"Infiltration, Part 1"
By: Walker Coin
Tasia Harough
Cirran Tyris
Location: Space Above Tae'Karada; Drogen Shipyards
Date: Rheudis 28, 5 ABY
***
The Fool's Hope was rocked violently by a nearby explosion, debris from the destroyed Karadan fighter careening off the ship's hull.
Tasia Harough winced, giving a shake of her head. "That's gonna leave a mark," she muttered. Her slender fingers, calloused from years of repairing vessel's like Cirran's, moved across the ship's comm panel deftly despite the frequent jostling they endured. The firefight raged on, with casualties mounting on both sides of the celestial battlefield, but with far too great a percentage of them on the Karadan side for Tasia's liking. Shards of shattered hull plating and hunks of fighters ripped apart by laser fire littered the starfield above Tae'Karada, transforming it into a graveyard for those defending the planet against the Jau. The Karadan's target loomed above the space over Arcadia, a behemoth compared to the modest-sized cruisers and starfighters of the Jau's nettlesome opponents. The rebel ships were swift and maneuverable, but the massive Jau generator ship was heavily defended and possessed impressive firepower, and worse yet still no energy weapon could penetrate the myrinium hull plating that sheathed it. Atop the superstructure, a quartet of giant generators recreated the unique spatial conditions of the nebula where myrinium was naturally found, bestowing the dark crystal with its special properties, and turning normally inky black space freakishly vivid hues of red, violet and orange. Within this protective sphere boiled the Jau's fighers, clad like their giant protector in the myrinum plating and nearly invincible, like their pilots, to regular energy weapons.
As if the situation wasn't hopeless enough, trapping the rebels in a deadly crossfire were the shipyard's cannons, at the control of the Jau. The battle was already hugely in the Jau's favour; but unless someone on the rebel's side could seize control of the station's defenses - a station infested with Jau - it would be an utter and complete massacre. None of this discouraged Tasia and her cohorts as they took on the task - Walker, strapping on armour and bristling with weapons; Cirran, as always, at the helm of his ship, even if it meant flying into certain death; by his side was his stalwart companion, Lerrah Breijal, prepared to leap into the fray headlong no matter the peril. All were worthy companions, and Tasia was glad to know them, and would be sorry to see any one of them fail to return from battle. She steeled herself against the pessimism eroding her determination. They could not even entertain the idea of losing, for that meant death - a painful death. But if this motley band of men and women had any control over their fate, when the dust settled they would still be standing.
"Link established. Activating the subroutine," Tasia notified the crew. "Don't know how long I can get those shields down for. Just steer us towards Bay 15 and be ready." Inputting the commands, Tasia hoped to trigger the program so artfully developed by Ty and cleverly installed by Tasia herself in Bay 15's main computer terminal. She had done so over a month ago under the guise of a system repair, instead installing the microchip they were now remotely activating to kill the bay's external shields. And with one final string of code, Tasia did so. The shields shimmered and disappeared while the bay doors sluggishly parted. "Now! Go!" Tasia launched out of her seat. Walker tossed a blaster her way; Tasia snatched it deftly from mid-air. "You ready?"
Walker hefted his own weapon, a massive repeating flechette cannon usually used as an anti-personnel gun emplacement, and designed to fire metal spikes as long as a drinking glass. "Ready and willing," growled the soldier, grunting as he stood under the weight of the extra ammo he was carrying. Around him in the cargo hold of the freighter the elite commando team selected from amongst the planetary rebels for their mission of taking of the station's control room were making similar last-minute preparations. A few staggered as another blast buffeted the ship. "Can you hold this damned thing steady, spacer?" bellowed the sergeant in the direction of the cockpit. The pilot heard the criticism, but kept his eyes fixed on the swirling maelstrom ahead of him, rather than try to turn to yell back. "We're not Harvest Day joyriding with your grandma here, Walker," he muttered, then cursed as his well-aimed snapshot splashed harmlessly off a Jau fighter that had flashed across the bows of the freighter. He knew he couldn't hurt the Jau ships for now, but blasting them was instinct. "OK, that's starting to get annoying," he commented to his co-pilot.
Lerrah concurred with a curt nod.
Cirran threw the freighter into a steep dive that ducked it under a stream of turbo laser fire from the station, shooting down towards the docking area faster than the gun could track. He stabbed the intercom button. "Hope you're ready to go, Walker. We won't be hanging around to fill out the docking paperwork."
"You just get us in there, flyboy, and I'll worry about deploying this squad," came the gruff reply from the intercom.
Cirran bit his lip as the bulk of the station grew to fill the canopy. "This is gonna be hairy," he ventured.
Contrary to Cirran's pessimism though, the Jau were on the back foot as the freighter skimmed in. Confident as they had been in the security of the station's docking bay shielding, the sudden failure of the Bay 15 shield had caught them totally by surprise. Local guns sputtered belatedly to life as their techs scrambled to restore the mysteriously failed system. But they were still trying to crack Ty's firewalls when Cirran burst into the bay and slewed the back of the freighter round deep into it in a wild turn. Cirran thumbed a button and the faulty ramp of the Fool's Hope crashed to the deck with a booming report. He keyed the intercom.
"4th floor," he said. "Houseware, manchester and our alien oppressors."
"Let's go shopping," Walker growled, charging down the ramp, Tasia and the commandos with him. Behind them the ramp of the freighter ascended and the repulsorlifts roared as the ship powered back out into the melee.
Tasia gestured with the tip of her blaster towards the bay's main door. "They'll be trying to override the locks by now--" A band of hot, glowing durasteel traced an outline around the door, much to Tasia's surprise. "Wow...they gave up quicker than expected. They're cutting through. Everyone get into position!" The commandos fell strategically into a defensive position behind metal cargo crates as Tasia and Walker rushed to the door to plant the explosive charges. "Funny," Tasia quipped, "this could be considered our first real date, you know. I mean, we're decked out in our finest armour, you've combed your hair for once...."
The big sergeant flashed his sharkish grin. "Pays to look your best when you liberate a planet. Wouldn't do to have my ugly mug standin' around all shabby in the background of the inevitable celebratory victory holos."
