Valley of Eagles (By Invite only)

[Gir Quee]

Stormfire-class Assault Frigate Audacious, somewhere in the Mytaranor Sector

“Two contacts, both are probably corvette to frigate sized. It's hard to say from this range sir,” said the disembodied voice over the intercom.

Gir turned to face Salmakk. It was rare that the two adopted brothers to meet in person now. The events of the Netherworld had kept the two of them busy, with Salmakk struggling to keep the business running and Gir running across the chaotics front lines with 1st Beta Line. It would almost appear to have been fate or luck that they would have ended up working on the same project. In fact, Gir was certain that Salmakk believed it to be the case. While the Commodore knew better, he'd never tell Salmakk.

At least not yet.

“Thank you Lieutenant Herson,” declared Commodore Quee, setting down his mug of caf, “I'll be on the bridge shortly.”

Still sitting by the holo-projector, the mon calamari looked up at him, “Intruders? Already at this stage of the project?”

Gir paused right before exiting the door, “Hard to say what their motivation is. The Mytaranor sector isn't exactly known as being the cleanest sector of the galaxy...could be slavers, smugglers, pirates...you know, the usual.”

Salmakk bobbed his head up and down in understanding, “I'll be here, brother, working on what I can until you get back.”

Gir nodded, “We'll talk when I get back.”

 

[Gir Quee]

A cool wash of air flowed across the man's face as he passed through the bridge foyer. His sapphire-blue eyes immediately darted to the view ports, where a school of tumbling rocks swam through the black ocean of space. He squinted, trying to see if any of the distant specks of starlight were actually the starships he had heard about, but he could not tell from the distance. From a simple visual vantage, the bridge appeared to be the same as when he had left it two hours ago. A lanky man with the demeanor of a coruscanti accountant shuffled over to him and made eye contact.

“Sir,” said Lieutenant Herson, “the unknown vessels have moved to being two thousand klicks to the galactic southwest from here. But they're still skirting around the Oort belt like before.”

The Commodore nodded and strode over to the viewport to contemplate their next move, “Does their movement pattern suggest anything to us?”

A Wroonian female sitting at the sensor's console nodded, “Their movement pattern is unusual. Sensor echos indicate they're using a focused scan protocol typically used by customs vessels, but their movement pattern is more consistent with mining surveyors and scouts.”

Gir nodded, “Any more information on the ships themselves?”

“Sir, they do not have transponders, and I have us running dark,” informed Herson, “I thought it best to be cautious until you arrived on the bridge.”

“You did well,” said Commodore Quee, “but we still need to know who it is...Let's get a shuttle out there and get a closer look.”

Herson frowned, “We're simply going to fly a shuttle up to them and say hi?”

“More or less.”

 

[Gir Quee]

LLS-5 Concorde-class Shuttle Flying Fish, outskirts of the Skuumaa System

“Incoming ship, who are you? I say again, who are you?”

Kind of nervous sounding if you ask me. Oh well...Lieutenant Eris Burnette didn't bother to reply. She brushed a strand of hazelnut-colored hair from her face and turned to Ensign Keyis, a young man with a habit of glaring at the lower enlisted techs and mechanics who worked on their bird. I'll have to get him out of that habit one day. Her jade eyes pierced through the man's hazel eyes.

“What do you think, think we should tell them that?”

Her co-pilot snorted and turned back to analyze the incoming sensor feed, “They're the ones who started this non-sense of no transponders, the idiots.”

She turned her eyes back to the two grayish blobs as they slowly resolved themselves to the boxy hulls of a dilapidated CEC Action series bulk freighter and a some sort of mismatched frigate-sized ugly. While she couldn't make out its exact origins, the tail section appeared to be some sort of Rendili engine block and the front seemed roughly Corellian-inspired to her, but she wasn't sure. But she was sure that she could see a massive turret on the frigate swivel to target them. Even she had to admit that that was a little intimidating, even if the massive gun was on such a scrap-heap of a ship. She flicked a button on her headset.

“Audacious, permission to disengage? They look like they're ready for a fight.”

Commodore Quee's voice came back strong and clear, “Lieutenant Burnette, alter your flight path and pull out to continue to observe them. We will be confronting them shortly. The freighter's coloration matches a stolen ship description.”

“Pirates then...” guessed Burnette.

“Maybe,” said the Commodore through her earpiece, “we'll be jumping in shortly to engage them, stay out of the deployment zone coordinates that Herson is transmitting to you now.”

“Yes sir,” said the woman, pulling the yoke to the side, taking the Flying Fish in a wide banking movement, “ We're moving out now.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Stormfire-class Frigate Audacious, outskirts of the Skuumaa System

“And...reverting...”

The lines of hyperspace travel came to a halt, causing the pair of Republic frigates to flash into real space at the edge of the system's Oort belt. Commodore Quee glanced up from his command chair, his sapphire blue eyes immediately darting to the starships they had shadowed for the last half hour. The allegedly stolen bulk freighter continued to coast across the asteroids, scanning among the nooks and crannies of the tumbling rocks, while the ugly frigate shadowed the circling shuttle. Gir shook his head as he stared at the criminal frigate. And you don't think that was slightly suspicious that prey would just hang around for you? He hesitated as a thought hit him. I guess I'm the one to talk...The man from Hast cleared his throat.

