The wreckage above Endor

[Desmond C'artyom]

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"]

Desmond C’artyom floated listlessly through the open void of space. He was adorned in his Inferno commando armor. It provided him enough oxygen to traverse the debris field and to breathe adequately. He and Inferno One had sashayed mountains of rubble, debris, and corpses frozen in time in search of the ship that would put an end to their mission. It was only after hours of searching that they finally found it.

A large burned and rusted hull of a slab of metal. Desmond and squad entered the wreckages bridge with a battery pack in tow. They set down next to the bridge's canopy, the bridge was already torn asunder enough that they could see most of the expenseless void of space, it was as if someone had lit a candle vigil for those who had died here. Hundreds of stars shown brightly in the twilight sky.

Des approached a nearby terminal, then plugged the battery pack into the computer and it came to life with a soft whir. After a few minutes of scrolling through data Desmond confirmed the ship was indeed the Devastator and hailed the Imperial mothership.

“Admiral Thrael, this is Major C’artyom. We have located the devastator…” He said simply and patiently awaited the admiral’s return call.

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

The Devastator. Famous among the records of the questionably legendary Galactic Empire, the flagship of Lord Vader that had crushed resistance at Scariff and participated in the Battle of Endor. While many considered it to be no better than a standard class Star Destroyer, little dissuaded the Chiss' mind from the possibility that it proved far more powerful.

If not intimidating.

It had taken time to consider which ships to bring into First Order space, but after what had been a brief delegated period of deliberation he had made his move. While he was still mildly unfamiliar with them, despite extensive investigation, Inferno One had been elected as the most proficient for the task at hand. Even still, as he approached the bridge to observe his would be prize, he leveled his ambition with caution.

Only moments after he'd entered the bridge, taking position with arms clasped at his back, the comms officer ushered his attention. Briskly closing the distance to the command deck, the Chiss glanced out over the expanse of debris and pressed his finger against the receiver; an eerily confident glint in his eye amidst the red hue.

"Very good, Major. What is it's condition, considering it's extended stay in this graveyard?" He breathed as he kept one hand behind his back, his posture firm in contrast to the majority of officers and technicians he assigned to his bridge command.

"Once the systems analysis is done, I expect a full assessment of the Devastator's hull." He continued, demanding but with consideration to his tone to avoid being oppressive. "We do not want to tow an irreparable hulk."

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom received the Transmission from Thrael and he scowled slightly. He would never understand the Ascendency types. They were all hot or not kinds of people. Even so Desmond did not question the orders he received. After all they were sensible and to the point. Concise and very forward. But still, there was an air of arrogance about Thrael as he spoke that irked Des. The agent could already tell the Admiral was condescending and lacking compassion for his comrades.

Regardless Desmond surveyed the terminal once more and searched for anything that might be crippling to the vessel at large. He found nothing aside from extensive bridge damage, (Which he needn't even check the computer for, all he had to do was look up and he could see the endless expanse of stars before him, as the ship’s bridge was carved neatly in half). Even so, the shield generators that stood so close to the bridge were also blown. Desmond eyed the terminal with a curious red gaze one last time before finally reporting back to his superior. The ship was salvageable.

“The ship can be made into working order sir,” He said simply, and awaited further instructions.

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"]

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

Lifting his hand away from the receiver and carefully placing it behind his back once more, the Chiss turned his attention fully to the expanse of debris that stared back at him from the viewport. It only took her a few moments to fully assess the hull for himself from the distance his ship had been settled from it, but it was the crew on board that would provide the final call. While a ship like the Devastator could well have been kept soundly intact, he had to keep in mind the condition of the bridge.

While Imperial Destroyers were famous for their structural design and durability, it was argued that their bridge and shield generators were far more vulnerable than was actually necessary. And so, as he took a few steps up from the command deck to the viewport, he quietly stood in observation of a ship that meant more to him than he could relate.

It was the call of the comms officer that pulled him away once more, drawing his attention back to the investigation at hand.

"Captain, ask the Major his opinion on how best we remove the Devastator," he breathed and turned his head back to the viewport, eyeing the point where he knew the bridge to be with a narrowed focus. "He has seen the damage first hand, however I wish to contemplate his decision."