Tasia grinned and armed her charge. Walker's beeped as it too announced readiness. The two ran to join their soldiers behind cover and listened for the metallic thud of the bay door hitting the deck. A moment later it did; Walker held up his hand, staying Tasia's finger as it hovered over the remote detonator. Heavy footfalls vibrated through the deckplating, warning that their greeting party was large. Tasia eyed Walker nervously, noting the Jau were approaching closer than was comfortable. He shook his head sternly. The footsteps ceased; Walker's hand snapped closed into a fist to give the cue. Tasia depressed the detonator's trigger so violently she very nearly sprained her thumb in the process, though she failed to notice the resultant spike of pain in the midst of the deafening explosion that rocked the bay. Distinctively inhuman hisses issued from those Jau thrown by the concussive blast; crates closer to the doorway crashed and tumbled past Tasia's periphery. Jarred by the explosion, she was slow in peering around her crate to assess the damage, but once recovered Tasia was able to catch sight of Walker and the commandos subduing any remaining Jau. "There'll be more, I'm betting," she warned, joining them in the center of the carnage.
"And they won't fall for that again," Walker concluded, casually putting a bolt through the skull of a Jau that made the mistake of trying to struggle to its feet, and then surveying the arrangement of debris and corpses with grim satisfaction. "I'm happy to make this our official first date, if you like, chief, but I have to say I don't think much of your choice of restaurant."
Tasia assessed the ruined bay now decorated with the lifeless bodies of Jau and decided, "It's got character.
I kinda like it."
She smirked.
"We'd better move," Walker said. "From what the spacer said about this armour tech that bastard Jax has handed the Jau, if those stormtroopers can't knock out the generator on the flagship, the big guns on this pile might be the only thing that can touch that ship -might be. And I don't have a detailed knowledge of tactical space combat engagement protocols, but even a dirt-eatin' grunt like me knows a fight where one side can't hurt the other won't be a long one."
"In short," Tasia summarized with her usual witticism, "we don't have much time."
The soldiers were prodding the last of the fallen Jau with the toe of their boots; all the creatures had been dispatched.
"This way." Tasia strode away from the carnage towards the opposite wall. "We go through that door, we come head to head with their buddies. How are your knees, old man?"
Tasia crouched before a square panel of a meter in height.
She pulled a tool from her belt and touched it to the four corners of the panel; the tool whirred rapidly and the panel clattered to the ground. Peering up at Walker with smiling eyes, she offered, "You first."
Walker grunted, then squeezed his giant frame into the opening. "Why are these things always so bloody tiny?" he grumbled. Though the service tunnel was actually fairly generous in size by normal people standards, there wasn't a lot of light to be seen at the sides as the sergeant squirmed uncomfortably down into the gloom, soon followed by Tasia and the commando team, the last of whom sealed up the panel behind them to throw the second wave of Jau responders off for as long as possible.
A grunt suggested maybe the knees were indeed an issue, and then a grumbling voice, muffled by its owner's own bulk, filtered back to the crew chief. "I hope you're right about the Jau not having access to the schematics to this system. It won't be pretty if they're waiting for us at the other end."
"Oh, they have the schematics," Tasia assured him, grinning slyly.
She paused at a bend in the shaft but instead of entering the turn, Tasia shifted onto her backside and braced both feet against the facing wall.
With a swift thrust the metal panel detached and skittered down the hidden shift revealed by Tasia.
"The schematics, however," she informed Walker, "mention nothing about this.
They'll be waiting for us on the other side, but we'll never arrive." Tasia began crawling again.
"Sure, they'll figure it out sooner or later, but it'll give us some time."
Walker turned around in the tunnel with all the ease of a Calimari Cruiser and flashed the engineer a smile. "Now this, my dear, is why every day in your company is such a pleasure. I was right to convince that shifty one with the beady eyes planetside not to sell you to a pleasure palace."
Tasia paused a moment, seemingly affronted. "So...how much were they offering?"
There was a smile in her voice.
Walker paused for a minute to consider his answer. "I was on a detail that delivered a ransom for a kidnapped Falleen princess, once. It wasn't quite in that bracket, but it measured up very respectably, given they were dirtscratchin' smugglers who wouldn't normally have two creds to rub together."
"I'm surprised they would have been willing to pay anything considering the shape we were in."
Tasia's mind wandered to memories of their narrow escape from the arctic prison they had been forced onto by pursuing Jau many weeks ago.
They had nearly died, and would likely have if not for a fortunate encounter with an eccentric group of smugglers who had established a waypoint base on the polar continent. Upon stumbling upon the base, they were swiftly captured by the criminals, who did not take kindly to being discovered. It had taken much negotiation and a week or two in cages before they could convince the band of criminals they were not Tae'Morad attempting to infiltrate their cell by posing as shipwrecked civilians.
The definitive moment was instigated by Walker who goaded the gang's cocksure leader into a triathlon of sorts involving a drinking contest, a bare-fisted boxing match, and an unannounced staring competition.
This all ended with Walker and the Klatooinian sharing bawdy tales and raucus laughter until the sun came up, with Tasia watching on in dull amusement. "You two became so friendly in the end, I was sure you'd dump me to run off with him."
"What, and miss all this fun?" Walker retorted. "I think it was the slicer that was more interested in sticking around. If they'd had a better heating system he might still be there!" Their companion Ty had taken a keen professional interest in the surprisingly sophisticated tech setup that the smugglers had used to avoid the detection of their activities by the Jau.
"Depending on how things turn out here, I might just need to look for new employment anyway."
Tasia pointed up ahead at a panel where a small crack of light angled into the shaft through one of its seams.
"We may need to cut through," she whispered back at the team and gestured for the required tool. "And a thermal scanner," Tasia added.
Both tools were passed down the line her way.
She backed into the next turn, leaving room for Walker to move up.
She handed him the scanner. "I'll start cutting. Tell me if anyone - or thing - is coming."
The energy cutter's internal servos whirred shrilly as she worked at cutting away the panel.
Tasia smiled faintly at Walker.
"After this, there's no turning back, you know.
We've cheated death long enough - our luck might just have run out, big man."