“Weapons, tractor the enemy frigate immediately,” ordered Gir, “comm's, signal Captain Hensly to impound that freighter. We will take that frigate. Comm's, get me a line to them. Maybe they can be reasonable...”

The Stormfire-class frigate to his left immediately began to jet away to from the Audacious to pursue the freighter. Dull murmurs of began to unfold across the bridge as officers and enlisted set the ship into operation. Gir felt the ship shift underneath him as the lateral thrusters fired; the Audacious spun about on its y-axis to present its broadside to the ugly's stern. His weapon's officer turned to face him. In turn, Gir turned to his comm's officer, who merely shook his head. He narrowed his eyes and adjusted his communication's headset to broadcast on a general subspace radio frequency.

“Unidentified vessel,” declared Commodore Quee, “This is the republic ship Audacious. Identify yourself and your purpose, or be fired upon...”

 

[Gir Quee]

No verbal answer ever came from the other starship.

But the trio of bright red bolts from the frigate's aft turbolaser cannon towards the frigate was message enough for the Commodore.

The bolts smashed into the shields of the Audacious, causing the localized shields to briefly flash where the bolts impacted. Gir turned his sapphire-like eyes to the chief petty officer in charge of weapons and merely nodded. The weapons officer spun about on his chair to face his console again and began barking orders. Seconds later, brilliant blue ion bolts errupted out of the republic frigate to counterattack the criminal frigate while the ship's mass drivers began to thum as they began to rapidly fire solid shot at the enemy. Gir rapidly typed a series of commands into his command chair's terminal, pulling up a holo of the enemy frigate. The sheer volume of fire caused the shields of the mismatched frigate to ripple in a variety of pale yellows and warm oranges. Impeded by Gir's tractor beams, the criminal warship struggled to bank and present its full broadside to the Audacious. But the volume of fire from the criminal warship began to increase in tempo, almost starting to match that of the Republic warship. Gir quickly typed in some more commands, getting a quick overview of the Brazen's action against the stolen bulk freighter.

Perhaps because of the disparity between their power, the frigate had already roundly subdued the civilian craft. The last vestiges of blue lightning crawled across the freighter's hull plating as the Brazen jetted in to dock with the craft. A frown engendered itself across the blonde man's face. If there were to be any casualties from the Brazen, it was to be that at this portion of the engagement. The pirates might surrender, if there still was a hostage crew onboard, they might rebel and take ove rthe ship with the criminal frigate's attention on the Audacious. But it could be that the freighter was stocked up with pirate borders, which could even be a greater threat to the Republic troops than all of the pirates' space-bound weapons combined. But Gir didn't know what scenario the Brazen's men would encounter when they dared board the captured freighter. I guess we'll just have to find out...

 

[Gir Quee]

Stormfire-class Assault Frigate Brazen, docked with Bulk Freighter DiroCorp Six

Sergeant Kyrlis hefted her blaster carbine up, stacking up her squad behind a group of the new YVH droids at the airlock. Several other organic squads, all clad in their armor, lined up behind hers. She licked her chops as she spared a glance at the droid in front of her. Best to let the droids face the first fire. A large metallic clank reverberated throughout the corridor as the two ships coupled together. Three men shuffled past her to the front. As a precaution, a nervous Republic sailor shut off the room's light, pitching the assault group into darkness. Instinctively, she toggled on her nightvision to display a newly illuminated if somewhat monotone surrounding.

A deep voice roared from the front, “Everyone ready? Good, chief, let's get in.”

A brief flash of light errupted from the front as the thermite tape burned a square into the opposing ship's airlock. The three men shuffled back behind her even as the first YVHs smashed through the burned out doors. Almost immediately, spurts of red and green blaster fire lashed out at the borders, though the battle droids coolly responded in turn even as the first few wavered under the defenders' fire. The Republic marines began to shuffle forward behind the battle droids. She brought the scope up to her eye and reflexively fired at a dark silhoutte that dashed behind a duraplast crate on the freighter. A trio of bolts smashed into the area. Around here, battle droid and Republic marines forced the pirates out of the airlock and its antechamber by the sheer volume of fire.

As she boarded the other craft, she took care to step over a body, unsure who its remains now belonged too. The YVH droids set up a defensive perimeter at the antechamber, ensuring that there would now be a constant flow of personnel from the frigate into the captured freighter. Her comlink crackled.