Time was meaningless, the expanse of space and hollowness of the graveyard before him the only obstacle that posed a relevant threat. The Devastator was well within their grasp.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond searched the bridge for anything out of the ordinary. He found nothing as he scanned the terminal with both hands splayed across the display screen. He used two fingers from his left hand to scroll through the data and still found nothing that could endanger the remains of the ship.

“I believe tractor beams should work,” Desmond said as his hands were still spread across the terminal.

The cold depths of space were starting to seep into his suit and Des was ready to return home. The flight suit could only keep out so much cold… And could only keep in so much oxygen. Desmond decided to make a crucial call.

“Inferno One returning to base,” Desmond uttered as his arms moved from the terminal and towards his biceps.

Rubbing up and down so as to preserve warmth. Desmond eyed the expanse of space warily as he and team jettisoned from the ship bridge and headed towards the Imperial fleet. It wouldn’t be that much longer. All they had to do was reel the Devastator in.

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Outer Rim Territories \\ Moddell Sector \\ Endor​

FIV Pursuit \\ Locust-class Torpedo Frigate​

Moddell Sector Patrol Group \\ Patrol Group Tracker​

​

The quiet hum of the ship's engines had almost drawn the Commander into a trance, deck officers and other staff went about their assigned tasks with little interruption. *Like a well oiled machine* thought Gerhard. He had a reputation for running one of the tightest ships in the First Order's fleet, regardless of what vessel he commanded. Having been moved from a task force, the Commander had been re-assigned to a patrol group. More and more frequently the First Order had found themselves spread thin, their response had been a more agile and light patrol force - so far it had proven quite effective. Most patrol forces were capable of handling the average encounter within Order space, and should they require assistance there was almost always a task force within a few minutes of hyperspace travel. Today's patrol group consisted of a small handful of ships. A Locust-class Torpedo Frigate, her sister ship, the FIV Tracker, and three FIPV-9 Patrol vessels.

So far the several week long patrol had been uneventful. They were lucky to have a contact a day, and over the last few days it had been only the most routine - inspections, license checks, and the odd assistance call. Today was shaping up to be more of the same. Having spent much of their patrol pattern in other parts of the sector, Endor was one of the last few checkpoints before they turned their prows towards home.

Rousing himself from his momentary trance, Commander Maxim's eyes tracked across the bridge. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, wholly engrossed in their tasks. Comms chatter from various parts of the frigate could be heard softly from where the comm station was. From where he stood he held a commanding view over the screens and staff before him, easily able to communicate with his crew. Augmenting his ability was the Commander's console. Technically the auxiliary, he stood to use it, unlike the console at the Captain's chair which was the primary. Commander Maxim preferred to stand. Briefly eyeing the data readouts, his attention was drawn towards a proximity alert.

\\ PROXIMITY ALERT \\ DEBRIS FIELD DETECTED ON CURRENT HEADING \\ ADJUSTMENT RECOMMENDED \\​

​

Before he'd even finished reading the alert, a voice was risen, his con officer called out the alert. In short order it had been acknowledged and a course correction had been made. In same time, the command issued by the Patrol Group Commander was transmitted to the other vessels.

:: Patrol Group Tracker, adjust course thirty degrees starboard, bring us up five degrees. Keep your eyes open for any stray debris. ::​

​

​

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Mitth'rae'leios"]​

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

No sooner had the Chiss taken note of the salvage operations, contemplating the method of recovery, had he noticed a scrambling from the surveillance deck. Turning on his heels with a light click and glancing towards the nearest officer, he watched as the officer made a bee line to the station in question to investigate what had sent them into a panic. While his men appeared occupied with the possibility of danger, the Chiss instead chose to focus on pertinence of the matter at hand.

Before the officer had had the moment to bring the information to his attention, the Chiss had closed the distance from command to surveillance. The officer stiffened, the crew quieted and the Chiss stepped quietly towards the console in question.

"Captain, it would appear our friends have arrived ahead of schedule." He mused as he addressed his own concern before the other man's anxiety. Punching in a few codes the Chiss, spinning and returning briskly to his previous position, left the crew members in a state of bewilderment as he seemingly disregarded the presence of the friendly signals.

With another quick movement, and a consideration for the allies he still had yet to fully acquaint himself with, he reacquainted himself with the communication deck and the console with which he could contact the new arrivals.

When the time was right.

Pulling back from his work, distancing himself to a reasonable space for the others to work, the Chiss drew in a breath and looked to the captain who had kept at his heels.