Walker grinned. "Death's had plenty of chances with me. I figure with the amount of times he's already passed me over, he must have lost interest entirely." The sliced panel dropped away with a dull metallic clang, revealing beyond a dark and quiet corner of a lower level of the station. No-one was visible. Walker ducked his head out of the opening to make sure all was clear, and then signalled to the team to move out. "Right. Last one to fire control buys the drinks," he warned.
Tasia lithely emerged from the shaft.
"Never have I had to pay for my own drinks, and I'm not about to start now," she informed Walker confidently.
She jostled him playfully as she passed; their soldier companions fell into step behind Tasia, who led the way to the cargo lift.
They remained unimpeded as they reached the lift.
"Signal us when you've reached the top," she told the group of six who were to make the first trip up.
They nodded curtly as the doors closed. The trip seemed to take longer than usual, but it was only after five minutes of dead silence did Tasia experience a sense of dread. "The trip up should take no more than two minutes, thirty seconds.
I've made that flight up myself thousands of times." She frowned.
"Something's wrong."
Cursing in a rather unlady-like fashion, Tasia pried open the lift's control panel and began overriding the doors.
"That lift's not coming back down.
So--" the doors lurched open to reveal the darkened shaft "--we climb.
We'll need a less direct route. They must've been waiting for us."
"Not good," Walker growled, his anger at the probable fate of the men they had sent ahead clear in his voice. He hefted his giant blaster onto his back, and retrieved a datapad from a pouch on his armour. Tasia and the remaining soldiers watched as he tapped away furiously with a look of concentration on his face until a grim smile touched his lips. He tossed the pad to Tasia so she could see the blueprints displayed on it. "Lizards are gonna pay for that. We can switch to the adjacent shaft halfway up, drop through into the power conduit maintenance room and cut through the floor here. They won't see that comin'," the solider concluded with grim satisfaction.
Tasia pocketed the pad, wearing a cheeky smile.
"I knew I kept you around for a reason..."
She reached into the dark, empty shaft and pulled herself onto the ladder's rung for the long haul up.
“Hanging By a Thread, Part 1"
By A’Kin
Iyika
Korva Valkier
Chewie
Location: Streets of New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 28, 5ABY
***
Search lights cut the black night sky as effectively as a Jedi’s lightsaber. High above the search lights tiny dots would appear and suddenly vanish a moment later. If anyone in the streets had gazed upwards, they’d know death was above them.
But then, death was amongst them already.
“Where the hell is he?!” Not for the first time, the resistance trooper shouted over the incoming fire. The blasts chipped away at the wall, Sinclair curled himself even tighter into a ball, jaw clenched against screaming.
John S Sinclair was this cell’s commanding officer. So many civilians had wanted to fight, the problem there were so few weapons to hand out - the rebel commanders hadn’t foreseen the impact the Jau’s destruction would bring, the flood of thousands at the start later seemed like a picnic compared to the numbers that had arrived. Iyika’s father had been right, damn him. The brief spell of grief had past. Now all that was left was pain. Hatred and pain.
It was plastered on everyone’s face.
“Come on! We can teach these fucke---!” The man didn’t have the chance to finish what he’d started. Standing up from the cover, the eagerness on his face replaced with surprise and horror, before it vanished in a spray of liquefied bone and flesh. They were pinned and weren’t about to leave anytime soon.
“Where is---?” Iyika grabbed the man by his collar slamming him roughly against the wall. Skin scrapped against the hard surface.
“He gets here, when he gets here,” she cursed, hissing the words in the way only she could. “I suggest you see to your men, if they run they’ll be cut down without mercy. We have to stay and hold, until the reinforcements arrive.”
The faith she had in her father was unmoveable. Yet the fact was, she wasn’t only putting her faith in her father, but a great many others. Turning she looked past the civilians playing soldier, to the street corner two hundred metres behind them, where the street curved to the right vanishing from sight. The reinforcements would come from there. All they had to do was wait.
Wait and pray.
More screams filled her ears. Turning she fired once more hitting a Jau full in the face. That made those around think twice, all seeking cover. “Come on father...” she whispered to herself.
****
“Come on!” his voice, harsh with anger and frustration. Again he stepped to the edge treeline eyes glancing upwards to the sky. Nothing. Where the hell was he? He’d come recommended by so many. Had they all been wrong? Many had classed the freighter as close to the legendary Millennium Falcon as the real thing, but it didn’t matter what kind of beast lay beneath, it was who control her that counted.
“Contact!”
“Direction!?” A’Kin called, spinning around returning to the six men with him. More lay further back, awaiting the all clear. These were the only one who carried weapons. Kulrin’s face was lit up by the blue screen in front of him as he worked the controls. It showed two blips coming towards them, and they coming in way too fast.
“North east, and sir... they’re coming in hot.”
A growl escaped the Kel’Ishan’s throat, deep and laced with the pent up anger he was feeling. They heard afterburners before seeing them. The wash of superheated air, mixing with the relatively cold air in their surroundings, creating the booming noise they all heard. A sleek black freighter came into view flying in-between two buildings. Explosions followed in her wake, energy pulses ripping into the office blocks destroying everything in their paths.
The sleek black YT-1300 flew straight over A’Kin’s position, trees left swaying in the jet wash, the stink of ozone and burning plasma in the air. Shielding his face with a hand A’Kin tracked the second craft.
A Jau fighter.
Where the fuck had he come from?
****
The Wraith banked hard to the right, pushing them both into their seats, harness straps straining to keep them in place. Chowe growled in protest, which was fast becoming almost a common occurrence now. “Stop complaining!” Korva shouted, as more gunfire flashed past the cockpit. Diving lower, hugging the streets like a bad smell, the gunfire ripped up into the tarmac kicking up puffs of smoke and debris.
Chowe growled again. “I know! I know!” he cursed pulling on the controls. The street he’d taken was coming to a sudden and very fatal end. The Wraith pulled up to the right, windows smashing in the jet wash of the freighter. Those that survived, a miracle in itself, were blown apart by incoming fire. A four level store was completely gutted, one energy pulse finding something explosive as the blast tore up through the building ripping it open throwing burning debris into the street.