“That's enough resistance,” noted her team leader, “we're not dealing with some 50 credit crim scum bags. These guys are professionals of some sort, even if they only are shipjackers. Krylis, we're going to mix things up a bit, take your people and a squad of droids down that corridor, let's see where it goes. Vickers, take your people up the right, I'll take Cresh up the center. Let's see them try and stop us from taking over their ship.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Krylis pressed herself tightly behind the bulkhead of the freighter, watching as a trio of bolts flashed by her face where she had stood only moments before. Her heart beat harder than a roaming herd of banthas on Tatooine. The pirates were putting up a resistance, though she had quickly sorted them into two widely different groups. Most of them just seemed to be almost typical spacers running a starship: they were no fighters. It was hard to subdue them with stun bolts or even to simply accept their surrender. But there was a smaller, hardened lot onboard who clearly were fighters as good as her own marines. She wasn't really sure if they were simply hired muscle or more likely, the boarders and enforcers that kept pirate gangs profitable. She unloosened a flash-bang grenade belt from her battle rig, pulled the pin, and tossed down towards the source of blaster bolts. As it exploded in a brilliant flash and a deafening clamor, she spun back into the center of the corridor with her blaster already at her shoulder. Just to the side of her, a young man named Herens backed her up with a scattershot. The two almost immediately began firing, filling the space between them with bolts and shots. Even over the dim of the weapon's fire, she could have swore that she had heard a loud groan.

They advanced deeper into the freighter.

In the renewed darkness, her shin came into contact with a warm pulsating mass. She spared a quick glance to look at it, to see the pale and bloodied body of someone laying down on the floor. The body began to twitch. Instinctively she swung her blaster downwards and squeezed off a shot. A blue stun bolt smashed into the man, knocking the wounded being unconscious. Herens advanced past her to check the two bodies in front of them slumped up against a door. She glanced around to make sure their was no more opposition even as the rest of her squad came up from their supporting fire positions to advance to the airlock. Her helmet comlink crackled.

“They're gone,” reported Herens, standing up.

She nodded and flicked her comlink on to the support channel, “Brazen, this is Desh leader. I have one enemy wounded on the third floor, by the secondary access door.”

A disembodied voice came back to her, “Roger that Desh Lead. A medical team is on their way. Your team is first at the objective point, I'm going to relay that to Ops lead.”

She frowned. While her squad was no slouch, she had guessed that the other two squads, especially Cresh, would already be at their points. Cresh, reinforced by the YVH droids should have had the least problems. Unless the pirates saw them as the biggest threat...probably got swarmed. A new voice came over the com, that of the boarding team leader.

“Desh, are you and your people green?”

“Mostly,” replied the woman, “we could use some more scattershot shells...”

“You're green then,” said the man, “the plans gone to hell. The pirates had the main corridor to the bridge pretty heavily reinforced. They have an E-web and a portable shield generator. The only small comfort is that they have no where to go...”

“And Vickers?”

“I don't know, one of his men freaked out when he got hit. His squad is a disorganized mess right now, but hopefully they'll get on their way soon, but not soon enough. Look, you should make the move.”

“You positive?”

“Positive.”

“Roger that, we'll do it,” said Krylis, turning to face the rest of her squad.

 

[Gir Quee]

The two minutes that passed between the acknowledgment of that order and setting up the proton grenades were among the longest in Krylis's life. She quickly turned the timer on the last charge before quickly shuffling away to hide behind a bulkhead plate like the rest of her squad. Fifteen seconds passed before she felt an enormous shockwave suffuse and pass through her body. She felt like she was rattling in her armor. Even as she recovered, her green eyes watched as Heren launched forward through the smoldering doorframe and into the bridge itself. Idiot.

She quickly jumped forward to trail just after him. As she cleared the doorframe, she watched pair of red blaster bolts flare out towards Heren, but they went wide. Heren retaliated with a pair of scattergun blasts which quickly put his opponent to the ground. Her eyes quickly darted around, looking for the next threat, but all she saw was the bloodied forms of the wounded and dead laying around her. The rest of her squad quickly followed behind her to secure the rest of the room. Two of them quickly ran up and locked up the other two doors unto the bridge. The rest of the squad took to checking the occupants of the room, securing them and their weapons to ensure that they were no longer a threat.

She blinked. Get a grip, Krylis. You need to move too.

The woman jogged over to a crew station and connected her datapad to the console. She rapidly typed in a few commands. The gray bar that dominated her screen quickly filled up to a bright blue, indicating that she had a solid connection. She flicked her helmet comlink to change channels.

“Audacious, this is Sergeant Krylis, we've secured the bridge of the freighter and I've installed my remote access point.”

The voice of boarding ops came back quickly, “Good job sergeant, we'll take it from here.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Stormfire-class Frigate Audacious, outskirts of the Skuumaa System

“Do we have prisoners?” questioned the commodore.

Herson nodded, “A good number of them have been wounded though.”

Gir nodded. They had lost a few good men. Boarding was almost always a tough job with casualties taken on both sides. But with the capture of the bridge, the piratical resistance collapsed as the Republic soldiers simply turned off the freighter's life support: the soldiers had full life support equipment in their armor while the YVH droids never needed oxygen at all. All things considered, the recapture of Dirocorp Six had gone well, though in truth, he had never wished to encounter either of the pirate ships.

Their mere presence and history in the system was a threat to his true mission.

The man from Hast turned his attention back to the ugly frigate, which they had tentatively identified as the Battle Rancor. If that identification was correct, and it was according to the database search, the pirate ship had taken a dozen prizes over the last few months, but little was known about her crew or even the origin of the vessel. The shields on the enemy ship were fading fast under the sustained bombardment from the Audacious's mass drivers and ion cannons. The petty officer in charge of coordinating the weapons turned to face the blonde man.

