Fremen ‘Kazack’ Talla was on the large, sparsely inhabited, bridge of the Iron Duke monitoring incoming transmissions from VE ships on the other side of the run, the Iron Duke had departed Huur Station after more than twelve standard hours. Commodore Atrasin had taken the Iron Duke on a patrol run throughout this side of the Corellian Run to see if he could draw the hands of any of the VE’s mysterious enemies. At the moment the Commodore was sitting in his chair, in the middle of the bridge, where he could see everything going on. Kazack had made two minor fumbles today which he knew had drawn the Commodore’s eye. However, he had forced himself to calm down and approach the work of a Bridge Officer slowly and methodically. He grimaced at the thought of how far his life had come, it seemed like weeks, not days ago that he had been a TIE Pilot, now he was a Bridge Officer, talk about career defining moments.

“At least I know I won’t stuff up again” Kazack thought to himself. Suddenly, something on the VE transmissions screen drew his eyes, they were on an encrypted VE channel, but the signals the comms were transmitting were not VE! Kazack quickly drew the eye of the communications officer, who had also picked the strange transmissions. The Comms Officer made his way over to Kazack.
“Are you picking that up?” The officer asked.  “Yes” Kazack replied, “These are not VE codes yet we are on an encrypted channel.” The two of them were talking quietly until they drew the attention of Captain Mallou, who was directing the operations on the bridge. After being told what was going on Captain Mallou had Kazack transfer the codes to her datapad and she went to inform Commodore Atrasin of this new development. After bowing profusely and saying what had happened, Captain Mallou began to transmit new orders which filtered down the bridge crew. “Get to battle stations all of you and prep the ship for jump, we are tracking down those people who are sending the transmissions.” Kazack keyed in the coordinates for jump and held his breath.


The system they were in was eerily quiet; the transmissions had come from this system, yet there was nothing on the scanners, “Are you sure this is where they came from?” Captain Mallou asked Kazack quietly. “Yes ma’am, the transmission originated from this spot, but we are not picking up anything on the scanners.”  Kazack suddenly had a thought, “Maybe they scrambled our scanners too” He said. Captain Mallou considered him for a moment then decided. “Unlikely “she said, “Our sensors codes are some of the best in the galaxy, only a very skilled slicer could break them.”

“That’s what we thought about our communications too” Kazack replied, “But obviously someone has broken them” Captain Mallou considered him again, realising he had raised a critical point. She came to a snap decision, which Kazack decided must be her trademark. “Take the ship further in and we’ll have a look around” She ordered. “Yes ma’am!” Kazack replied. The Iron Duke was going in.


(OOC: 524 words, moved the story along a bit and hopefully thickened up the plot. Great Writing Guys!!)

Holo Chamber, Bridge Section, Daring, the Epsilon System

“[Agrrreed, Excellent job.  Captain Bacredi…what do you have forrr us?]” The naval commander in chief said as Bacredi grabbed his datapad, checking on the status of the Doashim.

“Hello, everyone,” Bacredi said, his datapad revealing to him that the Doashim was now in system. “I have just been informed that the men suspected of sabotaging the naval high command have been found and are being brought into the Epsilon System. Unfortunately, a convoy in route from Thyferra has dropped out of hyperspace and into the system I am currently in due to engine problems. We are moving to assist the convoy as we speak, and it should be up and running if all goes well shortly.”

“Keep us updated on the Pioneer, Bacredi,” Atrasin said, seemingly jumping out of his trance.

“I shall, I’m afraid I have to cut my part in this meeting short, the Seventh Fleet requires attention. Thank you, gentlemen,” Bacredi pressed a red button in front of him, ending his holo link. Bacredi’s XO, Chase Flint, was standing right behind him, in full Imperial drag.

“Sir, the Doashim is running along side us, along with the Devonshire.” Flint and Bacredi walked out of the holo chamber and onto the bridge. Bacredi still couldn’t get used to the view from the bridge of a star destroyer. It was simply mesmerizing.

“Got it, any transmissions from the Pioneer?”

“Yeah, the captain has requested that we send a team of technicians over to assess the situation and see if it can be repaired. Do you honour this request?”

“Yes, I do, I would like you to lead it, take Herentus over there,” Chief Warrant Officer Herentus looked over from his technical station at the mention of his name.

“No problem, Herentus, you’re with me,” Flint bellowed over at the technical officer, and then walked over to his station in the far part of the bridge and grabbed his pistol holster, attaching it to his belt. Herentus got up out of his chair and logged off, they were both out of the bridge in a minute.

“Communications officer, send a message to the Atlas and the Adriatic. Tell them to get over here, we want to show off a little bit.” Bacredi then sat down in his captain’s chair, feeling all the more powerful.

Ligea, the Epsilon System

The Lambda-class shuttle flowed through space with 12 TIE Interceptors around it. Chase Flint and Landon Herentus both sat behind the two pilots, with a VENI agent and a technical team in the passenger bay.

“Well that’s weird,” the co-pilot of the Ligea said, checking the radar.

“What’s that?” asked Flint and the other co-pilot in unison.

“Radar anomalies on the other side of Nottersham, oh wow, let me call in on this one,” the co-pilot typed something in on the computer, and then connected with the Daring. “Daring, this is the Ligea, do y’all read these radar blips around Nottersham?”

“We do. Keep course, we’ll check it out.” The blips on the radar began to move rapidly towards the Pioneer.

“What the hell is going on now, dammit,” the co-pilot pressed down on the accelerator, wanting to get to the Pioneer. Smaller blips began to appear around the bigger blips, and they were all identified as enemies at that very moment. “Shit.”

Bridge, Daring, the Epsilon System

“Release our squadrons!” Bacredi bellowed as he leapt from his captain’s chair. “What are the targets?”

“Twelve capital ships sir, identifying now…three Dauntless-class, four assault frigates, four CR-90s, and an unidentified cruiser. The system counts 84 starfighters.”

“Move to engage.”

Atrasin sat at his desk, looking over the latest intelligence reports from Bacredi's division. It had been several dozen hours since the biological attack on the high command, and so far nothing. The fleet was scattered, but within easy reach of each other, but no one had reported so much as a raid. He didn't like it.

"Commodore? There's a shuttle on approach. It looks pretty beat up but it's using up to date passcodes. LIMEY level passcodes."

LIMEY level? What would someone like that be doing out here?

Something seemed off about all this, but so far there'd been no evidence of betrayal-yet, just assassination. And besides, whoever it was might no something.

"How many people aboard the shuttle?"

"Just the one sir," the watch officer reported.

"Let them dock, and then escort whoever it is to my quarters. ARMED escort, Mallou,” Atrasin said. No use in taking chances.

Minutes past, Atrasin decided to get back on with his work whilst he waited for the mystery guest to arrive. He'd almost forgotten about them when a beep on his console indicated that they had arrived.

"Let him in," he said into the intercom. "You guys can wait outside until I call you."

Atrasin sat up straight as the door opened and a man walked in. He looked young, much younger than Atrasin and yet he seemed to have the weight of a man twice his age on his shoulders.

Beneath the shawl and the dark shades, Atrasin could make out scares that lined his face. There was something vaguely familiar about him...

The man looked around and whistled before the Commodore could say anything.

"My my Geordi, you've certainly done well for yourself, haven't you?"

Atrasin froze. He knew that voice. It had been several years, but he'd never forget that voice. He had to force himself to remain calm and not instantly reach for his gun.

Maybe I can call the guards...

The man looked at him and chuckled.

"Don't get your pants in bunch, I come in peace. I hear you have a spot of trouble on your hands."

Atrasin frowned, the attack may be common knowledge right now, but something was still off here. He'd used LIMEY level passcodes to gain entry to this ship.

"Why are you here?"

He was still wearing the shawl, but Geordi just knew that infuriating grin of his was there as he spoke.

"Responding to your plea for help, what else?"

Plea for help...? Atrasin was momentarily confused. The only people he had specifically requested aid from were his Atoran functionaries and the...

"You're here from... them? You told me you'd quit the Vast Empire altogether?"

The man shrugged as he took off his shades and the shawl. As Atrasin suspected, there were scars on his face. His hair had changed as well, it looked more disheveled and not to mention dirty. He'd gained some weight, put on some muscle, and still wore that pistol and knife combo he preferred.

"Let's just say I'm here doing a favor for a friend. Regardless, as I said, I come in peace."

Atrasin relaxed slightly and say back in his chair, regarding the man guardedly. He gestured for him to take a seat.

"You look like crap," he said as the man approached.

"Yeah, I wonder who's fault that was."

"Some of this is new."