“Will you shut up!” Korva cried out, getting more and more tired of the Wookiee’s complaining. “If you say another world, I’ll kill you myself!” Chowe turned, looking at his friend almost tempted to put the threat to the test, but he shook his head firing another volley at the Jau fighter. “It’s not like I intentionally sort this fucker! A simple run you said, help the resistance you said... deliver a few choice items to help fight the Jau you said...” Chowe’s mouth opened, about to respond when Korva turned sharply in his direction, hand leaving the controls, finger pointing accusingly at the Wookiee. “Don’t even start with me! This is your fault and you’re not going to wiggle your way out of it!”
The Wraith shook, hit by the almost constant stream of gunfire. Even with the skills Korva hand, honed and steeled by Imperial training, he could only do so much and the enemy pilot was a frething good one. “I just want you to know that in case we die. This is all your fault. So you better come up with something fast!”
Chowe growled, head shaking, paws slamming into the controls in front of him. Whether on purpose, by some divine intervention, or blind luck, Chowe’s paw had triggered the fire sequence of their concussion missiles. The missiles, two rather expensive weapons Korva had commented on numerous occasions, shrieked forward from the Wraith.
Stunned silence fell in the cockpit.
A bemused Korva watched the smoke trails of the missiles. Without a target to engage the missiles banked in opposite directions slamming into the buildings on either side of the street, exploding within. The blasts tore up through the structure of the buildings, weakening it to the point of collapse. Gravity did the rest.
“Holly--!” Unable to finish the thought Korva pushed the Wraith forward. Debris bounced off the ship, the two buildings leaning over them, spilling their guts all around. “Come on baby! Move your fat ass!” The buildings collided with one another above, the world seemed to shake, everything turning to madness.
Korva cried out. A Wookiee roared.
An explosion lit up the street with flames.
A sleep black ship came out of the night. She banked around coming down into a controlled descent, landing in the open grass field, which swayed in the downthrust of the craft. Not even waiting for her to touch down men scrambled from the treeline, waving and cheering, Korva ignored them all, eyes turning to his partner. “You even try and claim that, I’ll shoot you.”
Chowe just chuckled.
“Hanging By a Thread, Part 2”
By A’Kin
Iyika
Korva Valkier
Chowe
Location: Streets of New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 28, 5ABY
***
Unable to help the grin A’Kin stepped out from the trees, with a little more control than the men and women with him, though only just. It took a great deal of willpower to stop himself joining in with the celebrations. No matter how premature they may have been, it still felt like a victory. The freighter touched down, the loading ramp hitting the grass pushing down into the soft topsoil. Men and women ran up and begun offloading the crates of weapons and supplies.
The Kel’Ishan ignored all this. They all knew what he was after. His eyes quickly located the hardware he’d been waiting for. The grin broadened. If anyone had seen the look on his face at that moment, they’d have paused, and prayed to any deity they believed in, not to get in his path.
“I’m coming my daughter...” A’Kin whispered, imagining his daughter could somehow hear. His boots echoed in the dimly light cargo hold. “... and I’m bringing a friend.”
****
“We’re getting creamed!” Sinclair shouted, wiping blood from his right eye. The steady stream had come from gash to the forehead, an annoyance more than anything. “We have to pull back!” A missile streaked overhead up into the building to their right, the explosion rained glass and debris on several rebels, trying to set up a support gun.
“We can’t fall back!” Iyika reminded him. The human shook his head, firing over the wall hitting several Jau. None fell.
“I know... I know!” Sinclair cursed. The frustration eating him up. He’d watched too many good men and women cut down. Where were the blasted reinforcements!
Another missile shrieked overhead, flying dangerously close he felt the heat from its burners. Will they ever stop? Wait... That missile had flown in the opposite direction! Glancing up over the wall he saw flames wrapping its tender touch around three Jau warriors. Blinking he turned. A second missile came around the far corner of the street, shrieking past the now cheering rebel fighters. Eyes tracked the missiles path until it struck the Jau transport a dozen metres before the enemy’s line. The vehicle bounced from the impact, missile puncturing its armour, before it vanished in a ball of flame.
A sound caught his ears. A sound he’d never heard before. A whining together with a loud repeating boom. The ground shook with each. A silhouette could be made out through the smoke left by the missiles. Gradually it dissipated. Sinclair, among many others, gasped.
Iyika just smiled. “About time.”
A Stalker-Tank.
It walked on two legs, the booming noise Sinclair had heard were its footfalls, cracking concrete under its weight. Its arms ended with gun emplacements. These roared as if in anger. High calibre rounds tore into the Jau line. Armour and flesh were ripped apart, limbs severed from bodies, heads vanished in sprays of gore. Auto-loaded launchers folded up onto both the tank’s shoulders, locking in place. The Stalker paused, bracing against the force as two missiles were launched. The explosions tossed Jau soldiers like a child tossing ragdolls.
The Stalker wasn’t alone. Rebels poured around the corner, lending their own fire to the tank’s. Though some fell to enemy fire what the Jau spat in defiance was little compared to what was returned.
“FOR TAE!” A single soldier had shouted it, his voice managing to rise above the almost deafening fire fight. It was a battle cry that was repeated time and time again. Not just in the streets, in New Plouton, but across the world, and in space.
A’Kin, walking the Stalker forward, locking onto another target and firing, had seen this coming. Seen what madness the Jau had brought on themselves. Of course many wouldn’t have thought he’d be a part of it. But this was his home now. There was no other way it could have been.
The battle for Tae’Karada was by no means a certainty, but with so many willing to fight, the Jau Empire’s interest in the planet was now hanging by a thread. A thread A’Kin, and the populace of Tae, wanted cut.
"Back In The Fight"
by Chun Li, escort pilot
Location: Around Drogen Station
Date: Rheudis 28, 5 ABY
***
"1 minute to reversion," the computer said.
Li looked up from the book she was reading.
Putting the datapad away she started the pre-reversion procedures, mainly putting on the shields and checking if everything ran correctly.
"20 seconds to reversion," the computer said next.
"Almost there, Axon," Li said to her droid, "it will be good to stretch my legs."
Axon beeped that he too would like to be out of the fighter, specially since it wasn't designed with droids in mind.
Li had taken a small group of rebels with an old beat-up light freighter to Station K-19, where she had found all those missiles and TIE fighters.