“Sir, their shields are about to drop, do we intend to capture it as well?”

Gir shook his head, “We will destroy it unless they surrender. It's of little use to us.”

“Yes sir,” said the man, spinning in his chair to face his console again.

His sapphire-blue eyes fell upon the Battle Rancor, watching the last vestiges of its shields flare red before collapsing under the brunt of the Audacious's fire. The solid shot of the assault frigate began to smash into the hull itself. The pirate ship's heavier armor began to bulge under the impacts while some of the shot passed clean through the thinner areas of the hull. Return fire from the Battle Rancor began to slacken as her weapons were destroyed or her crew abandoned ship. Escape pods began to jet away from the stricken vessel as a fuel line inside the ship ruptured, causing a brief but fiery display that was the ship's death knell. Gir crinkled his lips as the battle subsided. He turned to Lieutenant Herson.

“Go ahead and begin to recover the survivors. Once we find out who the highest...ranking pirate there is, I want to know. I need to talk to him.”

“You think they may know?” questioned Herson.

“I'm not sure, but we need to know what they were doing out here, if nothing else.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Several hours later...

Standing behind a pane of one-way tinted glass, Gir eyed the man in tattered clothing up and down several times. Can he really be the first mate of the Rancor? Rade Arwen Chun sat down on the plain metal chair in the Audacious's brig, wiping the sweat off his pocked face and babbling quietly to himself about the frigate's good upkeep. The Rancor must have been a real wreck on the inside. Commodore Quee turned to the young marine lieutenant in charge of the brig.

“And you're sure he's the first mate?”

“That's what the other prisoners say,” said the rodian with a shrug.

“Do they say what happened to the captain?”

“Went down with the ship, if you can believe it.”

Gir nodded, “Well, I'm going to have a quick talk with him. Keep an eye on me, just in case he tries to pull anything.”

“Got it sir.”

The man from Hast exited the observation room and wandered into the interrogation room. Almost immediately, the eyes of the two men met, and Gir felt equal measures of fear and curiousity pour of the man sitting before him. The other man glanced down, and Gir's gaze followed suit.

“Rade Arwen Chun, that's your name right?” questioned Gir.

“It is,” said the man, turning his gaze up at the Republic officer.

“You were the first mate of the Battle Rancor, correct?”

“I was.”

“Why did your people come here?” questioned the Commodore.

“We were searching for something.”

“What were you searching for?” questioned the commodore.

“What's it to you?”

Gir frowned, “Isn't it obvious? I lost four men taking back the DiroCorp Six from your group. I want to know why.”

“How did you even know we were here?” questioned the pirate.

“The judicial officials didn't keep me informed on that matter,” lied Commodore Quee, “they just told me where you were. I'm just interested in why they were so intent on recapturing this freighter. Did it have a cargo of aurodium or something like that?”

Chun frowned, “You're saying we got a snitch?”

“I don't know,” said Gir, “maybe it was a tracking beacon...”

“It had to be a snitch,” said the old first mate, “otherwise that blacked out shuttle wouldn't have dropped by us first before you came. I bet they took him in.”

“I don't know,” lied the Commodore, leaning against the room's wall, “but you haven't answered my question...”

“I don't know,” said the first mate, “maybe there was something hidden on it, I don't know. When we took it, there were only nerf fillets on it.”

“Where you about to meet someone here?” questioned the Commodore, “perhaps they knew of the hidden cargo?”

“Why ask me?”

“Because I want to know what's really going on here,” said Gir, “and the official channels aren't telling me much. I thought maybe, maybe I could arrange something with you and find the real truth. Why were you here?”

“The captain said that he had found a reference to a derelict out here that we could loot for some easy credits. They say that the wreck had been declared as a war memorial.”

“Well, that's all for now,” said the Commodore, standing up straight again, “I may return with some more questions.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Gir entered the observation room once more, just in time to see a pair of guards enter the room to take the pirate to the mass detention room where the pirates were being held. The rodian marine officer looked at him curiously.

“Sir, did you just lie to the prisoner?”

“Absolutely,” admitted the Commodore, turning to face the pirate, “and I don't regret it for a second. It was mission essential.”


The rodian's big eyes blinked, “Because you didn't want them to know why we here...you wanted to give them a reason to think why we were here. Something for him to explain to the others when we take them back to the planetary jail system.”

“And the first mate will spread that to the crew as they try and figure out who the snitch was,” said the Commodore, “but it's arguably just as important to figure out what they were doing here. His story matches their ships' pattern of behavior, scanning deep into the asteroid belt for the wreck of an old ship. But now that's something that I will have to take care of if the wreck keeps on drawing people into the system...”

“We can't have anyone stumbling along the construction site,” agreed the marine, “though I admit, sometimes I wish we would have more visitors.”

“The boredom shouldn't last much longer,” said the man from Hast with a wan smile, “soon enough, it should be over, and we'll be on our way out of here.”