"So I've been busy. Still, I sleep better at night knowing that, somehow, it's all your fault."

"That was three years ago, get over it."

"I did, when we ran into each other in that bar on Typhus, remember?"

"I remember some crazy ass S.O.B trying to kill me. Were you drunk?"

"Possibly, there's a lot about that weekend I don't remember."

Atrasin watched as the haggard and battle weary man sat lazily down on the chair in front of his desk. It had been a while since the two had seen each other, and while there was still a lot of bad blood between then, he felt like he could trust him not to make a scene. Maybe. He put his pistol on his lap just in case.

"So, what have you been up to?" Atrasin asked.

1st Lieutenant Ibram Tyrol grinned at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know..."

Daishi Station was like many other refit stations across the VE.  Dark, battered, utilitarian: it wore the title ‘workplace’ like the Imperial Crown.  It was not a place one would think of when they thought of turning points in Galactic history.  Jaden had pondered that particular thought for several hours already.  The Dead Gun was nearly reloaded and the minor repairs and upgrades he’d put in for were nearly finished.  He was about to go out and do battle with a foe he still didn’t know, on a field that had not been chosen yet, and against forces that had yet to reveal themselves.

This kind of crap never happened when Shaz was around

He thought back to his old commander and friend.  The battles they’d fought and lived through.  The work they’d done to raise the VE and restore the greater glory of the Empire.  It all seemed for naught.  Now, the Navy was scattered and demoralized.  A Wookiee sat in the Command chair.  A Wookiee who’s first act as NCC was to make pilots captains of starships. 

We have lost our minds

Then there was the Executive Officer, he couldn’t bring himself to call it by the grandiose name they’d changed it to.  He was nothing more than a jumped-up engineer from a minor noble family on a minor planet in a tumble-down portion of the Corellian Run. 

Probably bribed his way to the top, or blackmailed someone

The rest of the ‘new’ Naval High Command was far from impressive.  There was the wisp of a lad running the Academy, and the pretentious man with more money than brains running Intelligence, and himself…the only real Navy man here.  He’d spent the better part of his life fighting and killing for the Vast Empire, and now he was forced to play second fiddle to a walking carpet and a puzzle-maker.

I won’t do it, I won’t

He walked over to the comm station in his temporary berth aboard Daishi Station and punched in a code he’d come across several months back.  A code he’d contemplated turning over to Intel, but decided to hold himself – just in case.  The comm connected to the relay station, then bounced to the second, third and fourth in a matter of seconds.  He rerouted it through several more layers until he thought he’d covered his tracks enough.  The image it connected with was that of a middle-aged man in a tan and light blue uniform.

“Who the blazes are you, and how did you get this link,” he sputtered.

Kharr stood arrow-straight, “I am Line Captain Jaden Khaar, Chief of Naval Warfare for the Vast Empire, and I have a proposal for you.”

The New Republic Naval officer eyed him suspiciously, “I am Commander Hatner Loy, and I’m listening.”

Several hours later…

“What is our ETA to the Epsilon System Mr. Harriss,” he toned impatiently.

Harriss double checked the chrono and reported, “We will arrive in approximately three minutes, sir.”

Khaar nodded to his XO.  He was a good officer and a friend, he just wouldn’t understand that what had to be done, HAD to be done.  He only hoped that Bacredi would listen to reason as well, if not, well…every war had its casualties.
The Dead Gun dropped out of hyperspace moments later.  Sensors quickly picked up the position of the Daring and the rest of the Seventh Fleet.  They also registered the craft of Loy’s New Republic Task Force as it also entered the system. 

“New Republic craft detected, bearing 122. 12 ships on intercept course with Daring and Seventh Fleet.  Battle stations, all hands, “barked Harriss.

“BELAY THAT.”

Harriss turned to his captain puzzled, “Sir?”

“I said, stand down.  Open a frequency to the Daring.”

The confused XO obeyed, and momentarily the image of Zhar Bacredi shimmered into focus on the Gun’s bridge, “Jaden what the hell is going on, why aren’t you moving to intercept them?”

“They are here on my request Bacredi, and you will stand down.”

“What?” sputtered the Intel chief, “You are delusional if you think I’m standing down in the face of a Rebel fleet?”

“As ranking member of the High Council and ranking member of the Navy present here I am taking command of the Seventh Fleet and I ORDER you to stand down.  It’s quite obvious that the Wookiee and that ass Atrasin have no idea what they are doing.  I’m taking command at this moment and will soon relieve them as well.  This is no time for short-time fools to be in control of a Navy I love so dear.  I cannot stand by and watch as their incompetence and duplicity cloud the vision of the VEHC and open us to attack.  These members of the New Republic are here to assist me.  They will take half of the bacta shipment that we have here and in return they will join us as we move to Abrae to take back our Navy.”

Blue stared numbly as Jaden continued to monologue, he subtley motioned for his comm officer to kill the audio.  Using Imperial battle code, he instructed them to record the entire message.  He also managed to get off a coded burst to the NHC.  The comm officer saw what was transpiring and deftly moved to not only follow her CO’s orders, but to record and loop his transmission.

“You are clear sir, he still thinks you’re listening.” She stated proudly

“Excellent work Badder, put yourself down for a commendation, “he quipped as he moved off the holo platform, “what’s the Dead Gun’s complement?”  Information on the Victory-II projected itself before him.  The two craft were equally matched, with the Gun owning a slight edge on heavy arms. 

Damn

“Ok, send this to the Fleet, Battle stations, all hands.  Kill the loop, Badder; I want to talk to this self-important fool myself.”

A chorus of ‘ayes’ followed by a still pontificating Jaden’s image, “…having been here longer than anyone else only I know what’s in the best interest of the Navy…”

“Shut your mouth, Khaar.  You are in violation of several major naval doctrines including Insubordination, Attempted usurpation of the Naval High Council and Mutiny.  I am here by placing you under arrest.  The Executive Officer is instructed to take you into custody and take command of the ship,” bellowed Blue.

Khaar was momentarily taken aback, and then sighed grimly, “Mr. Bacredi, you have chose wrongly, “as he motioned for the communication to be broken. 

“Mr. Harriss, patch me through to the Republic flagship if you please”

“Sir?”

“Patch me through,” the rising anger in his voice evident.

“Aye, sir,” numbly he complied, his head spinning as to what is and could happen.  An image of the New Republic commander shimmered to life.

“Captain Khaar, why have your other ships not powered down their shields and weapons,” caution dripped off every word.

“It would seem Commander that Captain Bacredi has decided to die today, and to kill his fleet as well.  I will send you the schematics of the ships and their weak spots.  Feel free to fire at will. Dead Gun out.”

Harriss stared at the man he thought he once knew.  They’d fought together for nearly a decade and he’d always been honorable, now…he was siding with Rebels against fellow Imperials.

“HARRISS, damnit man, listen to me….send the data to the Republic flag now.”

Harriss faltered, and then spoke, “No sir.”

Jaden’s eyes narrowed to slit, “What?”

Steeling himself, “No sir, I concur with Captain Bacredi, you are under arrest for insubordination and I hereby take command of the Dead Gun.”

“Fool, just like Atrasin and the Wookiee.”

From his left Harriss momentarily caught the flash of a fist as it crashed into his skull.  Crumpling to the floor he looked up at the newest Bridge Officer, a Mr. Phennir, standing over him.  Never being known as a stupid man in his fifteen years in the Imperial service Harris lithely flicked his arm, producing the tiny holdout blaster he kept for just such unfathomable situations.  Phennir moved to disarm him, but Harriss already had the drop.  The Petty Officer dropped with a thud.

Khaar flinched in shock, “What are you doing?”

The commander sized him up, pistol trained on his, now former, commander, “I’m doing my duty, sir, and removing a criminal from MY bridge,” pointing to two dumbstruck ensigns, “You two, secure him and take him to the brig.”

The young officers scrambled to seize Jaden who struggled for a moment, then sagged.  They moved toward the bridge door as Security burst through.  They took the mumbling officer away from the young officers.  Motioning to the inert body of Phennir on the deck Harriss said, “Take him too, he assaulted a superior officer. Why he did that, i know not, nor care.  Charge him with dereliction until we can interrogate him.”

Pulling himself up to his full two meters Commander Harriss bellowed, “HARD ABOUT, I want those Bowlheads in my sights in thirty seconds!”

The bridge snap focused and the Dead Gun heeled about, her nose on the incoming New Republic flagship.

“Open a channel to the Daring.  Daring this is Dead Gun, this is Commander R.T. Harriss I have relieved Captain Khaar of his duties and assumed command of the ship.  I yield to you as senior officer on the field, what are your orders?”