"Await contact from the First Order patrols," he breathed as he turned and looked through the viewport and at the large amount of debris floating before them. "Broadcast friendly signals on all relevant channels and begin the salvage operation when Inferno One docks. I want the Devastator prepared for extraction before we are finished with any discussion with the First Order."

With that he moved up to the command deck once more and poised himself to oversee the salvage operation of the Devastator Star Destroyer. While it was a risky move, he was confident that a collective of Skrilling Class Salvage Vehicles would suffice for success. It was the First Order however, that proved a concern that could be variably remedied.

Now, he need only wait.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Gerhard Maxim"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom used his oxygen pack to jettison through space. His armor providing only the thinnest of protection between himself and the void. Through the inkling depths of the unknown he and Inferno one traversed the debris field. Desmond spied another ship moving around the field that was not one of the salvage ships the Empire had brought with them.

That made it First Order, which worried Desmond very little. They were after all allies and the Imperials had come only with a fleet of scavenger vessels. Desmond pondered hailing the First Order patrol, but dained it unnecessary and above his pay grade. Des and team reached the mothership, a Skrilling class boat, and prepared to enter the airlock. They latched to the hull of the ship with mag boots and patiently awaited the door to slide open and allow them admittance.

When it did Inferno One entered the room and waited for it to pressurize and the like. Desmond rubbed his shoulders as they waited, he always found the chill of open space unbearable, even with internal heating units and thermal layers. Inferno One exited the airlock and made their way towards the bridge. Desmond found the admiral at his post and the agent saluted him smartly.

“Sir, the wreckage is intact and ready to be removed,” Desmond said in his rich Imperial accent.

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"] / [member="Gerhard Maxim"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Outer Rim Territories \\ Moddell Sector \\ Endor​

FIV Pursuit \\ Locust-class Torpedo Frigate​

Moddell Sector Patrol Group \\ Patrol Group Tracker​

​

Patrol Group Tracker slipped carefully around the close edge of the salvage fields, the largest of the debris stationary. Small specks of light could be seen flashing as the smallest of rocks and pebbles were vaporized upon contact with the ship's shields. It wasn't uncommon for smugglers or runners to hide within the fields to escape detection, but usually they left a tra--

"Unknown contact, twenty degrees off the port bow. Five hundred meters."​

​

A subtle electronic spike had cued one of the bridge officers. The calm demeanor of the bridge shifted in an instant, any semblance of relaxation done away with as the report was given. Commander Maxim's eyes darted to the readouts, what had initially been one contact had turned into what might have been several. Amidst the field of debris it was hard to tell. Stuck outside the condensed field, they wouldn't be able to get much better scans unless they could somehow get inside the outer edge - in a frigate, that wasn't about to happen.

:: Deploy Sheikh Squadron, flights one and two only. Get me eyes inside that debris field now. ::​

​

Already primed and ready, the fighter craft mounted on two of the FIPV-9 vessels simultaneously launched. Eight TIE/FO MK-III's dropped from their ventral surface and screamed towards the debris field, and active comm line established with not only the patrol vessels but piped directly to Commander Maxim's HUD and Comm. Already his console displayed the fighters and their trajectory, the combined battlespace readout providing a detailed and complete picture for the Commander. Already several of the unknown signals were beginning to solidify though identification wasn't yet possible. He narrowed his eyes, keying up a general transmission towards the mass of debris on an open channel.

:: Unidentified Vessels. This is Commander Maxim of the Moddel Sector Patrol Group - Identify yourselves immediately. ::​

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Mitth'rae'leios"]​

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

Even an easily remedied situation's outcome was difficult to predict. Sound of mind, the Chiss acknowledge this circumstance as the sounds of alarms continued to blare throughout the bridge. Yet, even then, he remained calm and composed with a confidence that left his closest officers fumbling for excuses. It appeared the First Order were as keen as Imperial to defend their sectors.

An admirable trait.

It was amidst the alarms and scrambling of his crew that the Chiss noticed Major C'artyom's return. Apt and precise, as most imperials were, his report was delivered and a small smile curved the Chiss' lips.

"You've done well, Major. See to it that you and your unit collect yourselves," he breathed as he passed them in a smooth walk to the communications deck. "I have no doubt that our friends will not be expecting us. It would seem they've already relayed an investigation squadron."