 

[Salmakk]

Salmakk walked through the bridge foyer doors of the Audacious to the dull murmur of the working bridge crew. His adopted brother stood at one of the viewports, seemingly idly watching the tumbling rocks of the system's Oort belt. The goof. The mon calamari glanced around, but few of the bridge crew paid him much attention. He was not sure if it was because of his connection to their commander, or if it was because he was civilian. He would have to take the initiative himself to approach their commander. Shrugging, the mon calamari wobbled over to stand next to Gir.

But the man said nothing.

Salmakk cleared his gravelly throat, “The air is too dry here for my liking.”

The blonde man turned to face the him, but the human merely shook his head, “That old line?”

“It gives you a smile, most of the time,” protested engineer.

A slow if somewhat muted smile did crease across the commodore's face, “It still does, most of the time. Look, over there, a little more to your left...can you see it?”

The mon calamari turned his fish-like eyes to sift through the rusty-colored rocks. A thin slice of silver seemed to briefly flash in the distance as the system's distant sun managed to just get hit the semi-built vessel at the right angle. But that light receded to nothing in only a few seconds. The mon calamari blinked as the vessel disappeared from sight among the tumbling rocks and dust.

“It's there then.”

“The keel of the Arendal,” said Gir quietly, “it's barely a ship, and I've already lost men for it.”

“I heard that you've lied for it too.”

“In a way,” justified the commodore, “but sometimes you just have to let men believe what they want, without correcting them.”

“It's called lying, Gir,” stated Salmakk bluntly, “though I remember what my father once said: the most humane acts of war are based on deception, or something like that.”

“Almost sounds like Sith philosophy.”

“Perhaps,” admitted the engineer, “and I don't like it one bit. And that's why I need to see you now, if you can spare the time. Remember the conversation previously, Gir? Before the battle?”

“Oh yes, sorry," stammered the man from Hast, "I'll be in the cabin again shortly, let me just turn over the bridge to Anderson here.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Commodore's quarters, Stormfire-class Frigate Audacious, outskirts of the Skuumaa System

"Sorry about the delay," said Gir, as he entered his personal quarters.

His suite of rooms were relatively small by galactic house standards, though relatively massive compared to many of the frigate's quarters. Aside from his bed and a built in kitchenette, the only other furnishings were a trio of chairs set around a portable holo-projector. Salmakk had already plugged in his over-sized engineering datapad into the projector and was rapidly punching in commands to it. Gir shook his head and began to unbutton his tunic.

"Already hard at work," noted Gir quietly, "I didn't know the overall design concerned you that much..."

"The weapons systems don't bother me," replied the mon calamari, "nor do many of the other battle related systems. It's the base ship that bothers me."

Gir took off his tunic and draped it over one of the chairs, which he promptly plopped down on, "My understanding is that the Eagle-class was very well developed and successful design."

"It's a fine bulk freighter," agreed the Mon Calamari, "but I'm not sold on this conversion."

"Do tell."

"Well, with the requirement that much of the infrastructure can be made groundside in factories...what do you call that?"

"Pre-fabricated?" offered Gir.

"Yes, that's it," said Salmakk, "with the requirement that a lot of the rooms being prefabricated, they had to make some changes to the frame design to incorporate that construction method, mostly to make it more open to easily insert those sections of rooms through the frame and into the main hull itself."

"I'm following you so far..."

"Gir, at this point, there isn't any framing to help keep those components inside the ship itself."

The man frowned, "Shouldn't that matter, if the same components are firmly attached to the inner part of the frame itself?"

"Theoretically, and practically, that would work on a normal hull usage for a merchant ship..."

The realization hit Gir instantly, "But it wouldn't be durable for normal combat damage or the stress from battlefield maneuvers...is that it?"

"Yes," said the mon calamari, "that's exactly it. Those designers from Lantillies are good shipwrights Gir, but they're civilian shipwrights used to working on civilian designs..."

"Let me guess, you want me to suggest to add more external framing, or something like that, over the prefabricated components to give the armor more to bolt on..."

Salmakk's rubbery mouth curled up into what Gir guessed what was a grin, "Exactly Gir. You're the project lead, not a potential rival engineer. If anything, they can just blow it off as government safety regulations, or something to that like. Put it into the design parameters, and it's a safe ship again."

Gir sighed, "You're right, you know. But now we're entering the area of politics, Salmakk. This may require a bit of touch."

"Which is why I'm suggesting you do it Gir, not me. I know I'm not the best with well, those sort of things."

"Nor am I."

"But you're better at it than me, brother..."

 

[Gir Quee]

Almost a half hour passed before Gir and Salmakk left the cabin to take a ride on a shuttle to the newly arrived Arendal. Gir deftly guided the yoke of the Remember Hast to take the vessel in a graceful loop towards the partially constructed warship as it pulled in to an old, Repair Yard. Salmakk watched the skeletal craft dock with the station.

"A bold move, to take it all the way here in that condition," mused the Mon Calamari engineer.

"A smart move though," said Gir, "to the public, building the frame wouldn't cause much attention over a big world like Lantillies. It would look like just another Eagle-class under construction. The second we start putting combat systems on it, or changing much of the superstructure, the secret would be out."