Bacredi smiled feral-like and nodded, “Let’s see if this Zoo Keeper wants to dance.”

On the bridge of the Endor’s Victory Commander Hatner Loy observed the previously identified friendly Star Destroyer turning on him, “All hands to battle stations, I think we’ve just lost a friend.”

OOC:

Jaden and Casca are now in the Brig. NPC Harriss is in command of the Dead Gun.  Bacredi has command of the fleet plus Dead Gun.

In hyperspace travel, it becomes necessary to assure that the structural integrity is intact before making a jump. Failure to do such could involve anything from decompression of a corridor, to the ship being torn in two.  For this reason, and for a few others, some vessels have made it their policy to seal bulkhead doors prior to making a jump. This was great for the safety of a vessel, but horrible for productivity. First Lieutenant C-4RX now had to wait until the jump was made to be able to access the bridge, there was no other option.

A klaxon sounded in one single tone. [[Hyperspace jump, in two minutes.]] The voice alerted.

C-4 looked over at the two officers he brought with him from the Reaper; Chief Warrant Officers Saul Aquila and Faith Craig. Aquila he should know, everything he read and was told about the past years said that he saved Saul’s life on Jalor. A massive shock wave blast from a nuclear device within Jalor city destroyed C-4’s prior physical body, there was nothing left. In addition, the memories and calculations of his brain had yet to be downloaded; everything he knew that had not been saved was lost. A memory crisis at its simplest level, C-4 was left to trust what others and his instinct told him about Aquila; that he was a good person, and a hell of a fighter. Faith Craig though, C-4RX did not know at all. She had served on the Reaper for the past two year and a half as the tactical officer, that’s all that he knew. He wanted two good people to follow him to the Chrome Fox; it can never hurt to have people on your side from the moment you arrive, even if it is only two non-commissioned officers.

[[Jump in 10… 9… 8…]]

“Grab a hold for the jump.” C-4 said to the two NCOs as the jump count went down.

[[… 2… 1… Jump.]] The voice said as the Chrome Fox entered hyperspace.

Hyperspace was an amazing thing, even in this day and age. The idea of transporting massive star cruisers across the galaxy at speed faster than light was just a remarkable concept. It was a near flawless system, perfected after hundreds of years of research and testing. Though the average person did not notice this, C-4 could see this in Chief Warrant Officer Craig; she was a born spacer, hyperspace was nothing to her.

With the jump begun, the bulkhead doors were unsealed, the doors were kept closed while not in use for easy sealing, but one could travel through them. With that, C-4 and the two NCOs boarded the lift to head towards the command bridge of the Imperial-II class frigate. The lift was fast and also cramped. This ship was just as big in length of an Imperial-II class Star Destroyer, but it was smaller in most other places. The ship would do nicely as the Flagship of Task Force Resh; C-4 wondered how he would do though as the Task Force Commander. These were different days; no longer was he a pilot in a fighter squadron, he was playing with big toys now. Within less than a minute, the lift had arrived.

The bridge of the Chrome Fox was massive compared to the bridge of the Reaper; this was bringing him back to his old days as the Naval Training Officer standing on the bridge of Platform Saratoga. Though, this bridge was twice as busy as Saratoga; the difference between a Naval platform and a frigate traveling through hyperspace. C-4RX stepped out of the lift, followed by his NCOs.

“Captain on the bridge!” A bridge officer said, after which any officer that was not doing a critical job turned and rendered a salute.

Respect; it is a good thing to have from day one, C-4RX thought to himself.

“At ease.” He said, as he did before in a cold voice. C-4 loved to have the crew scared of him on day one; it was time to act completely robotic. Stomping as he walked, C-4 made his way to the Executive Officer.

“Sir; Second Lieutenant McCord at your service.” The XO said while saluting.

C-4RX returned salute, “Lieutenant, what is our ETA?” he then asked.

“We will arrive in the Epsilon system within the hour. The ship is at condition one, and the crew is ready for battle. “ McCord replied.

“Excellent, then I will take my two NCOs to their posts, and then I will return.” He said, preparing to leave.

“Sir, before you do there is one thing. There was another encrypted communication; this time from the Seventh Fleet.” McCord said as he handed C-4RX a datapad. He looked at its message;

>: Message Begins :
> From: Seventh Fleet Command
> To: Second Fleet
>
> I am taking command of the fleet.
> - CAPT Bacredi
>: Message Ends :

C-4RX was confused, but at this time there was no way to raise the seventh fleet during the hyperspace travel, this message was received prior to making the jump. There was something going on in Epsilon, and the Chrome Fox needed to get there immediately to find out.

…

Coming out of Hyperspace in an unknown situation is always dangerous, though that was exactly what the Chrome Fox was doing. The crew lived on the edge, and wanted more and more action. In the distance they could see the vessels assembled, the area was getting heated.

“Communications; raise Seventh Fleet Command, Lets find out what is going on.” He order, as the crew got moving. “Aquila, Craig; sit tight. This place is about to get rocky.”

OOC:

949 Words. ICF-II Chrome Fox is in System. CR90 Reaper is out of area currently.

“You have your orders, Crewman Trykon.”  The Petty Officer handed Wyl his new duty assignment and snapped off a dismissive salute, his eyes already scanning through the contents of another of the datapads piled on his desk.

Wyl swallowed in a dry throat, gazing down at the pad in his hand with a mixture of pride, doubt, and dread.  “Sir,” he began, but the PO’s annoyed glare stopped him mid-sentence.

The eyes softened a bit when they saw the new Crewman’s obvious consternation.  “You have a question, Crewman?”

Trykon’s habitual frown deepened.  “I’m not sure I understand what’s going on, sir,” he said carefully.

The PO’s turn to frown.  “You’re transferring to the Corvette Hammer, under Lieutenant Firekeeper,” he said in an exaggeratedly patient tone.

“Yessir,” Trykon nodded, “I can see that.  But,” he shrugged almost imperceptibly, “shouldn’t I be rotating out to one of the active TIE squadrons for further training?”

“You requested capital ship duty.”

“And I’m grateful for this opportunity, sir, but—”  Wyl hesitated.

“Spit it out, Crewman.”  The patient tone was gone.  “I’ve got work here.”

Trykon nodded again, looking miserable.  “It’s just that I graduated from flight school yesterday, sir.  I couldn’t ask for a better assignment, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that the VE Navy no doubt has other, more experienced pilots who could serve as the Hammer’s helmsman.”

“Other, more experienced pilots,” the Petty Officer echoed, watching the Crewman’s confusion increase.  Suddenly, understanding dawned.  “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

He exhaled.  “Yesterday, during your graduation here at the Academy, the senior fleet officers sat down on Capp Station to share the ceremonial meal which traditionally closes the Annual Naval Review.”  Trykon nodded, and the PO continued: “Their food was poisoned.  Something called Synox.  Most of the capital ship Captains are dead or dying, and even Admiral Denethor will be out of action for the foreseeable future, though they think he’ll pull through.  You really didn’t know?”

Trykon’s pale face was ashen.  “No sir.  The Academy went on security lockdown after graduation.  Of course I wondered what was going on, but my clearance wasn't high enough to ask the computer about it, and nobody told me.”

“I know your classmates knew what was going on, or at least most of them did by this morning,” the PO prompted.

“Probably,” Wyl said distractedly.  “I haven’t really made many friends here.  Yet,” he added.  He shook his head, as if to focus his thoughts.  “So then, the more experienced fighter pilots are moving into command posts, and with my expertise with capital ships, that leaves me at the Hammer’s helm.”

The Petty Officer regarded the older Crewman.  Trykon’s test scores were impressive, he was a natural flyer, and there was a lot of life experience peering out of his grey-green eyes.  But for all that, he hadn’t made a single friend in his time at the Academy?  “That’s the idea, Crewman,” was all he could think to say.

“Very well, sir, I’ll report to the Hammer right away.”  Trykon saluted.  “I’ve appreciated serving under your command, sir.  Good luck.”  He spun on his heel and strode out of the office.

The PO shook his head.  “Good luck to you, too,” he said to the empty doorway.

And with a sigh, he picked the new duty roster up, and got back to work.

OOC:

561 words.  Short-ish, but I needed some questions answered before I got too far into the narrative.  Also, removed all reference to a specific character, who due to continuity issues needs to not be present for this interaction.

Stormz' office was dark, cold, and felt all but lifeless. The steel walls offered little comfort; the lights were far too dim to work. The newly minted Naval Commander in Chief was eager to get some of his personal effects moved into the room, not to mention more lighting. He wondered how Denethor had been able to do even the most simple of tasks in as bleak a space.