Stiffening his posture slightly he brought one arm across his chest, planted the others elbow against it and gently raised a partially closed hand in front of his chin. The signals continued to be broadcast to the First Order vessels, faked easily by the most skilled of smugglers, and yet he felt a confidence in the markings he had specifically requested be adorned upon the hull of the lead Skrilling vessel. With that in mind, he stepped toward the nearest console and opened a communication.

:: Commander Maxim, this is Rear Admiral Thrael of the Imperial Navy. Prepare to receive identification via secure channel. Our vessels are unarmed salvage vehicles and pose no threat to your patrol. ::

Releasing his finger from the console, slowly drawing his hand back up to his chin after executing his private relay, the Chiss paused to contemplate what more he had to say to the First Order officer. He was thus far impressed by their response time, and of course curious more so by their military tactics, and outwardly displayed this by moving to better see the patrol where it loomed at the edge of the debris field. Perhaps haste had been the wrong choice in executing such a dangerous salvage mission, yet he could not deny that there was an intrigue in testing the response of those he would call his allies.

Nothing was more important than being prepared for the unexpected. Even for an experienced naval commander.

[member="Gerhard Maxim"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[SIZE=11pt]Desmond C’artyom nodded to the admiral and began to make his way towards the locker room. The ship had literally no weapons, so if the First Order patrol were to mistake them for smugglers or other miscreants than they would surely be doomed. Still Desmond felt a familiar calm in his bones. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He had died countless times and each time the Empire cloned him and recovered the data from the memory chip embedded deep within his mind. He and Inferno One, whom were actually just more clones of himself, had similar memory chips within their skulls. They all had memories from the original Desmond and those of the memories they had made themselves. It had never occurred to Desmond how horrid others might find his existence. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]To serve, die, and serve again in a endless cycle. Each time “Desmond” died another was made and whoever claimed the mantle of squad lead recieved the right to call himself “Desmond”. So, callsign Reaper/Desmond found himself fearing very little from his potential demise, for he knew he would only be recreated. He and squad made it to the locker room and began to dress down. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Desmond dressed in his BDU and stalked out of the locker room and headed back towards the bridge. While he was not concerned for his own safety, he found it imperative to make sure Admiral Thrael at least made it out alive in the event of an attack.[/SIZE]

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"] / [member="Gerhard Maxim"]

 

[Progflaw99]

The deployed fighter craft ducked and weaved between hulks of space debris and asteroids, their scanner data being transmitted in real-time to the bridge of the FIV Pursuit. As they closed in on the source of the erroneous signals a burst of clear data was picked up and displayed before Commander Maxim on the bridge. His eyes narrowed at first, his jaw setting. *The Empire* he thought silently to himself. He waited for several moments as the fighters continued to close the distance. Soon they would be within weapons range, and unless given the command to hold they were liable to fire. With a deep breath, Commander Maxim keyed down the transmitter. As much as he would have liked to have his own little personal fireworks show, his personal whims and fancies weren't to be - the First Order had gone forward despite the cropping up of the Galactic Empire, rallied around a defector. It was a complex story, one that the Commander might have been able to discuss for hours but right now he needed to address the unfolding situation at hand.

:: Sheikh Squadron, this is Sheikh Actual. Do not engage vessels within the salvage field. Repeat, do not engage. ::​

​

Soon enough the TIE pilots would lay eyes on the vessels, no doubt still on edge. It wasn't often one found members of the Galactic Empire this far across the galaxy - especially without a pre-approved flight plan. *What are they up to out here...*. As the scans began to come in more completely, Gerhard began to understand the full scope of the situation, a strange one no doubt, but one that he could see. As the First Order TIE's assumed a containment vector, Commander Maxim responded to the voice on the other end of the comm, his voice cold.

:: Rear Admiral Thrael. Your identification is received. :: A pause. ::Might I inquire as to what it is you are doing out here, without direct approval of the First Order Navy? ::​

​

Already the Commander could tell they were there for salvage of some sort, and as he waited for a response he held back a chuckle. No - no that's not why they were here was it? His eyes read the readouts across his console closely, the scan data from his fighters revealing something rather strange, strange and amusing.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Mitth'rae'leios"]​

 

[GalacticNiv]

Location: Hyperspace approaching Endor​

​

After a brief rendezvous at Codian Moon, Strike Squadron had decided their next move. Skilled communications officers and slicers had worked hand in hand for weeks now, trying to intercept the heavily encrypted transmissions of the Galactic Empire and First Order. Both were formidable regimes in their own respective rights, and that was why the rebels had planned this attack. While there were no official hyperlanes between Codian Moon and Endor, a brief jump would take the small fleet of ships to the Imperial salvage operation, without being noticed.