They had loaded as much as they could and then jumped back to their base.
Li had gone with them except for the last leg of the trip, where she had opted to go back to Chimeara instead.
As she reversed back out of hyperspace, Li was glad she always thought to put on the shields.
She had arrived in the middle of what looked like a major fight between some unknown forces and the Jau.
Well, Li didn't have much use for the Jau, so when a 'rebel' fighter passed by, followed by a Jau fighter, it was fairly easy to sideslip behind the Jau and fire a concussion missile in his exhausts.
With that immediate threat gone, she took the time to look around with her sensors.
There was a big capital ship which pumped out enough energy to be a big blob on the sensor display and also a number of smaller capital ships and fighters.
Well, for now she would have to focus on the fighters.
With her shields evened out, she flew in.
She quickly found some targets, again a couple of Jau fighters following some rebels.
Slipping in behind them, she fired another missile from short range.
The Jau wingman didn't have time to dodge, but neither had
Li the time to dodge the fragments of the desintegrating fighter.
Luckily for her the shields held, even though they drained a bit.
She reinforced them with energy drawn from the lasers, which were next to useless anyways.
But the time she needed to dispatch the wingman was enough for the other pilot to kill the rebel and concentrate on Li.
"Watch our backs," Li said to Axon as she tried to follow the Jau fighter.
The things had a slight advantage in manouvrability compared to her gunboat, but with her third engine she actually was a little bit faster, although not by much.
Axon beeped an affirmative while Li tried to follow her adversary and the computer worked on a missile lock.
The constant movements of the Jau didn't make it easy, but of course she would do the same if she was in his position.
Finally she achieved a lock and fired another concussion missile.
The missile exploded against the fighter, but a sudden sharp turn made that the lethal shot wasn't.
It did take him out of the battle though, otherwise he would be an easy prey, even for a Y-wing.
She had just finished of the Jau when Axon beeped and at the same time the aft blasters opened up.
While they did absolutely nothing against the Jau, the flashes against his cockpit might distract him enough to make him miss.
She accelerated and moved towards the main fight where she might be able to shake her persuit.
She flew full speed through the dogfight, using her lasers on Jau ships when she thought she had a lock.
They didn't do much either, but when she arrived at the other end of the main fight, she had lost her trailer.
Now the rebels had also figured out she was there.
"Rebel forces," Li said over the comm, using the voice distortion device she had installed recently, "please tag me as friendly."
She didn't have the time to say more as she had finished her turn and headed back in, lasers cycling as fast as they could while the computer was working on missile locks.
"Repairs and Calibrations"
Cole Slaton
Dral Ordo
Location: Yandrosa District, New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 28, 5 ABY
***
The rain was hitting the roof. Though the noise was muffled where he had been sleeping, it was one of those sounds that caught the ear. This is how Cole came to be standing on the balcony, leaning forward on the railing, staring out into the storm. It had crept overhead like a silent stalker, now stretching from horizon to horizon, the storm didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon.
A bolt of lightening flashed through the sky, branching off into several small sisters, before only the after image was left on Cole's retina. With the rumble of thunder soon following, and having counted previous, Cole knew the storm was leaving.
"Can't sleep?" Dral asked Cole from inside the adjacent room. The two rooms connected via the balcony, and despite Dral not actually seeing the young man from where he sat he knew he was there. Although not wearing his mandalorian armor, he still wore the helmet as its intricate systems helped him with the repairs he was conducting on his verpine shatter gun. He was almost done replacing the parts that had been made into scrap by Cole's lightsaber.
Dral pulled on the blaster, inserted the clip and pointed it towards the wall. "Just have to align the sight, check the optics and it should be as good as new," he said mostly to himself. Verpine shatter guns were indeed some of the most lethal weapons someone could use. Silent and fast and most deadly, they could be customized to play out a variety of uses. Dral got up and walked towards the balcony as well. "If you can't sleep you might as well help me align these..."
Cole winced at the weapon, feeling a little guilty in damaging it. Strangely Dral had not seemed angry at picking up the pieces, or as he sat at the bench working methodically, every movement precise. The hours they'd spent together Cole had seen him tending the rifle like a closer personal friend, surely he should have been a little angry?
"What do you need me to do?" he asked turning away from the receding storm.
"Well, the first thing you have to do to repair a weapon is to hold one. Here..." he said as he handed Cole his verpine shatter gun. Although it wasn't a laser shooting weapon, and would not cauterize the wounds when it hit flesh, it was a work that only a brilliant weapons engineer could think of. Lightweight, nearly silent, excellent range and accuracy, and inflicted extremely large amounts of kinetic damage. "When shooting a weapon, be it a low grade concussion rifle, a blaster or a magnetic coil weapon, such as this one, the principle is always the same. Try to have a firm stance, control your breathing and look at what you're shooting at instead of the weapon itself. Count for movement and wind speed. And remember, squeeze the trigger, don't yank at it," he told Cole.
Dral then looked over the balcony into the rainy night. "We need a target... You see that moving hover-billboard? Take out one of its lights."
The scatter gun was lighter than he thought. Sleek and cold. The touch of it against his chin surprised him. The smooth surface against his skin. Looking along the sight he aimed towards the hovering billboard, currently showing the weather for the next twenty four hours.
The first shot went wide, the projectile impeding itself in the wall of the building across the street. A few inches to the right and it would have entered through a window. It was rougher than it looked.
The shot was a little too far to the right, and lower than it should have been. Dral handed over a tool for Cole to adjust the sight. "It needs to be brought down a little and adjusted two clicks to the right," he told the young man.
Adjusting his aim. Fired again.
The second shot was a little too low. Although better than the first, it still missed the target. Luckily, the weapon was silent and the cover of the storm made for an excellent grounds for practice without raising any unwanted alarms. The mandalorian pointed out to where the shot had struck. "Bring it back slightly upwards. And remember to steady your breathing, especially for long distance shots."
Licking his lips he could feel the rise and fall of the rifle with each breath. Allowing the breathe to escape from his lung he fired again. The light flickered out. A clean hit.
