weapons one last time before landing.

Donnall noticed Casi's entrance, and turned to her.

"Miss Braste. How do you feel? Are you nervous?" the Sergeant asked facetiously, "You aren't worried what will happen if you encounter a former comrade of yours?"

Casi knew full-well the Sergeant was trying to get a rise out of her, but she wasn't wrong. Casi was worried, because the reality of having to face a Jedi she knew had already been lived through, when the Jedi had attack the Sepulchre. Casi couldn't let herself hesitate again in such a case.

"Leave off it, Sergeant. I'll remind you that without me, you'd be at the mercy of those Jedi. The Padawans they train these days could decimate your unit." Casi retorted with a fake smile, lowering a hand to her lightsaber and taking it from her belt.

As they came to the hangar, the tension was like a held breath. There was no immediate fire against them, the republic soldiers no doubt waiting in ambush for the doors to open into a chokepoint.

While the landing craft made its final touch onto the deck, Casi could see that two stormtroopers closest to the ramp had set up their heavy repeating blasters in firing position. Each had another soldier loading their weapons, ready to feed them more ammunition as needed.

The fluorescent light of the hangar bay seeped in as in the ramp cracked open, its whining hydraulic hiss lower it to the deck. As soon as the ramp had reached about halfway to the floor, giving a clear line of sight, the heavies pulled their triggers and a deadly wave of blaster fire rang out, sweeping the hangar indiscriminately. The game was up, and enemies through the hangar began to reveal their positions with hastily returned fire.

As the shuttle ramp touched deck, the energizing vrooom of Casi's lightsaber painted the interior with a sinister red glow. As the heavies depleted their first unloading of rounds into the enemy position, Casi lept forth, flying from the shuttle to land at the base of the ramp, deflecting a few of the haphazard enemy shots. They were scared, she could tell by the way they shot that their trigger fingers were firing on fear, not discipline.

Behind her, the stormtroopers flooded out of the landing crafts and immediately took to the battlefield.

"Overwhelm them! Take the hangar, then push forward!"

​