They were trying to recover an old Stardestroyer, said to have been destroyed in a pivotal battle in galactic history. The Empire was already strong, and if their cooperation with the First Order wasn't bad enough, them restoring such a vessel was sure to raise the Imperial morale greatly. Only four corvettes had shown up for the mission, which would be a strict hit and run. Captain Buldos had already briefed those involved, and now they simply waited to arrive, staring out their viewports into the bright blue vortex that would soon dissipate.

The mission had been authorized hours after the rendezvous, but Buldos had received clear instructions to make it quick. The First Order did not usually team up with the Empire, and while their presence was expected, Strike Central had made it clear to abort if their plan went astray. The patrol ships that [member="Gerhard Maxim"] commanded would most likely pick up the incoming rebel ships, which consisted of one CR92a, one CR70, and two CR90 corvettes. Not an overwhelming force in the least, but enough to take on a salvage fleet, hopefully.

"We're preparing to exit hyperspace, Captain," one of the officers said, as he tapped away at the computer terminal before him.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Mitth'rae'leios"]

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

All according to plan. A musical notion to the Chiss and one that brought a relief from tension to the members of his crew. And yet, even as the Chiss began to show the tell tale signs of appeasement, something prevented him from fully relishing the moment.

It took him less than those few moments to once again have his finger back against the communication console. Leaving the line open, momentarily deliberating on just how much he wished to reveal to the First Order officer in question, the Chiss drew in a breath and tilted his head to observe the reconnaissance fleet once more. It felt almost convenient for them to arrive as they had, but he knew it was merely a happenstance of chance.

:: Commander Maxim, regulation considered, our intel warranted immediate action. I assure you it was well within my device to contact the First Order naval command once we had confirmed our venture was not jeopardized. :: Upon completing the explanation, the Chiss took a breath and acknowledged the Major's arrival on the bridge. His arrival warranted the accommodation to proceed with the next phase of the operation. Regardless of the First Order's presence if need be. :: I commend your caution, Commander, however- ::

It was then however, as he began to contemplate another moderate delegation of matters, that the Chiss took notice of another set of alarms echoing across the bridge of the ship. This time, however, the First Order was accounted for and the crew expected no further incoming ships into the Sector. Exhaling his held breath quickly, as to dissipate his frustration, the Chiss stepped away from the communications deck and moved briskly to the center of the bridge.

"Captain, report." He calmly inquired as the Captain hastily assessed the situation at the long range sensors station. While he was fully aware of what the alarms meant, the Chiss was still intent on discovering the source of the interruption. An interruption he had minimal resources to counter in such an already delicate situation.

"High readings of Cronau Radiation on the long range sensors, Admiral, coming from the direction of the First Order vessels!" Rushed, concise and mildly concerning, the captains explanation reached the Chiss' ears. "Readings far too small for a war fleet Admiral, but there are several readings!"

"Very good, Captain, contact Skrilling Three and Four," he calmly relayed as he moved towards the viewport and glanced at each of the ships in question. "Tell them to bring Three between the Devastator and the exit point and to bring Four into an intersect course with the exit point..."

"Major," The Chiss turned to Desmond with a glint in his eye hidden but wicked. "Prepare your squad and order them to deliver the package in the cargo hold to Skrilling Three. Once there have them oversee the transfer of Skrilling Three's reactor into the Devastator and await further orders."

His orders issued, his crew beginning to take their action as commanded, the Chiss moved back to the communications deck. While he was sure the First Order vessels had detected what his crew had, he had no doubt he would be required to explain his actions to the First Order crew to avoid any reprisal on their part.

:: I'm afraid my explanation will have to wait, Commander. Our sensors have detected more ships dropping from Hyperspace in this sector. Any action our ships are taking are not in act of aggression towards you, but in defense of our interests. I suggest you prepare for the worst, commander, we will support you as we are able. :: Releasing his finger from the console once more, the Chiss contemplated what might unfold.