"Good," Dral nodded. He took back the weapon and rechecked the sight. He used his helmet telemetries to point out the trajectory should he fire a shot and report back what would happen, so he could find out if Cole had adjusted it just right. It was in perfect condition once more. "That was a good shot, especially considering those hover-billboards aren't exactly still."
Smiling taking the praise, Cole didn't mention he'd used the Force to guide him. The idea had popped in his head without warning. It seemed too simple looking back. If the Force could guide him during one form of combat, why not another? Or in fact all?
"Remember... Stance, breathing, looking. Sometimes it is better to take the proper time to take a shot, than just shoot randomly," Dral told Cole. Truth was that there was a lot more to it, but the rest would have to come with time and practice. "And we chose a billboard, but a moving person or vehicle is harder. You have to account for their movements and possible routes, turns they might do unexpectedly. A blaster may not be the most elegant weapons there is, but it is as lethal as anything else if properly handled."
Dral then walked back inside the room and placed the verpine shatter gun on the table. "We should pick you one if you are to practice and learn about them. What's your preference?"
Cole had already begun to ask that question himself. "The scatter gun..." he said. Dral was an experienced fighter, having used weapons of a wide variety, and knowing his weapons he wouldn't have chosen his own lightly. "... but also, two smaller compact pistols. Though yet not lacking on power." Cole quickly added. Cole had asked about the pistols before he realized what he was doing. Somehow it felt right. Perhaps they'd come in handy.
"Verpine are indeed a work of art. Not cheap nor easily maintained, but truly an upper cast of weapons," Dral nodded. "I can show you ways of shooting it without giving away your position and staying virtually a ghost. With the right preparation, it is possible to have the shells disintegrate upon impact. We shall get you one. I also have a series of Westar-34 blasters that I think you will like. They are of very rapid fire and are very effective at close range. You can have those."
A ghost. Cole liked the sound of that. "I will pay for the weapons." Cole didn't want to owe Dral anymore. There was so much he owed the man already, and they had barely begun. "I already owe you so much..." A place to sleep. Food. The training wasn't the sole reason for Cole staying with Dral, though that was the main, it gave him the chance to think and reflect. From the moment he left the Jedi Temple, to arriving at the street facing off against Dral, seemed to have happened in a blink of an eye. What Cole needed was time, time to adjust, time to look back and actually think on what he'd done, and where he wanted to go next. A question Cole found difficult to answer.
Dral took off his helmet, his face's leathery gray skin with creases and piercing orange eyes showing, the sharp angles along the cheekbones and chin giving him a stern look, and long jet black hair perfectly tied. Dral knew that his looks were alien to most, and many even thought him to have a more menacing look without his helmet on. Taung weren't very expressive, perhaps a trait of being bred for war, and Dral was no exception to that fact.
Still, he chuckled. Cole wanting to chip in showed how serious he was to committing himself, which pleased Dral in a certain way. A mandalorian would not pass on his knowledge lightly, and when he did it was good to do so with someone who took it seriously. He wasn't even sure Cole had credits to pay for anything, but the mere assumption that he was willing was reassuring in a certain way. "I have not used the Westar-34 blasters for quite a while. After having purchased a verpine shatter hand held gun, I kept the Westars as backup. You might as well take them. Finding a Verpine sniper for you will be hard enough, and they usually don't go around for less than fifteen thousand credits..."
Eyes wide, a soft wisp of air escaping in a gasp. The amount shocked Cole. That much for a weapon? His hand reached his lightsabers, tucked under his jacket, realizing how much the energy blade could have cost Dral. Luckily the mandalorian had repaired the rifle. "I will pay my way, though it may take a while, I will repay this debt. Until then I can go with you, help where I am needed." The young man purposefully left the decision to Dral, knowing he'd found a new master, and it wasn't the Padawan's place to make decisions, only to act, to learn and to obey.
"Ironically, nowadays you may have found one of the few mandalorians for whom money is not an object," Dral commented. So, it was true that Cole didn't possess the financial means to support such a cost. Not everyone did, and even some who could would not want to spend such amounts on a mere weapon. Of course, those people didn't really understand what an asset it could be.
"It may seem strange to find a mercenary not interested in money, but think of it this way... A merc is a weapon, and a weapon by itself is not dangerous, the hand that wields it is. What is important, however, is that whatever mission you compromise to, is one that is honorable, and that you fulfill your end of the deal," he told Cole. It wasn't exactly what mercenaries would say, and that included mandalorians. But it was true for Dral. "As for the verpine shatter gun, we can figure out a way you can earn it. I've earned more than enough to cover that sort of expense back in my days."
There had been doubts, deep in the recess of Cole's mind, that meeting Dral hadn't been the Force, but the longer he spent with him, the more he was beginning to learn and see just how much the Jedi, and Sith, were denying themselves. Yes, some of what he'd learn from Dral he wouldn't use on a day-to-day basis, but the knowledge will
undoubtably save his life. "I will repay the debt to you Master Dral, you have my word."
"Your word of honor is the highest pact a mandalorian has..." Dral told Cole. He wanted the boy to understand what he was up for, even if he wasn't a mandalorian himself. But the Taung knew that bringing the full fledged aspects of it all were probably more than Cole would understand at this point. Perhaps in given time he could begin to see what it all should mean for Dral, that Dral passing on his knowledge was something that would make Cole illegible for being formally adopted. But even Dral Ordo had his reserves on doing such a thing. After all, they had just met.
"Oh, and you don't need to call me master. Just Dral will suffice."
"Dral..." Cole spoke almost muttering the name, testing it, before a smile crept into view. The young man didn't know what path he was setting himself on, no man would truly know the future.
“Anger and Pain”
A’Kin
Iyika
Date: Rheudis 28, 5 ABY
Location: New Plouton
***
The light hanging from the ceiling flickered. His tiring and strained eyes glanced up towards them in irritation. The power systems were fluctuating all across the city. The reason was as plain as the nose on his aging face. The scene that had, up to know, filled his mind. Thanatos. The city was now a burning hollow, nothing more than a relic of what it was. The holo-vid showed the burning city, fires raging out of control. The holo-feed was live, and in background several miles away a building collapsed. Where there survivors inside? Praying to be rescued, hoping beyond hope that they would survive? Blinked through the grittiness of his eyes he carried on watching as gravity, having finally overcome the weakened frame, pulled the structure down engulfing the area in a suffocating dust cloud.