"Oh, I know that," replied the mon calamari, "it is just that I would not feel comfortable flying in such a ship."

"Neither would I."

"And yet it's your command."

Gir snorted, "I'm not pulling the crew from their quarters on the station to fly that thing yet. At the very least, we need to have all of the permanent crew habitation areas installed on it. There's not much there right aside from the bridge, power engineering, and engine rooms. I doubt they could really take it on a longer voyage than this."

Salmakk nodded in agreement. Their shuttle slipped through the construction spars of the yard to gently glide across the partially completed warship. Gir spared brief glances at the ship to get a picture of its overall condition, but Salmakk was rigorously taking notes on his datapad about the gleaming mirrsteel frame of the warship. Gir spared a glance at the engineer.

"Everything looking all right, brother?"

Salmakk nodded, "For the most part, though I think they may have hit a few micrometeorites on the way in, but nothing that can't be easily fixed by the repair droids and the workers of the yard."

"That's good, since we're trying to get the Arendal running soon."

 

[Salmakk]

Conference Room, Repair Yard Rogers One, Skuumaa System

A motley group of businessmen, Republic military personnel, engineers, and yard workers crammed into the space station's conference room. Most of them managed to get seats around a ring-shaped table that faced a large holo-projector, though several hovered at the rear of the room. Already, a lean man wearing a tailored black suit stood in front of the projector, impatiently looking around. Salmakk managed to seat himself between a yard worker and a marine captain. He glanced around to see one prominent chair, between the yard's chief operating officer and distinguished scientist, still empty. The mon calamari shook his head. Still busy with him, Gir?

A set of doors to the room swished open, and almost immediately, all of the military personnel present stood up at attention. Several of the other civilian personnel did too, though some remained seated, and a dozen seemed more confused.

“Commodore on the deck!” announced a commander.

“As you were,” replied Gir, dismissing the formality with a wave of hand.

The room seemed to rumble as people sat back down in their chairs. Salmakk let a rubbery grin crease his face as he watched a Lantillian engineer scuttle away from Gir to take a reserved seat not too far away from Salmakk. Looks like Gir got done talking with him. The commodore quickly strode over to take his seat.

“I apologize for keeping you all waiting,” mused Gir, glancing at his wrist chrono, “a potential safety issue came up, but let us continue. Mister Katwer, you have the floor.”

The dark-suited man at the holo-projector nodded in appreciation and tapped a button on his comlink. The holo-projector began to buzz to produce a surprisingly clean-cut holo of the Arendal's frame as it sat right now in the yard's repair bays. The man cleared his throat before projecting his voice.

“Everyone here already knows the base structure of the Arendal, and its ultimate goal,” started the man, “unfortunately, the ah, occurences that have recently disrupted all galaxy have caused a supply line issue. The repulsorlifts originally slated to be included in the design are no longer available due to the loss of the supplying world...”

That brought a murmuring across the group. Most heavy cruisers, even the original Dreadnaught and Clone Wars era Victory-class Star Destroyer, had repulsorlifts built into their frame, allowing the vessels to descend into the atmosphere to disgorge troops or provide close air support. The man continued.

“The original units used on the Eagle-class have been deemed as not as powerful enough to safely move the Arendal through the atmosphere. Consequently, all repulsorlift sections are to undergo revision-”

A blue-skinned Wroonian stood up, “You mean to tell that there's none available, from anywhere in the Republic?”

“There are not,” replied Gir curtly, “none that would fit into our current size or performance strengths and are available in large numbers. The Arendal will have to do without them. Please, Mister Katwer, continue...”

The wroonian yard worker sat down as the murmurs subsided.

“Thank you commodore,” started Katwer, “therefore, all areas previously built to incorporate the repulsorlift units will instead be fitted with microthrusters. All of your sections should be receiving instructions on how the change will affect your jobs in constructing this warship. The bright side is that these maneuvering thrusters are expected to make the Arendal up to normal maneuvering standards, rather than the, uh, somewhat lacking performance we had there earlier. Other current changes, based upon some of our supply line changes include...”

 

[Gir Quee]

Some days later...

Arendal-class Heavy Cruiser Arendal, somewhere in the Skuumaa System

"But this shouldn't even be an issue," spat out the businessman.

Gir glanced around the room. Most of the conference room's occupants were civilian. Some were corporate engineers and businessmen; others were government yard workers. While Gir was no expert in reading people, their reactions to Nabat's outburst seemed to vary between annoyed to sympathetic. But the few military beings in the room exchanged subtle knowing glances with each other. The man from Hast shook his head.

"That policy isn't changing," said Gir quietly, "all restricted areas on the ship will continue to remain locked to those who are not issued government Code Cylinders. All those who need entry to such areas will require a military escort in those areas. I'm sorry Mr. Nabat, but I don't have any say in those regulations.

It's a security precaution because there have been times in history where saboteurs and spies have accessed vital government areas through corporate subcontractors. It's also designed to give enemy boarders a harder time in taking over the ship. I know it's a pain the rear, but that's not going to change. We should be thankful that we got an exception to temporary disable the laser traps until the shakedown cruise, otherwise, several of your more persistent employees might have well ended up on the sickbay or shuttled out of here..."