It was situations like these that warranted extreme preparation. Nothing escaped him, not even the unexpected.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Gerhard Maxim"] [member="Galactic Opposition"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[SIZE=11pt]Desmond C’artyom saluted the Admiral smartly as the senior officers fiery red gaze swept over him. The arrival of the new comers did very little to deter the Imperials, whether they be First Order or Rebel scum Desmond was determined the Empire would achieve what it had come for. Desmond and Inferno One raced back to the locker room and dressed in their signature black and red commando armor. They exited the locker room with due haste, running through the halls of the skrilling, knocking those who were not quick enough over and charging through the automatic doors.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Inferno One needed to complete their objectives before the enemy could engage. Desmond and squad quickly entered the hangar and they boarded the cramped interior of the utility tug. The package was snugly secured beneath the small, but powerful craft. They floated listlessly through the open void of space as thrusters activated and Desmond gunned the engines. The tug boat trundled along through space and Desmond brought it up so that it hung just on the Skrilling’s six. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The tug was not fast enough to catch up with the massive vessel as the Skrilling maneuvered itself between the Devastator and the approaching fleets, but Desmond was confident the tug was not lagging to far behind. The skrilling finally halted to a standstill, it had positioned itself right between the approaching foreign ships and the Devastator. Desmond and Inferno One docked with the derelict vessel, entering the hangar and exiting their cramped craft with speed.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Inferno One immediately went to work unhooking the cargo container from behind the tug. The five cybernetically enhanced chiss managed to pull it deeper into the bowels of the Devastator’s hangar in the zero G. They flung the cargo doors open and withdrew a series of tools and went to work on repairing the surrounding craft. Ten minutes later Desmond felt a great rumble as the Devastator shook and quaked. He ignored it, for he knew what it already was. A large custom corellian freighter had detached from Skrilling Three and docked with the Devastator.[/SIZE]

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"] [member="Galactic Opposition"] [member="Gerhard Maxim"]

 

[GalacticNiv]

The four Corellian corvettes dropped out of hyperspace, zooming into existence from the depths of the void. Ahead were many ships, more than the small fleet had anticipated. In the distance, approximately at their ten o'clock, was a First Order patrol squad, across from the Imperial salvage ships that were beginning to maneuver themselves in a full spin.

"Those ships are bigger than we expected," one of the sensory officers spoke, staring at the computer terminal anxiously. Their group was made up of a few corvettes, and while they were more armed than their opponent, they did have a size advantage. Who knew how long it would take to punch through those shields.

"Stay focused, private. What's our status?" Buldos questioned, still seated in the CR90a's command chair. The young officer turned his head, looking away from the screen and towards the Captain. "Still some distance between the enemy, fleet's shields are up and weapons charged, Captain," came the reply, quick and to the point. "Wait a minute, one is making an approach."

"Alright, I want Vash to come around our left and advance, while Dunou provides suppressing fire." With those orders given, the smaller CR70 would move forward, tailed by one CR90, both of them on an approach vector with the first advancing salvage ship. The two remaining ships decided to stay put, not willing to give up their escape route.

The two corvettes raced ahead, and would soon cross paths with the salvage frigate that had been ordered to approach as well. They both aimed to pass on one side, putting the salvage ship between the First Order patrol and themselves. These rebels did not want to risk any surprise attacks, as those crafts looked like much more of a challenge. Once in close enough range, the CR90 would slow down slightly, opening fire on the salvager, while the CR70 picked up speed, continuing towards the Stardestroyer reckage.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Mitth'rae'leios"]

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

There was a methodical predictability to the actions of insurgents. Whether it was their haste to take action or their delusional stoicism in the righteousness of their actions. It was that very thought, the triviality of the matter, that slowly whittled away in the Rear Admiral's mind as he observed the incoming ships drop from hyperspace.

While he could easily have paid close attention to the maneuvers of his vessels, or perhaps even the condition of his morale, he instead chose to ponder the machinations of the ships now present on the far end of the sector. While he was not surprised by their arrival, there was a nagging question that continually bubbled to the surface of the Chiss' pool of thought.

Who were they and why were they here?

Even as he began to work at that question, the Chiss watched as the much larger Skrilling Four salvage ship began to close it's vector into the insurgents space. It was only when the strangers began to make their maneuvers that he made visible response to the action outside the view port. And yet, even then, he merely stepped forward to lay a finger calmly against the communication's console.