“Mark me Campbell, this won’t go long without a response.”
“We’ve received reliable intel, that more than 20-thousand have sort entrance into the rebels. Its unprecedented. I don’t think they even have enough weapons for them all.”
“Unprecedented? No my friend, far from it.” Ignoring the confused look his friend gave him, A’Kin rose from behind his desk, the light from the monitor creating shifting shadows across the back wall. Stepping up to the window he gazed out. The city was silent for now, or as silent as any city could be.
A siren past just within hearing before vanishing a few heartbeats later.
The Kel’Ishan knew this was just the calm before the storm.
“The planet is in shock,” he begun, not turning to see if Campbell was listening, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Soon there will be grief and mourning, and following that...” There was short pause before he continued. “Anger and pain.”
It will begin slowly, like a small naked flame taking route. The fire quickly takes hold as more material is heated and burned, allowing it to spread until eventually the whole room, if not the whole building, is consumed. A raging inferno. The planet could fall, so easily, if not handled with care.
“They will use that anger, will they not?” A’Kin turned to his faithful companion of almost a dozen years, and shrugged in response.
“Undoubtedly.” The idea of them not using this burning rage was ludicrous. “Whether it be the self-appointed generals, or commanders of these rebels, the Jedi or whatever faction exists, they will use it. For good or ill? Who can say.”
“You sound as if it’s already happened.”
Again the Kel’Ishan shrugged, returning to watching the city. “Before this is over, the streets will run red with blood my friend.” But by the time A’Kin had spoke Campbell had already left, the room was eerily silent. “Are you going to show yourself? Or am I going to have to appear insane, and talk to myself.”
There was a silent muffled noise in the far corner before the air shimmered, as if caught in the haze of rising temperatures, revealing a tall strikingly beautiful woman. The woman bowed her head in acknowledgement. Not many knew they were being stalked by her, until she wanted them to know, at which times death soon followed on swift wings. “Father,” she began, an almost lazy feline smile taking hold. “You don’t believe it will come to that?”
“I wouldn’t have said if I didn’t.” A’Kin replied, taking his seat once more. As he did his adopted daughter jumped onto his table, sliding to the end just far enough to pull her legs around, crossing them at the knee. She could make men weep, of which she was well aware.
There was a long stretched out silence, A’Kin could feel the tension in the room building. “You’ve got something on your mind?” he asked.
“What? I couldn’t pop in to see my father? I have to have a motive?” Her acting skills, though would never land her in a holo-novel (though maybe a holo-soap opera, as some of their acting was a lot to be desired), her attempts at innocence were laughable at best.
“Pretty much,” A’Kin said, leaning back on his chair, crossing his arms. “What’s on your mind, and the way you acting I’m not going to like it, am I?” Iyika sighed. Definitely won’t like it he thought, stealing himself to the bombshell that was about to drop.
“I’m going to help the rebels.” There it was out the bag. Finally. Her eyes half closed, wincing as she expected the tongue lashing that never came. Slowly, her eyes looked towards her father, who... very surprisingly... wore a very knowing smile. Which unsurprisingly made Iyika downright furious.
“I had a feeling you would. You’ve always been, how do the humans say it? Gung-ho?” A’Kin shook his head, knowing full well what saying humans used, as Iyika well knew. “I’ve made arrangements.”
The two spoke long into the night.
The ceiling light flickered above them.
"Loading Up the Troops"
By: Rylaa Lyssander
Jedi Master Laedra Vorrel
Jedi Nieme Yaresh
Location: Outskirts of Arcadia
Date: Rheudis 28, 5 ABY
***
Shrouded in darkness and further obscured by their dark robes, a small Jedi army amassed at Rylaa Lyssander's prefabricated base on the outskirts of Arcadia. Jedi Master Darr had reluctantly agreed to join forces with the crimelord, for the cause was too great to worry about reputation. Together with Master Brael they stood facing his neatly filed ranks of specially trained mercenaries; Laedra was not overly concerned with the likely checkered past of those men they were now to fight side by side with - the greater good prevailed over any doubts she might have.
The Jedi masters had selected only the finest of their Padawans and Knights to participate in the battle; this included Nieme and Dani, both deemed stable enough to subject themselves to the strain of what was to come. With Kael nowhere to be found, having left the Temple with Raeila months ago to await the arrival of their child, their ranks were thin and only Nieme and Dani were available to fill his place. It might later prove an error in judgement, but they could spare no one when everything was at stake. So together they all stood, awaiting the signal to move out.
Knowing full well the Jau were invulnerable to their lightsabers, the Jedi had spent these past months training to master the bladed saber that now hung at their hip; their lightsabers rested against the other, more for ceremony than practicality. There had been a period of adjustment to the weapons, acclimating to the sound of steel clashing in place of the more familiar thrum, and growing accustomed to the difference in weight as compared to their lightsabers. Although time to become disciplined in their new bladed weapon was short, there was a collective sense of readiness among the Masters. More focus would be required when using the sabers, for the sensation, the grotesque sound of blade piercing flesh would be disconcerting, even to a seasoned Jedi, but the ten standing outside in the chill Tae'Karadan night did not waver as Lyssander's commander readied his men.
The plan was to wait until the generator ship had been destroyed to move out. Their target that night: the palace. Confusion and panic would hopefully be the acquired effect when the tide of battle in space turned in favour of the rebels; forces in the palace might be diverted to assist their brethren, or at the least be thrown into so much disarray as to be unprepared for an invasion. The team now assembled in the base, however, was prepared and knew their ultimate goal: fight their way to the Jau leader and dethrone him. He would be heavily guarded, but success was imperative. If he survived, the Jau would rebuild their army and all hope would be lost. They would not get another chance at this, for their attack would be a surprise this time; next time, the Jau would be ready for them.