Pushing the thought out of his head, Ph'rranix sat down at the desk. It too was empty.  Everything had been moved out after Denethor's retirement.  Just to the left of the Admiral was a port. Silently, Stormz gazed out of it for what seemed an eternity. The Wookiee longed to be back at his home planet, Kashyyyk, where there was no politics, no plague, just the never-ending trees.  One thing the Atrus and Kashyyyk did share, however, was the lack of his family.

The only thing he once held dear to him had been taken away through deception and manipulation. For this, he held every Reshie that'd ever put a rebel uniform on responsible. Slowly but surely, he would make them pay; each and every single one of them.

With that thought fresh in his mind, the towering Wookiee unclipped his modified comlink, and raised it near his lips and angrily growled, “[Commanderr, prreparre the ship forr a deparrturre. We have business to attend to.]”

A quick, "Yes, Admiral," came across the comlink from the other end. Returning the small communication unit to its place on his' belt, the oversized officer raised himself slowly out of his undersized chair and proceeded toward the Super Star Destroyer's bridge.

The Naval Commander in Chief made periodical stops en route to check up on the ship’s status.  Being a Wookiee meant keeping things in perfect working order, no matter the task.
*****
As the Admiral walked in, paws loosely held behind his back, he noticed the bridge was bustling with its usual activity. Crewmembers moved around, as best they could, to keep quiet and not disturb the others from their work, while at the simultaneously continuing to be productive. Directly ahead, glaring out the window was the Bridge officer and Ship's Executive Officer, First Lieutenant Tinker. The Wook's powerful steps alerted the pair of his arrival and they swiftly spun around on their left heel with a stiff salute. A small wave was all the Admiral responded with, allowing the officers to resume their conversation and relieve them of the uncomfortable position they were in.

"The ship is ready for departure whenever you give the signal, sir," rasped his Executive Officer.

“[You did well, Tink. Howeverr, I want my shuttle rreadied. The Atrus will be staying here,]” Rumbled the wookiee, low enough that only the three could hear,” [I will be deparrting in oh-one-hundrred hourrs for the Starr Destrroyerr Devestator. Frrom therre, I'll be making my way towarrd Commodorre Atrrasin in the Atorr system and aiding him in wiping up the rrebel prresence. Tinkerr, you arre in charrge. I don't want anyone to know I've left the ship, underrstand?]”

"Aye, sir. I can keep this place tidy," the Lieutenant confirmed, almost unable to wait to wander into the liquor stash she'd earlier found.

“[If you have any prroblems, make contact with me immediately and we'll rrendevous.]”

"Yes, Admiral.” she curtly replied.

The Wookiee quickly saluted, received the same, and turned heel.  The crewmen continued on with their work, seemingly unaware of his presence.  As quietly as he had entered, he left.  The bridge continued to hum as if he had never been there.  It wasn't as if the Naval Commander was so naive, however, with the recent attacks not much choice remained.



An alarm rang inside Stormz makeshift room, waking him from his slumber. He'd not slept well for numerous reasons. The most obvious was reason was the bed he was given. No one would have slept well either if they'd been placed on a bed almost half a meter shorter then they were. He also felt some anguish for leaving the Vast Empire's sole Super Star Destroyer in the possession of a girl who liked to party a little too much.

[Kadann's going to have my ass forr that,] Ph'rranix told himself, silently. Raising up slowly and streching, the gigantic sentient recieved a message on his comlink. It was a request from the ship's usual captain to meet him in the meeting chambers. A quick, affirmative reply was all the Wookiee sent before he dressed in his usual black uniform. He hated wearing the wretched thing, but knew it was required of him, since he was an officer of the Navy. Not just that, he was the head of the Navy. The Admiral continuously had to remind himself of that. The 'prestige' hadn't sunk in. By this point, he hoped it never would.

Entering the final cooridor before the meeting chamber, Stormz noticed a pair of armed troopers flanking each side of the door.

[What's the deal, trrooperrs?] Growled the Naval Commander.

"Commander Ward requested we stand guard and make sure only you and he be allowed in, Admiral," replied the stormtrooper in his semi-mechanical voice. Stormz shook his big, furry head in approval, although still weary of what could turn into a situation, given recent events.

Cautiously, the Admiral walked toward the door. The air hissed from decompression as the huge doors slid apart, revealing the commander sitting, not at his usual end of the table, but instead in the seat directly left of it.

"Ah, Admiral Krazanr, it's nice to see you, sir," the human began, quickly rising in respect to the Wookiee. Stormz stopped him from standing before he was fully upright, wanting to get on with whatever the Commander had in mind.

[Likewise, Commanderr. Why have you called this meeting, we have a lot to do beforre we rreach the Atorr system.]

"I have urgent news from the Victory-class Destroyer Dead Gun," rushed Commander Ward, almost stumbling over his own words to get them out. As quickly as he sputter out his last sentence, he handed Stormz a datapad, shaking slightly as he did so. The Wookiee's eyes filled with rage as he read the news.

[How long have you known about this, Commanderr?] Stormz snarled as he turned to glare into the Commander's face.

"I-I just found out about it, Admiral. I ca-called the m-m-meeting as soon as the news came over the communications network." Fear was struck into the ship captain and he began to sink slowly to his knees. Ph'rranix was the first Wookiee that Jaron had ever met, and the largest one just the same.

[I want contact opened with the Dead Gun, Daring, and Iron Duke in here immediately. Do you understand?] Stormz barked with a ferocious tone.

"Aye, Admiral," the Commander, still stricken with fear, but knowing his duties came first, rose up straight once more and scurried toward the Devestator's bridge. As he waited in silence, the Admiral attempted to gain his composure.

Two hours after the repairs and refits were completed, Drac walked onto the bridge of the Cerulean after completing an inspection tour of the work and sending the Dockmaster off with his thanks. He strode over to his chair and sat down, then brought up the built-in holoscreen and began to work on supply and requisition forms. Around him the various bridge officers ran diagnostics on their own consoles and systems, then progressed to simulations to ensure everything would work as designed.

About ten minutes later a tone sounded, informing the Mon Calamari of an incoming message. He touched the icon that appeared and sat back to read the communication:

MESSAGE BEGINS/
TO: WO1 Mihawk, Captain of the LCR [i]Cerulean
FROM: 1LT Frewn, Vast Imperial Personnel Command
RE: Transfer of Crewmembers

Warrant Officer, due to the refits performed upon your ship recently, it is necessary to change the makeup of your crew. Below are two lists. The first is a list of current crewmen aboard your vessel who are being re-assigned. The second is a list of new crewman being assigned to the ship. You can expect these new crewmen to arrive within three hours of the completion of your refits. Please send the crewmen being reassigned back to my office in the same transport.

Re-assigned:
Senior Crewman Farner Milm – Chief Medical Officer
Crewman Trainee Rand Praleos – Medical Officer
Crewman Trainee Serrian Koth – Communications Mate

Newly Assigned:
Crewman Trainee Aldron Hetrad - Gunner’s Mate
Crewman Trainee Obena Grush - Gunner’s Mate
Crewman Trainee Vernan Y’lesh - Communications Mate

/MESSAGE ENDS[/i]

Hmm…why in the galaxy are they trading out Communications Mates? He shrugged, Oh well. The day I come to understand Naval bureaucracy is the day I despair for my sanity. For that matter, I’m amazed this happened so quickly. That’s quite unusual. So, rather than waste time wondering about it, he called the crewmen in question to the bridge. They were gathered there within two minutes, curious looks on their faces. He looked them back over, two humans and a zabrak who he didn’t know and probably never would. He gave a mental shrug, It’s no different than anything that went on in Nazgul or Tuk’ata or ‘Shrike. Out loud, he said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news, gentlemen. Personnel Command has seen fit to reassign you to other duties. A transport should be arriving within a half hour or so to collect you and your belongings, so please be ready to go by then. I wish you the best of luck, wherever you are assigned. Dismissed.”

The two humans simply saluted and headed for their quarters, but the zabrak, Serrian Koth, stayed behind. He spoke, “Permission to speak, sir?”

“Granted, Crewman.”

“Why am I being transferred, sir? I can understand the meddies, since we had too many and need more gunners with the new weapons, but why me?”

Turning his head so he could look straight at the Crewman with his left eye, Drac replied, “I have no idea, Crewman. It seems there are other plans for you. You’ll have to ask the Personnel Command people who meet you. Now, go. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.” The zabrak saluted, then turned and disappeared through the hatch.