He glanced at his wrist chrono briefly. Time for the next topic...

"...Mr. Nabat, I suggest you coordinate your crews work with Captain Med, the security chief or talk to him for further discussion of the topic. I'm afraid we have to move onto a different topic now due to time constraints.

We talked about an armor supply issue yesterday, and it would seem that Mr. Terrik will now speak about our solution to that problem. Mister Terrik?"

A large man with a latern-jaw stood up and walked over to the room's holo-projector. He flipped a switch on it, letting it warm up before his presentation.

"Thank you Commodore. As you all know, our original plan to use laminated sheets of durasteel and carbon nanotubes for the Arendal, to give it standard heavy cruiser protection but allowing us to loose weight to improve the ship's speed and acceleration. But the nanotube contractor's factory was...damaged during some of our recent events, and will not be fully operational for some time. So Mister Llyek and myself came up with alternative that uses commonly found materials that we have ample stockpiles of..."

He pushed a button on the projector's control station, causing a pair of transculent rectangular prisms to spring up from the projector's ring.

"We will instead use bi-layered armor composed of Duranium and Trimantium..."

The two rectangles fused together to form a single plate with a series of small extrusions on two of the ends, and a pair of receivers on the other two edges.

"...the properties of the metal should ensure reasonable, cost-effective protection, though now the Arendal's speed will not be as fast as originally projected. As you can see here, each armor plate links to the others around it, not unlike ancient scale armor."

"Why?" questioned Nabat with a frown, "sorry, I'm just curious..."

"I'm getting there. When the plates are installed, not only will they be attached to the frame itself, but also to plates around it. For starters, each plate's edges are heated enough just for them to expand slightly, allowing them to easy fasten with the nearby plates with a slight amount of slack and malleability. As it cools in the vacuum, the plates contract to their normal size and become taut. They are then fastened to the structure like normal armor plating. But by linking the plates together, combined with Trimantium's high tensile strength, the plating should be able to absorb kinetic blows and spread the impact across the entire ship."

Gir frowned, "Wouldn't that damage all of the plates then?"

"It would," agreed Terrik, "but it would disperse the impact so that all plates are only receiving a miniscule amount, allowing the localized plating to hold under even heavy impacts. It is going to cause a bit more overhaul for the ship in extended engagements though."

"But why the Duranium?" questioned a yard worker, leaning forward.

"I can answer that," replied Gir, "it was what given to use a replacement for the carbon nanotubes by the regional depot. It's well-stocked, and a somewhat less effective version of the original armor; reasonably tough and somewhat lightweight. It's pretty standard armor, for the most part."

Terrik nodded, "We shouldn't expect this armor to withstand multiple impacts from the heaviest of projectile weapons, but it should remain as serviceable armor given our circumstances..."

 

[Gir Quee]

The next day...

Commodore's Quarters, Arendal-class Cruiser Arendal, Skuumaa System

The commanding officer quarters on the Arendal was marginally larger than his own on the Audacious, yet Gir couldn't help but feel that they were still too small when Mr. Terrik entered them. The big man's head almost touched the ceiling. The man looked at him intently, to which Gir shook his head.

“Regional depot won't do it,” said Gir quietly, “but I was able to get them to start a study on the concept.”

The man frowned, “But the science is proven...”

“They aren't counting the computer simulations,” replied Gir, “they want practical testing first, the real armor tested against the eral weapons. That's been secured, and it will even happen here, but it's scheduled to happen after the Arendal is commissioned. I wouldn't take it personally, Michael. I think that's partially an excuse on their part to not do it now; the whole logistical chain is already messed up from the recent events. It'd be adding a lot to their already high work load.”

Terrik sank into the quarter's couch and glanced at the nearby holo-projector, “Did they tell you what to do instead then?”

“Traditional armor plating and attachment,” replied Gir, “but still using the same trimantium and duranium composite you discussed earlier. The only thing that is changing is will be the lack of the scales.”

“That's half the concept,” muttered Terrik.

“True,” admitted Gir, “I won't try to spin the outcome Michael, I'm sorry.”

“Well, I guess I'll have to prove it to them on the practical tests...at least we have the weapons installed on us now for the practical testing...”

 

[Gir Quee]

Some days later...

Bridge, Arendal-class Heavy Cruiser Arendal, Skuumaa System

“Finally moving, I see,” noted Salmakk, walking up from behind the man.

Gir glanced behind him to see that even the mon calamari had a designated marine escort. The Arendal's bridge was buried deep in the cruiser's superstructure, having more in common with the Audacious's combat bridge than a typical starship bridge. There were no viewports to observe the surroundings. Instead several rows of stations surrounded a central bridge holo-projector. Gir's own station was in one of the higher rows, which gave him more computing power and holo-projector displays than his old command chair on the Audacious. But it felt more claustrophobic too. Gir swiveled around to face his adopted brother.

“So far,” said Gir.

The mon calamari flashed his eyes in what Gir knew to be one of the alien's few expressions of humor, “Don't tell me you want to stop moving because you have motion sickness.”