All eyes were riveted to the commander as he paced up and down the ranks of straight backed, attentive soldiers, delivering a rousing speech intended to inspire his men, to bolster any wavering spirits with a sense of purpose and determination. Many would not return from the fight, but each of them was crucial to their success and this he impressed upon them. Their service to the planet and its people would not be forgotten, and, of course, generously rewarded. The soldiers saluted the commander and trotted off in an organized pattern to their assigned squads, one in every two carrying a large canvas backpack full of fist sized metal balls. Laedra tipped her head at their leader. "Are we ready?"
The seasoned veteran lifted the wide aviator sunshades that made some very naughty eyes at the lovely Jedi Master. "Ready as we'll ever be," he replied as the unlit cheroot he habitually kept in his mouth shifted from side to side. It was a custom among the Ironbreakers company, although calling a bare hundred men a company was laughable, that the cheroot wouldn't be smoked until after the fight commenced.
Rylaa stood nearby with the nearly five hundred remaining members of the New Dawn crime syndicate and watched his mercenaries with the smug air of one who pulled a great many strings and dirty tricks to achieve a goal. It had been a major pain in the rear trying to smuggle the hundred men and their equipment onto the planet but here they were. Along with their specially designed superheavy launcher weapons too. Rylaa made several mental notes to "persuade" one of the mercs into giving up his weapon so his engineers can "discover" the technology. Although cornering the market would be tough. The Techno Union had been using gauss technology for years, though mostly at the capital ship scale and not the two-man units like these.
The weapons themselves were a far cry from works of art. The long brushed metal barrels were devoid of markings, paint, and other accouterments that mercs habitually festooned their weapons with. They were almost laughably simple to operate, Rylaa discovered, requiring only a slug of nickel-cadmium and a powerful fusion battery to fire. The long barrel housed some sort of magnet relay system, the crimelord surmised, that propelled the supermagnetic alloy into hypersonic speeds which ended in knee weakening, bowel loosening, devastation.
"Alright this is what we're planning on doing," the mercenary commander continued. Rylaa blinked and realized that he had been daydreaming a bit. "Half the company is going to take position in and around the spaceport while the other half surrounds the palace at strategic intervals. When the attack starts the spaceport team will be acting as air cover to make sure not a damned thing lifts off. Our babies are strong enough to put a fist sized hole into even a fair sized cargo hauler so don't you worry about that. The palace team will be responsible for covering the Jedi and the foot troopers slugging it out at the palace itself. 'Course we won't be able to do anything until that shield comes down."
"Don't you worry about that," Rylaa said. "I've got people in place ready to infiltrate the mothership."
"You seem to have people everywhere, Mr. Lyssander," Laedra noted. "How far, exactly, does your reach extend on this planet? Enough to benefit greatly from the elimination of the Jau?" She smiled knowingly. "Am I correct?"
Rylaa grinned. "That, of course, goes without saying. Very rarely do I do something without any benefit to myself. As to my reach on this planet," the crimelord chuckled knowingly as did the men and women around him, "that depends on the outcome of our little excursion. If we fail, then I doubt either of us will be around to care."
"But if we do survive," Laedra countered, "we will all have a duty to ensure Tae'Karada recovers from this. The planet and its people will be weak, and vulnerable, and they do not need certain avaricious elements" --she eyed him pointedly-- "preying on that weakness for gain. The people need charity, and as you are a very generous man, I am certain you will extend the people of Tae'karada the courtesy of not exploiting their diminished state to enhance your monetary status."
"Master Vorrel," Rylaa said in mock admonishment, "you wound me and do me wrong. I do not claim to be the best man in the galaxy, with a heart of gold and pearly white teeth. I know what I am. But I'm also quite the fervent patriot of my adopted home world. If my actions haven't proven this over and over again I doubt very much that you would even be here talking with me."
Lorgal nudged the pudgy man and looked at him knowingly. "But we get a bit off track. My men in space have signaled that they are ready whenever we are. I've got them hidden in one of the abandoned orbital stations with one of the best sensor masks credits can buy. When we tell them to they'll strike the Jau mothership and buy enough time for our saboteurs to slip in and disable the shield generator. I believe you have a Jedi with this group?"
"Master Darr and Master Zaneth are among them," Laedra affirmed. Her gaze was diverted to a stout male soldier who had trotted beside Rylaa. He saluted the crimelord half-heartedly. "Lord Lyssander" -- Laedra quirked an eyebrow at Rylaa, amused by the titled bestowed upon him-- "the team in orbit reports Drogen station has been seized. Its turrets have been turned towards the mothership. They expect to breach the Jau defenses within the hour."
"This sounds like a fitting time to get into position," concluded Laedra.
"Agreed," Rylaa said and tossed a casual wave towards the direction of his head that might be considered a salute by some. "Signal the infiltration team and prepare for the assault."
Laedra nodded towards her team of Jedi who moved off in unison to their assigned transport vehicle. She turned back to Rylaa and bowed deeply. "May the Force be with you, Mr. Lyssander." Her smile was almost teasing. "As much as you may detest it, this is a good thing you are doing. The Jedi will not forget this."
"Trust me," Rylaa replied with his trademark charming smile, "neither will I. The Force be with you as well Master Jedi." The criminal snapped his fingers and turned to enter his command vehicle, entourage in tow. As the Jedi filed into their transport, Nieme Yaresh stood by, studying the doughy crimelord as two of his men struggled to heft him into the vehicle. Laedra paused beside the young Jedi, noting her puzzled expression. "Are you certain about this, Master? He is going to help us defeat the Jau?"
Laedra suppressed a chuckle. "I would not have agreed to this if I did not sense something noble in the man. He will come through." She winked at Nieme. "Trust me." Still curiously pondering Rylaa, Nieme followed Master Vorrel into their hover transport, prepared for Rylaa Lyssander to prove them all wrong.
***
"Can we trust them?" one of the New Dawn officers asked Rylaa as he settled his considerable bulk into his captain's chair.
"Of course we can trust them," the crimelord snapped. "They're Jedi, almost predictable to a fault. Running them only became easier as the targets were on their list too. Soon this planet will be eating out of our palms, and the Jedi will have no choice but to stand around and let the creature they created do its worst." He couldn't stop himself. He knew there was no logical reason for this reaction and his neck hurt from the effort of trying not to let it come. It came anyway.
Rylaa threw his head back and laughed maniacally like a B-rated holovid villain.