-----

As expected, a personnel transport skimmer parked outside the egress tube a little over half a standard hour later and three figures climbed out. There were two humans, both male, and a male Gran. All wore the lack of insignia indicating a Crewman Trainee, causing Drac to stifle an inward groan. He met them outside and returned their salutes. The first human, rather short with dark hair and tanned skin, introduced himself first, “Crewman Trainee Vernan Y’lesh reporting for duty as Communications Mate, sir.”

The other human spoke up next, his blonde goatee shifting as he spoke and his blue eyes moving constantly, “Crewman Trainee Aldron Hetrad reporting, sir. I’m to be a Gunner’s Mate.”

Last, the gran spoke up, “Crewman Trainee Obena Grush reporting as a Gunner’s Mate, sir.”

“Welcome aboard the Cerulean, Crewmen. I am Warrant Officer Dracule Mihawk, Captain of the ship. Go ahead and make your way into the ship. My XO will meet you and give you further instructions.” They exchanged salutes again, then Drac turned and gave the departing Crewmen one last salute before following the newcomers down the tube. Had he stayed behind, he might have seen one of the departing sailors get approached by a man who climbed out of a nearby personal skimmer.

-----

As soon as the Mon Calamari stepped back onto the bridge an emergency message tone sounded. He sat quickly, bringing up the communication. Captain Khaar appeared on the holo and Drac saluted, “Captain. What can the Cerulean do for you, sir?”

“Are your refits complete?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ve received intelligence about a New Republic attack on one of our convoys that is about to happen in the Epsilon System. You’ve already been pre-cleared for emergency departure. Form up on my Dead Gun and follow us there.”

“It’s done, sir.”

The communication ended. Drac thought for a short moment, going over the ship mentally. Well, looks like no leisurely shakedown’ll be happening. Trial by fire it is. Then he hit another button on the console and activated the ship’s intercom, “All hands, this is the Captain. Get to your battle stations and prepare for immediate departure.”

He watched as his primary bridge crew surged onto the bridge a minute later, passing their second-shift counterparts on their way to their consoles. Five minutes later all stations reported ready. Drac looked at Petty Officer Groenvald, “Take us out, Mr. Groenvald. I want us formed up on the Dead Gun posthaste.  Once we’re on station get the jump coordinates from them and follow them out.

The Warden-class ship formed up on the much larger VSD without incident, along with some other escorts, and jumped into hyperspace moments after the flagship.

Drac spent the hour’s jump to Epsilon system finishing up some administrative tasks that needed done to keep everything running smoothly on the Cerulean. Having finished most of it in the first half hour, he found himself anticipating the final task more than he’d expected. He looked up the comlink directory for the crewmembers and selected the frequency he wanted, then activated it, “Crewman Trainee Weasse, please meet me on the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain. I’ll be there in a moment.”

True to her word, Kora Weasse stepped through the hatch a few moments later. Drac returned her salute, then smiled at the lighter skinned Mon Cal. Huh. I never noticed, but her skin is a nice off-pink shade…what am I thinking about? Back on task, Drac. You get paid to kill people, not to have borderline inappropriate thoughts about sailors under your command. He returned his attention to the bridge around him as she spoke, “Crewman Weasse reporting, sir. What can I do for you?”

He smiled again, then gestured her toward a nearby chair, “I have some news for you, as you might have guessed. With the departure of Crewmen Milm and Praleos, you are now the Chief Medical Officer aboard the Cerulean. Congratulations.”

She nodded, “I had thought as much. Thank you, sir.” She smiled slightly, then continued, “Does that mean I’m now on Primary watch?”

Shaking his head, the dark Mon Cal replied, “Actually, no. Since you’re the only Medical Officer aboard now, I’m giving you a flexible schedule. You’re on call 24/7, but may otherwise make your own schedule. I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to sleeping at odd hours.”

She nodded, “No problem, sir. Would you like me on standby considering we may be fighting soon?”

“Please.”

“Very well. I’ll get my gear together, just in case, then station myself here on the bridge. Permission to go?”

“Granted.”

-----

Twenty standard minutes later the Cerulean snapped back into normal space. The Dead Gun was already in-system and a VE-wide channel was broadcasting. Several different figures appeared on the holoscreen, visible and audible to the whole bridge:

Drac saw one of the figures, Lieutenant Bacredi, being to speak angrily, “Shut your mouth, Khaar.  You are in violation of several major naval doctrines including Insubordination, Attempted usurpation of the Naval High Council and Mutiny.  I am here by placing you under arrest.  The Executive Officer is instructed to take you into custody and take command of the ship.”

Captain Khaar seemed momentarily taken aback, and then sighed grimly, “Mr. Bacredi, you have chose wrongly.” Then the communication from the Dead Gun cut out.

Several of Drac’s bridge officers turned back to look at him, confusion evident on their faces. One spoke up, “Sir? Um…orders? What do we do?”

Drac’s thoughts raced as he tried to figure out what was going on. In the end he boiled everything down to several pertinent facts, First, there are New Republic ships here threatening our property. Second, something’s wrong on the Dead Gun, thought I’m not sure what. Third, there are other Vast Imperial ships here opposing the rebels. After a moment he spoke out loud, “Shields to full. Guns, power up. Navigation, give me a course to intercept some of the smaller ships in that Rebel taskforce. Dodge around the Dead Gun as necessary, but don’t fire on it. We’ll engage as soon as the Daring does so. We’re here to fight rebels, not our own people.”

“But, sir!”

“No,” Drac interrupted, “I will not fire on our own ship. Engage the New Republic forces when Lieutenant Bacredi’s force does so.”

Nothing happened for a minute or so, during which a new transmission popped up. Drac saluted when Lt. Bacredi’s face appeared. The Lieutenant was guarded as he spoke, “Warrant Officer Mihawk. May I assume by your salute that you do not support this farce of Captain Khaar’s?”

“Sir, I’ve got no idea what’s going on with the Dead Gun. The Cerulean is here to keep that convoy in Vast Imperial hands, and that’s all.”

“Good to hear, Drac.”

“We await your signal, Zhar.”

“Excellent.”

Suddenly the Dead Gun heeled about, her nose on the incoming New Republic flagship, then a new transmission started with a new officer transmitting, “Open a channel to the Daring.  Daring this is Dead Gun, this is Commander R.T. Harriss I have relieved Captain Khaar of his duties and assumed command of the ship.  I yield to you as senior officer on the field, what are your orders?”

Bacredi smiled feral-like and nodded, “Let’s see if this Zoo Keeper wants to dance.”

Drac pushed aside his inner confusion and turmoil, “Guns, do you have a target selected?”

“Yes, sir. The Pride of Undlion, a CR-90 Corvette.”

“Engage.”

OOC:

Words: 1782

Hopefully Slasher'll get here soon too. Bacredi & C4: you guys want to meet up on IRC sometime to map out the big-ship part of the battle?

Bridge, the Daring, the Epsilon System, the Eastern Territories

“Cerulean, I need you to go shield the Pioneer, we’ll cover you approach. My XO and technicians are—” Bacredi looked over to a screaming radar technician.

“Sir! Three enemy squadrons incoming, 24 Y-Wings and 12 X-Wings; it appears that they are going to do a strafing run!” The technician went back and began talking to the weapons technician.

“Cerulean, move out, comm. send a message to Aegis Squadron, have them pull back to defend the Daring.” Bacredi checked his datapad, which was going off, a message from the Doashim appeared, reminding him that it was still right next to the Daring. “Shit, guys, is there any way we can get the prisoners onto the Daring from the Doashim?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid they’d be sitting ducks if they tried to connect up to us.” The second mate of the Daring said.

“Sir, bombing run incoming!” The radar technician yelled, and Bacredi grabbed the intercom.

“Brace for impact!” Bacredi screamed into the com, alerting the entire ship of the incoming bombing run from the NR’s Y-Wings. Bacredi grabbed onto a pipe coming down on the wall, and other members of the bridge grabbed onto support railings made for that purpose. The ship shook violent for two seconds, and for another three it shook a tad. A Y-Wing flew across the bridge, showing the underbelly, and was shortly followed by two TIE fighters.

Bridge, the Devonshire, the Epsilon System, the Eastern Territories

Commander Liam Folk, the captain of the Devonshire, read through the transmissions that had just transpired between Line Captain Khaar and his direct superior, Captain Bacredi.

“Commander Folk?” a voice rang into Folk’s earpiece.

“This is him.” He responded.

“This is Lieutenant Pile of the Daring, I have Zhar Bacredi here for you,” the comm. switched to Zhar Bacredi, leaving Pile out of the conversation.