"Operator," his voice slowly flowed from his mouth, a chilling calm to it a hint more collected than he'd previously used. Then, for but a moment, he paused to observe the insurgent ships coming up within range of the salvage vehicle. Precisely where he wanted them. "Activate your tractor beams on the vessels passing your position, you have permission to relay all but reserve power."

That said, withdrawing his hand from the console, the Chiss straightened his posture and stood to observe as the Skrilling loomed quietly alongside the passing Corvettes. It was then, as they came close to passing it's middle most section that the ship unleashed it's Phylon tractor beams on overclocked power output. A maneuver baffling to the untrained mind, but one he presumed would pan out perfectly into the next phase of his plan.

Again he placed his finger against the console, his eyes fixed precariously on the vessels holding position at the escape route.

"Tow the Corvettes in a collision course with their fellow vessels. If they do not move, ram them head on," he breathed, turning his head to observe his personal Death Trooper squadron taking position around the bridge of the Skrilling. While he had not personally ordered them to act, the possibility of being boarded by an enemy vessel was still a likely hood. "If they break position, Operator, you know what to do..."

They had made their move, played their cards and shown their intentions.

And now... It was time for them to understand just who they were dealing with.

[member="Galactic Opposition"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Gerhard Maxim"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[SIZE=11pt]Desmond and team raced about the hangar repairing the various TIE fighters. The ships were old, but it wasn't hard finding a few that had been preserved by the cold vacuum of space. Some of the interior systems had been chewed up by mynocks, but these were minor fixes that the Imperials came well prepared for. Desmond took his soldering iron and finished connecting a series of wires that would activate the vessels power systems. He then made his way to the Twin Ion Drive and took his plasma torch to it. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Sealing up any and all cracks in the engine. It took him only ten minutes to fix the minor damages the craft had suffered and when he was done he poked his head out of the cockpit to see that his team had finished as well. The Devastator likewise shook and quaked as the corellian frigate docked with the other Skrilling’s reactor. The sounds of heavy machinery could be heard over the comms and Desmond had to mute the frigates channel as the engineers jurry rigged conduits from their own vessel to the Devastator.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Regardless It would seem Thrael had bought Inferno enough time. Now it was up to the commando’s to ensure that the rebels never made it to the Devastator. They hopped into their ancient unshielded TIE fighters and flew out of the dilapidated hangar. The nimble craft easily avoided the wreckage and debris that flew about the vast expanse of open space. Despite their age Desmond noted they flew well, with maneuverability and speed. A grace today’s TIE’s lacked, but Desmond knew what they had in acceleration, they lacked in defense. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With no shields the TIEs could take very little damage. But, Desmond was not worried the Ace squadron would be shot down. They were after all the best starfighter pilots the Imperial navy had to offer. As they raced around the wreckage they began to line up for their attack run. Desmond hailed Admiral Thrael’s fleet and spoke briefly[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“This is Inferno One, marking our craft with friendly transponders,” Desmond said on a private channel he shared with the Admiral’s flagship.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Then Desmond regarded his squadron.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Target that frigate being savaged by the Skrilling’s tractor beam. Use proton torpedoes if you have them,” Desmond said calmly as he flipped a switch that would activate the missiles pods on his ship.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He yanked on the yoke and the ship dove towards the Rebel frigates. He let loose a salvo of missiles and began to climb upwards, his bombing run complete. His squad followed from various vectors, dive bombing the enemy corvette than quickly climbing to avoid enemy fire.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Mitth'rae'leios"] [member="Galactic Opposition"][/SIZE]

 

[GalacticNiv]

Brief screams of surprise echoed throughout both corvettes, some officers and other personnel nearly falling over due to the sudden stop. The salvage frigate had stopped them dead in their tracks, proving to be a much greater challenge than the rebels had anticipated. After about a minute, everyone had regained their bearings, Vash and Dunou contacting each other through a secure channel. Klaxons began to blare within the CR90, as all hands prepared to abandon ship.

The escape pods were packed full within four minutes, leaving only a few who wanted to stay, along with their commanding officer, Dunou. They all knew what must be done, as to not let the Empire get their hands on any information that might have been valuable to them. It would be better than a death via torture, in some dark Imperial prison. The sequence was initiated. The pods then launched, using what fuel they had to navigate back to the rest of the fleet that had hung back.