Gir wryly grinned, “I couldn't tell if we were moving except through the displays...”

“Neither could I,” admitted Salmakk, looking past Gir into the displays, “it doesn't feel quite natural.”

“No,” agreed Gir, “but it's safer down here, and there's a secondary steering station with windows at the front if the bridge goes down.”

“Or your sensors go blind.”

“It's pretty hard to blind EPRs...”

“Until you break them.”

“If that happens,” replied Gir, “I'm pretty sure a normal bridge would already have been broken under enemy fire. Speaking of which, did the doors give you any trouble? Or did you have to threaten to blow them up?”

Salmakk almost glumly shook his head, despite one previous problem with a malfunctioning blast door. With the cruiser finally moving under its own power, the security exemption that Gir had previously acquired had expired. The laser traps were now online, as were the ray-shielded blast doors. Moving within the Arendal had become more difficult for those without code cylinders. While most of the public corridors could be easily transversed, moving into any area of the ship's functional operations areas or living quarters would require a code cylinder. And too many of the civilians chagrin, not all military personnel had access to all of the areas of the ship. Gir reasoned that the cooks didn't access to the reactors, nor did he think that the particularly rowdy power engineering crew need access to the ship's liquor stores.

“So what are we testing today, just the engines?”

Gir shrugged, “A little bit of that, a little bit of this...”

 

[Gir Quee]

The commodore rapidly flipped through several screens as the Arendal deftly slipped through channel out of the system's Oort belt. Finally, he settled on a pair of displays, one showing the ship's weapon's officer's screen, while the other displayed a model of the small squadron maneuvering through the belt, including the Audacious, Brazen, and Boreas. Gir had deemed the other three ships necessary just in case the Arendal had any teething issues during its first trial cruise, or if it encountered any enemies. He began to select several nearby asteroids as targets for the Arendal's weapons.

“Blowing things up already?” questioned Salmakk.

Gir snorted, “Better now rather than later.”

Salmakk nodded in agreement, “I suppose the One Sith might find it funny when we discovered that half of our weapons weren't functioning right.”

The commodore nodded and flipped a switch on his headset, “This is Commodore Quee speaking. All ships, be advised that Arendal will begin weapons testing shortly. I repeat, all ships, be advised that the Arendal will begin weapons testing shortly. Quee out.”

The tactical officer turned in his chair to face him, “Standard drills, sir?”

Gir nodded, “Begin firing lower power weapons and ascend to the highest.”

“Aye sir.”

The weapon's officer began to speak several commands into his own might even as he began to highlight several of the commodore's target. Across the warship, the defensive guns began to fire. Streams of quad laser and autoblaster fire began to erupt from the gray hull of the warship, chewing away at the smaller nearby asteroids. On his tactical display, Gir noticed one of the cannons flashed red before turning yellow. He frowned even as Salmakk leaned over and began to type in a few commands of his own.

“Doesn't look serious,” started Salmakk.

“It's serious enough if it's not firing,” said Gir, shaking his head, “I'm going to call it in.”

He flicked a switch on his headset

“Repair teams to gun 62, repair teams to gun 62.”

Deep within the portside structure of the Arendal, a group of repair droids and mechanics would be scrambling to check out and then repair the gun. But Gir's attention now shifted as the second group of guns began to fire; light quad turbolasers began to send out streams of their bolts; this time the asteroids actually began to explode as they became superheated under the fire. The mass drivers came next, followed by the energy torpedoes. They all worked without a hitch. The firing stopped. Gir suddenly realized that they were out of targets. I'm not used to having all of this firepower. He selected several targets further away, more suitable for the heavier guns, and let the teams recommence the firing operations.

 

[Gir Quee]

The heavier turbolasers of the Arendal began to fire, with the long-range heavy turbolaser batteries and the sole Tyrvald joining fire with the ship's heavy turbolasers. Large, brilliant red beams began to emerge from the massive turrets. The beam of the Tyrvald hit a nearby asteroid and almost completely incinerated it, spraying dust across the rest of the warship's targets. Still, the long-range heavy turbolaser battery fired through the obscuring dust to score hits a cluster of the distant tumbling rocks. Gir cleared his throat before flipping a switch on his headset comlink.

“Cease fire, cease fire,” stated Commodore Quee, “live fire exercise has ended. Flight operations testing will begin in twenty minutes. All pilots report to your ships. Quee out.”

He flipped a switch on his headset, shutting the channel off.

“I'd say that went well,” said Gir, swiveling in his chair to face Salmakk.

But the mon calamari was looking at the bridge's central holo-projector, eying the various holos of starships waiting in the Arendal's bay. The flight control group was already huddling over one of the bridge's holo-tanks, plotting out various trajectories along with several of the ship's squadron leaders. The mon calamari turned to face his adopted brother.

“Sorry Gir, er...Commodore, I got distracted. Those are some ships I haven't seen before.”

“Nubian designs,” said Gir softly, “it's good to see others jumping into fill the gaps with the loss of Rendili and Kuat.”

“That's what this whole design is about.”

Gir nodded, “And hopefully, the Arendal-class can fill in those gaps just as well alongside them.”