“Folk, this is Bacredi, we have to make this quick, release your squadrons immediately and form up on my portside. Our transmissions cannot reach the rest of the fleet, and our shuttle was sent out already, if you could, can you send out your shuttle to alert the fleet.”

It took ten minutes for the Devonshire to form up on the portside of the Daring, on the other side of the Daring was the Doashim. The Dead Gun was on the Devonshire’s portside, and on the Dead Gun’s portside was the Atlas. The Adriatic was minutes away, about to take a spot on the starboard side of the Doashim. A total of 324 starfighters bustled in front of the group of fighters, and the Cerulean began to escort the Pioneer back to the small force.

Both sides had moved to their respective sides to get ready for an engagement of this side, with the Cerulean and the Pioneer's caught in the middle, attempting to get out of the crossfires.

Slasher looks over at the chrono in the desk of his quarters, double checking the time, the ship had entered hyperspace a while ago in order to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet, however they were a bit behind the rest of the fleet due to a delay in getting the ship refits done. Now however the entire ship was ready for combat, and they had already run a couple of battle drills. He is considering running another drill when he hears a beeping and punches the button on his desk to accept the communication.

Slasher sits up in surprise when the face of Bacredi fills the screen, “Slash, we've got a problem, Jaden has betrayed us, and he set a trap, we're pretty evenly matched here, so we need the Onyx here as soon as possible, how long until you reach the system?”

Looking quickly at the computer console Slasher responds, “At current speed we are 5 minutes out, can't get there any faster, but we'll be ready for a fight as soon as we get there, if you'll excuse me I've got some preparations to make.”

“Dismissed Chief.”

“Thank you sir.” closing the channel Slasher quickly turns and makes his way onto the bridge, he moves quickly Acorn hears the door open and stands up from the command chair instantly when she sees his face.

“Captain's conn,” she says standing off to the left of his command chair as he settles in and begins to issue orders.

“Sound General Quarters Comm Officer, and battle stations, the fleet is under attack.”

“Aye sir.”

The alarms begin to sound and Crewman Zabmen's voice begins to sound throughout this ship.

“General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations this is not a drill, I repeat not a drill.”
Slasher waits the seconds seeming to stretch on like an eternity as the members of his crew run to their battle stations. Within a minute the bridge crew has switched out, Cevdis, Leekin, and Helin taking up their positions, and Cevdis begins to rattle off reports.

“Captain, Medical Bay reports ready for casualties.”

“Very well.”

At Operations Leekin is rerouting power, “Shields are up, missile launchers coming online, 40 seconds to missiles, laser turrets are online.”

“Captain, Engineering reports Engineers and Damage Control team ready.”

“Ninety seconds until arrival Captain.” reports Acorn from the Helm,

“Captain, Armory and Gunnery report ready, showing green on both turrets, missiles being armed and loaded, 15 seconds to all missiles armed, 30 seconds to missile launcher ready.”

Slasher turns to Crewman Dinat as he arrives on the bridge, quickly issuing a sidearm to each of them, and handing Slasher a long box,

“What is in that sir? I keep lugging it up here, but I have no idea what it actually is.” wonders Dinat as everyone on the bridge checks their blasters to ensure they are ready for combat.

Slasher flips open the box, showing inside a collection of various edged weapons, which now that they are actually heading for combat he pulls out and adds to the equipment he is wearing. “I have here, a FSK-7 Combat Knife, Ryyk Kerarthorr Blades, Sat'skar Sword, Stich Zu Bayonet, and a XV-7 Vibrobayonet.”

“Missiles ready to fire, shields at 100%”

“20 seconds to arrival Captain.”

Slasher nods to Dinat, “Better get back to your station, I don't know exactly what we're getting into.”

“Aye sir”

20 seconds later the Onyx drops out of hyperspace, Slasher hears proximity alarms go off as he sees the hull of a CR-90 right in front of them,

“Helm, get us out of here, Laser Turrets, fire at will, standby missiles.”

Normally if he had been in command of a larger ship with a greater magazine of missiles, Slasher would have ordered the launch of a couple missiles immediately, but with only 8 missiles at his disposal, he did not wish to fire even one of them against a target which they may not have an effect on.

The Onyx Turns to try and get away from the New Republic CR-90, but as they turn the CR-90 opens fire with a full broadside, although aimed at the Cerulean and Pioneer's, the fact that the Onyx had just come up into the line of fire meant that the other two ships were saved, but the  Onyx took a beating, all of a sudden the entire ship darkened for a moment, and then the lighting and consoles came back online, but the primary lights are slightly dimmer.

Slasher is surprised, but immediately begins issuing orders, “Helm, get us out of the line of fire, Engineering, damage report?”

OOC:

796 Words

One standard hour later

Bang…Bang…Bang

Rocket awoke to the noise and looked around to see what was making the sound and saw that someone was knocking on his door. He got up and opened the door and found that his XO was standing there.

“Sir there is a problem.”

“What is it Ms. Hellray?”

“Sir the facility is not responding to our codes, we have also not received a message from them.”

“They are probably at the highest alert that they have, let’s make way to the bridge.”

After Rocket got to the bridge he noticed that Senior Crewman Trykon was still on duty, he went and sat down in his chair and said “Comm open a channel to the facility,”

“Yes sir the comm is open.”

“Good now Asteroid 19 this is 2nd Lieutenant Rocketman requesting permission to dock”

“And why would we let Imperial Scum like you on board of this facility.”

“I see well by order of the Vast Empire I am placing you all under arrest for insubordination.”

Rocket closes the channel.

“Sir they are powering up weapons.”

“Okay put shields up however do not fire back we have to keep damage to the facility to as little as possible.”

“Mr. Trykon take us in, we are gonna have to cut our way in sound General Quarters.”

Sirens came on the ship and Rocket waited till all stations had reported in and then he got up and said, “Put me on a ship wide channel,…This is the Captain speaking we are about to go into a engagement this is not a drill prepare for battle.”

“Sir what are your orders?”

“My orders Ms. Hellray are for the marines to prepare for boarding procedures; also I want a complete scan of the area if there is a ship out there I want to know where it is.”

“Aye sir, the ship is ready for the engagement.”

Rocket looked at the front screen and saw that the ship had started to move towards the facility and says, “Get me a secure channel to the NHC.”

“Sir the channel is open.”

Rocket picked his comlink up and says, “This is 2nd Lieutenant Rocketman I have arrived at Asteroid 19, and have found that it is not in our control anymore I am moving in to recapture it as I say this, that is all I have to report at this time.”

“You can close that channel now how long will it take to get to the NHC.”

“It depends on how long it will take to bounce around since the asteroids make the signal hard to get though, but it will get to the destination sir.”

“Good now for the fun to begin Helms take us in.”

The Hammer continues its approach to the facility while being hit from multiple locations from turbo laser emplacements.

“Ms. Hellray have the platoon commander report to the briefing room also I want you to be there also Mr. Petty you have the con.”

Rocket exited the bridge and walked to the briefing room.

Wyl Trykon gripped the control column at the CR90 Hammer’s helm, his knuckles white after completing the grueling journey through the asteroids of the Vectra system’s belt.  After almost a standard hour of precise maneuvering, twisting the corvette around the spinning rocks, they’d finally arrived at their destination.

But while the Hammer’s shakedown cruise to the Asteroid 19 Training Facility had been challenging so far, it was about to become downright dangerous.

Now, on their final approach to the station, an eerie quiet was all that greeted them.  Long minutes went by, the Hammer moving ever closer, and still, the station was silent, responding neither to authorization codes nor to direct hails.

Eventually, the XO left to retrieve the Captain, and a minute later Firekeeper walked onto the bridge.  “Comm, open a channel to the Facility,” he said in an alert and reassuringly calm voice.

“Yes sir.  Channel open.”

“Asteroid 19, this is Second Lieutenant ‘Rocketman,’ aboard Hammer, requesting permission to dock.”

A low voice growled back, distorted by the comm connection but unmistakably defiant: “Permission denied.  Never again will Imperial Scum like you board this facility.”

“I see,” Captain Firekeeper said dryly.  He stood, and walked over to the Communications duty station.  “Well then, in the name of the Vast Empire, I am placing you all under arrest on charges of piracy, sedition, and treason.”  He flicked a switch on the panel in front of him, and the communications link was abruptly severed.

“Sir, they’re powering up their weapons grid.”

“Right.  Deflector shields to maximum.  Weaps, do not return fire.  We want to recapture the facility, not destroy it.”  The bridge crewers nodded their understanding.  “Mr. Trykon, take us in, if you please.  I’m afraid we may have to cut our way aboard.”