That took about five minutes, and by that time [member="Desmond C'artyom"] had launched a squadron of old TIE fighters that were advancing on their position. Hopefully they did not get too close, for the CR90 then exploded in a blazing show of metal and fire. An old tactic, adapted for this specific situation. The reflective debris of the corvette would spread quickly, hopefully interfering with the tractor beam's targeting system. The CR70 would shake violently, close enough to the other ship to feel the impact.

Their shields even took some damage, but they had managed to live thanks to their leading position. Intent on honoring Dunou's sacrifice, Vash ordered full speed ahead, causing the smaller CR70 to rocket forward with great speed. Their course with the Devastator was once more, but another obstacle lay in their way. The TIE fighters were fast, the little turbolaser cannons the corvette possessed managing to divert a few from their bombing run.

A missile impacted with the ships midsection, causing the whole vessel to quake violently, still continuing on its path. The shields were getting low, and there was no telling how much longer they would last. As Captain of the small strike force, Buldos was furious. Dunou had been a good man, and the Empire had no qualms with claiming another.

"I want torpedoes prepped in tubes one to five, now!" He shouted, those aboard the CR92a doing as they were ordered. The first salvage frigate might have taken damage from that self destruction, but Buldos wanted to finish it just to make sure. "Fire!" Five proton torpedoes were launched, rocketing through the depths of space, intent on slamming into the salvage ship, hopefully blasting it to smithereens.

[member="Mitth'rae'leios"]

 

[Mitth'rae'leios]

It was sudden, almost like a flash of an instant, and his plan began to fall into motion. The Chiss watched, his focus shifting to and from the interloping corvette and the Skrilling as the events unfolded outside the view port. While he couldn't make out exactly what was happening, it was obvious to him that the result was likely startling for most, if not all, on board. And then, within a matter of moments, it was over.

In a brilliant burst of fire, gas and sparks the corvette erupted into a ball of pocketed fire as it self destructed within the gravitational lock of the Skrilling's tractor beam.

An wave of accomplishment crashed against the shore of the Chiss ego, the sight reinforcing his confidence that his methods remained sound. The Skrilling, however, did not fare as well as the Chiss that watched it as it rocked back and forth in it's trajectory and losing a mass of it's integrity near the center of the explosion. While it had not lost it's entire hull, there was a sluggishness to it's movement as it continued it's course towards the remaining corvettes.

"Captain," he muttered as he watched the unfolding battle between Inferno One and the corvettes; a sight to behold on the behalf of one who had weaponized unarmed vessels. "Open up a communication with the opposing vessels."

It was an order that was, at first, met with confusion and hesitation. But as he glanced towards them, impressing a look of expectation upon them, each officer on deck scrambled quickly to undertake the Admiral's orders. Within a matter of minutes a slicer had opened up a secure channel, the Chiss moving forward to bring himself into the view of the communication's holo-capture module.

:: I do not know who you are, nor your intentions, but I come before you with a message. :: He breathed slowly, straightening his posture as he addressed whomever might answer his communication on the enemy ships. He did not care if they responded, nor if they understood what he intended to say. His goal was fear and fear alone. :: I want you to know who you face as I crush your morale, to know that whatever you hope to accomplish will not come to pass and to understand as others had in the past that one does not simply impede the machinations of the Galactic Empire. ::

It was while he spoke that the heat of the space battle took it's turns to and from the ships in space. The Skrilling shook once more as it was struck by the torpedoes, shaking violently and cracking dangerously across it's metallic exterior. Yet, even as it suffered fatal damage and began to leak vital gasses and fuels into space, it continued it's course towards with as high a terminal velocity it could maintain.

:: I offer you this chance to surrender. To turn around your remaining ships, collect up your wounded and shaken, and return to the corner of the galaxy from which you came. Should you refuse, :: He continued, and drew in a slow breath to recollect his poise. :: I pray you understand that there is nothing but defeat for you here and that the time for mercy has passed. ::

That said, the Chiss stepped back away from the holo-capture module and exhaled the remainder of the breath he had collected. The channel was left open, momentarily provided for a response should any come, and then securely closed as he repositioned himself at the center of the bridge. Only then did the next phase of the Admirals plan begin. Skrilling Two and Five began to move into position to prepare for the towing of the Devastator into either attack position or exit from the debris field.

If there was a time for the interlopers to make their choice? That time was now.

[member="Galactic Opposition"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Gerhard Maxim"]