“Yes sir,” Trykon said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.  He and Drackon brought the Hammer’s acceleration up, and Brin fed a course plot to them designed to avoid most of the now-active point-defense laser turrets floating at irregular intervals all around the Training Facility.

“Sound General Quarters,” Firekeeper intoned.

Sirens wailed, and the crew scrambled to duty stations throughout the corvette.  When all departments had reported in, the Captain called for a ship-wide channel: “This is the Captain speaking.  We are about to engage the enemy.  This is not a drill.  Prepare for battle.  Repeat: this is not a drill.”

“Orders, sir?” the XO prompted.

“My orders, Ms. Hellray, are for the marines to prepare for a boarding operation.  And I want a complete scan of the area, Sensors.  These would-be thieves had to get to the facility somehow.  If there is a ship out there somewhere, I want to know where it is.”

“Aye sir.”

Captain Firekeeper sent an encrypted status report back through the belt of asteroids to Abrae, and ordered the marine platoon commander to the briefing room.  Just as the first blaster bolts lit up the forward shields, the CO and the XO left the bridge, to plan the ground assault necessary to retake the Training Facility.  For the time being, the Hammer was under the command of CPO Freedom Petty, and the ship was soon shrugging its way through a withering firestorm produced by five of the scattered laser batteries.

Despite the concerted efforts of Trykon, Drackon, and Brin to avoid the things, more and more of the anti-starfighter gun platforms got a bead on the not-quite-fast-enough little capital ship, and the Hammer’s shields were soon hard-pressed to keep up with the sheer volume of incoming fire.

“How we doin’, Defense?” Petty bit out through gritted teeth.

“Deflectors holding.  For now.  Heat sinks are almost at capacity though.”

Wyl frowned.  Once the heat dispersion systems were overwhelmed, the shields would come down in short order.  And then, the hundreds of blaster bolts out there would be slamming directly into the hull.  He suppressed a shudder.

Wyl guided the Hammer through the final leg of the gauntlet of fire, around a twin gun emplacement and behind a crescent-shaped shard of rock slowly orbiting the main facility. Then, they were clear, and Asteroid 19’s bulk suddenly filled the forward viewport.

“Sir, I have a new contact,” the Crewman at the Sensor station yelled.  “It’s weaving its way through the belt to our position!”

“ID, Crewman?”

“No active transponder, sir.  But it looks to be a frigate.  Lancer-class.  ETA... four minutes, twenty seconds.”

Petty cursed, somewhat colorfully.  “Alright.  Trykon, I want us sidled up to the main docking port in the next minute and a half.  We need to dump the troops and go.”

“Sir––” Brin started to say, her tone disbelieving and distraught.

“We’ll be coming back,” Petty snapped.  “But we have to draw that Lancer away, for now.  It won’t do us any good to retake the station if the frigate’s close enough to it when we do to simply blow it into space dust.”

Trykon nodded subtly to himself.  The Chief Petty Officer was right.  Without shields, the facility wouldn’t withstand much punishment.  But then again, with our own shields in the state they’re in, the Hammer won’t do much better, Wyl thought.  He caught Brin’s look in his peripheral vision.  Apparently she was thinking much the same thing.

“Captain, Petty here.  We can have a hard seal with 19’s main docking port in one minute, but there’s a hostile Lancer inbound, sir.”

Rocketman’s voice came back without any hesitation.  “Continue with combat docking.  The marines will simply have to deploy double quick.  I will not permit thievery in the Navy’s home system, Mr. Petty.”

“Aye sir.”

With mounting anxiety, Wyl rotated the Hammer along its axis, bringing the ship’s docking port in line with the station’s, and then he tapped the maneuvering thrusters.  With a palpable quiver, the docking maneuver was complete, and then a half-second later, the ship quaked as the boarding party blasted its way onto the enemy-held facility.

Wyl wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow with a shaky hand, and braced himself for the frantic order to break away from the station, and fly straight into the path of the approaching frigate.

It’s an opportunity, Wyl tried to convince himself.  An opportunity to distinguish myself.  He frowned.  One way or the other.

OOC:

1,042 words, but a higher percentage of those words are in the initial, recap/introduction section than I'd like...

The shuttle door finally opened and some fresh recycled air rushed inside. Not just the air though. Mechanical whirling, electronical beeping, electrical buzzing sounds and of course echoes of running footsteps as well as the occasional shouting. Hearing any of these was to be expected in almost any hangar or starport across the galaxy. Even so it was clear to at least one of the shuttle's passengers that this new destination was quite a bit busier than most he had thus far visited.

The shuttle's passengers got out one by one, some ignoring their surroundings and moving away whilst appearing quite sure of themselves. Those were the ones that likely had been here before and were probably returning from leave or similar. This did not apply to everyone though as it was made evident by the ones that instead chose to pause for a few moments and look around.

"Aren't you getting off?"

The voice belonged to one of the shuttle's pilots. The crewman was addressing the sole remaining individual that had yet to depart or for that matter even get out of his seat. Realizing he was the one being addressed, the petty officer took another drag of his almost finished cig and looked up:

"Yeah..."

It was a halfhearted reply, as if the blond fellow had a lot on his mind, couldn't care less about anything or was perhaps under the influence of god only knows what narcotics. In this particular case it was the first of the mentioned possibilities.

The petty officer got up slowly and made for the exit, steadily adjusting his eyes to the cold, impersonal light coming from the busy hangar of the star destroyer he just boarded. Like those before him, he too paused for a few moments and looked around for a bit. The ship's design wasn't much different than the Dead Gun's yet even so it seemed larger somehow. After taking one final drag the new arrival rudely threw the cigarette butt in the direction of a cleaning droid.

The smoke had annoyed some of the other shuttle passengers but none of them made any verbal complains however. How could they when they all came from the same place... the Cappadocious station on Abrae, a location that only a short while ago had been the target of a brilliant terrorist attack. Granted it was cowardly and despicable but at the same time however it managed to cripple the Vast Empire' Navy hierarchy all the while maintaining the attacker's identity a secret. Rather familiar with cheap and dirty tactics himself, the petty officer couldn't help but be impressed by this attack. For one thing it had to be properly planned - individuals placed in key positions or otherwise just bought, blackmailed and/or intimidated to lend a helping hand, not to mention the poison itself wasn't apparently something just anyone could get his hands on either.

The thing that made this attack great however was the fact that it was meant to act in two stages. The first and obvious one was to eliminate key members of the Navy and thus disrupt the whole organization. The second part however would not occur right away and it wouldn't be as readily evident either. Oh no, the second part of this attack would be a psychological one. As news of what had occurred on Cappadocious would spread confusion and panic would begin to settle in. This is where the method of the attack would prove to have been truly optimal for it would show people that the enemy they fight is in fact a ghost. A ghost that just as the poison lacked smell and taste, it too lacked a name and a face. A ghost capable of attacking anyone, anywhere and at any time... What better way to envision one's worst enemy than to leave so much of him left unknown?

Things are bound to heat up within the next few days. The VEI will likely need at least that long to gain some leads and this invisible enemy will likely make its next move before then. Question is - what move will that be?

If he had been part of the masterminds behind this attack then he would use the newly created power vacuum to infiltrate more agents into the Navy whilst promoting those already in place. It made the most sense after all. Hope for a swift and complete victory but at the same time prepare for a war that might drag on. New recruits would be opened with open arms and who knows how many of them will carry concealed communication devices to give away their positions or plans, thus helping those behind the curtain put together many pieces of a dispersed puzzle. More importantly, who knows whether any of the newly promoted officers were in fact loyal to the Vast Empire or to the other side? If there ever was a time to infiltrate enemy agents deeper into the organization then this was surely it.

"Petty Officer Seth Qorbin. My orders are to replace the late commander of the 82nd Squadron."

Like everyone before him Seth too had to identify himself and state the nature of his business on the Iron Duke. Whilst the officer in charge ran his info through a secured terminal Seth couldn't help but notice how on edge the marines guarding the entryway were, their arms clearly tensing whilst gripping their standard E-11s.

High alert as was to be expected...

A short beep was heard from the secured terminal and the officer behind it gave an approving nod, followed by a standard welcome. Seth thanked him and headed out, moving towards the front of the ship. All star destroyers were built the same way after all so the bridge was bound to be in the same place more or less. What could maybe differ was the exact level and maybe number of corridors one would need to take either left or right to reach it. Seth for instance managed to reach it just fine after asking for directions just once.

"Who's the XO?"

The marine tasked with the bridge's security looked over at the petty officer and motioned towards a female officer. Seth thanked him and headed towards the woman. On his way there he couldn't help but notice a rather familiar face struggling with a console.

Guess i wasn't the only one pulled out of Rhegent's...

Greeting his former wingmate would have to wait though. Right now the petty officer needed to report in for duty, get his new orders, find and brief his new squadron of the changes and last but not least find himself a place to crash as well. It wasn't that he was looking forward to sleep or simply rest, it was just that carrying a duffel bag around everywhere would eventually tire him out.

Dropping that very same duffel bag to the ground Seth saluted as he stood before Mallou:

"Petty Officer Seth Qorbin reporting in for duty. As per the orders received on Cappadocious Station i am to replace the late Chief Warrant Officer Calfan and thus take command of the 82nd Squadron."

The Executive Officer remained silent for a few moments whilst she looked Seth over as if attempting to analyze him and come up with some answers based on first appearances alone.

"Welcome aboard the Duke, Petty Officer. Chief Calfan was a good officer, a good pilot and a good man. He shall be missed. The Nightshrike Squadron is particularly affected by this tragedy as i have earlier learned that Warrant Officer Draav, Chief Calfan's XO, has passed away a little less than a hour ago, the poison finally getting the better of him. This i fear leaves one of our better squadrons in quite a dire state. It is my hope Petty Officer that you manage to keep things from falling apart. It is imperative for us to lose no more than we already have."

This was bad. Seth knew he had to replace a squadron commander but he had hoped the current XO would help him along with this task. To learn that the XO had also been attending that cursed meeting - now this was bad news indeed. It was still a huge opportunity and whether he would manage to rise above the expectations or not, he at least intended to give it his all. It wasn't ambition alone that drove him either. That may have had a role too, but what really kept the blond going was his stubbornness. He refused to think that he would at this rate end up part of the losing team without doing some damage of his own in retaliation. Besides, a smart and treacherous enemy would surely prove to be a worthy challenger...

"Yes ma'am. I shall try my hardest not to betray the trust placed in me."

Mallou nodded and Seth could almost swear her expression ever so slightly brightened up if only just for a few brief moments.

"Good to hear Petty Officer, good to hear. I'm sure you're anxious to meet your new squadron so i shall not keep you any longer. Brief them on the current situation and keep them battle ready. There's no telling if and when you'll be ordered to launch but you and your squadron are to be prepared at all times."

With that the ship's XO turned to another low ranking officer and asked him to prepare a meeting for the Nightshrike squadron. She then asked the same individual to escort Seth there. She gave the petty officer a final nod and then returned to whatever business she had going. Seth in turn saluted once more, grabbed his bag and followed the younger officer. The two of them were silent for quite a while before Seth finally decided to speak:

"You wouldn't happen to know where i can drop this off, would you?"

He motioned for his duffel bag so that the other fellow would understand what he was talking about.

"I believe you'll be taking over the Nightshrike's former commander's room sir. I do not believe anyone has had time to clear it of his personal effects though. I'll see to it while you attend the meeting sir. With any luck it'll be done by the time you're finished."

"Thank you, much appreciated."

The two men finally stopped in front of a door and the escorting officer pointed to it. He then saluted and strode off, hopefully to prep a room for the new squadron commander. At least that's what Seth wanted to believe anyway. He gave a light sigh and passed through the door. He made his way to the front center of the briefing room all the while glancing around to see the faces of those he was expected to serve with from now on. When he reached his destination he again dropped the duffel bag he was carrying on the ground and turned to face the other pilots. He could tell not everyone was there yet. At least not unless the squadron was smaller than standard ones. He decided to wait and after a few minutes the door opened once more and a group of three other pilots stepped in. Their chatter instantly came to a stop upon noticing the new guy standing before them.

"Are all members of the Nightshrike Squadron currently aboard present here at this time?"

The pilots quickly glanced around, not so much to check whether they were all there but more to see each other's expressions in the process. Finally a female pilot stepped forward:

"Yes sir. All members of the 82nd Imperial Fighter Squadron, codenamed Nightshrike, stationed on board the Iron Duke are present and accounted for."

"Thank you."

Seth paused a few more seconds, trying to think how exactly he should break the news of what had happened to these guys. He knew there was no correct way, no best way, no proper way of letting them know of everything that had transpired only a few hours earlier.

"There is a lot of confusion aboard this and most Navy ships across this sector. A lot of rumors spreading like wildfire. Some of those rumors are true, some of them are not. I do not know what you may have heard thus far and i'm sure a proper statement will be made by the High Command soon enough. Until then here are the facts i am personally aware of..."

"Earlier today there was an attack on the Annual Naval Review meeting taking place aboard the Cappadocious Station."

A few of the pilots gasped and some whispering could be heard coming from their midst.

"I do not know the exact details myself. What i do know is that through use of a potent poison the Naval Command has been all but obliterated. The Naval Commander in Chief himself managed to survive the attack but is at this time no longer capable to lead. Former Naval Executive Officer Krazanr is now in charge."

The whispering intensified but Seth wasn't bothered by it.

"Although the Commander in Chief survived this attack i fear that many good men and women did not. I regret to inform you that your former commander, Chief Warrant Officer Calfan, was amongst those that died in the first wave. I've just been informed that your Executive Officer was also attending the same meeting. Again i regret to inform you that he too passed away in the last hour."

The whispering came to a halt upon hearing the grave news. The pilots either stood there looking at each other or just dropped their heads, no doubt remembering about their fallen comrades. Seth also noticed the only Twi'lek female was apparently taking the news harder than the rest of her colleagues. She seemed to find some comfort in the embrace of the other Twi'lek in the squadron. The newly assigned squad commander couldn't help but compare their skin tones - the female's a light blue and the male's a strong purple.

"There is no honor falling victim to such a cowardly tactic... There is no glory for a pilot to find his end outside his craft in this manner... These are unfortunately truths that cannot be disputed. Also true however is the fact that whoever did this lacked the strength and courage to oppose the Vast Empire head on. This blow has hit the Vast Empire hard, the Navy harder still for that matter... This was not however a killing blow. Even as we stand here now investigations and being pursued and preparations for war being made. Once we learn the identity of those responsible for this heinous act we shall unleash our wrath upon them and they should fear that time for our wrath shall know no boundaries. Our fallen comrades may have been cheated of a glorious and worthy ending and this alas is something we can never give back to them. What we can however give them is retribution..."

The blond petty officer could see the other pilots giving him quizzical looks, approving looks, anxious looks and a whole lot of other looks as well. Not too surprising really as they needed time to process what they learned and come to terms with how they felt about it.

"And this brings us to the reason i'm here. Overdue as it may be, i am Petty Officer Seth Qorbin, callsign DeepSix. My orders are to replace the late Chief Warrant Officer Calfan and take charge of the Nightshrike Squadron."

The whispering started anew and Seth could detect nuances of indignation, disapproval and surprise. Again he wasn't really surprised since he was expecting this after all.

"Understand that i did not volunteer for the job. Had these been normal circumstances i would've also not been made to take another's command whilst his body has hardly had enough time to cool off. I also understand the skepticism that comes with my rank, as well as the indignation that an outsider comes to take over when some of you here might be just as qualified. All of this is however out of my hands. Throughout the Navy the most senior pilots are being pulled out and granted command or important positions aboard other capital ships. Since a power vacuum was created at the very peak of the command chain emergency promotions are needed to maintain order and efficiency. Thus our situation is by no means unique..."

The other pilots seemed to be more understanding. Many still didn't like the situation but then again they too knew things weren't really up to them in the first place. Everyone inside that room was merely following orders after all.

"Before we move on to other issues are there any questions you'd like to ask me? Speak freely if so."

The others remained silent though. A few continued to exchange looks but otherwise chose not to say anything in the end. The same human female that answered him earlier seemed to take his invitation:

"Where did you serve before this assignment?"

An actual good question Seth thought.

"I was part of the 153rd Squadron, informally known as Rhegent's Reign. Was also a trainer whilst part of the 137th Squadron, again better known as the Raptor Squadron. Any other questions?"

Hearing about the Rhegent's Reign definitely helped. It was a squadron fairly well known after all. Not just anyone made it in and more importantly not just anyone managed to stay in. The every so often impossible mission they faced would see to the latter...

"So are there no further questions? Look, it's not that i'm trying to appear overly friendly and coax you into trusting me, or that i'm really itching for you to find out more about me, or that i'm just too bored to do anything else... It's also possible you'll have more opportunities in the future to ask whatever questions you aquire in the meantime. If you however have any of them right now then feel free to ask them."

He was met by silence however which wasn't really a bad thing either.

"Alright, then moving onwards... In the absence of both the CO and XO who amongst you would be left in charge?"

The same female officer as before took another step forward.

"That would be me sir. Petty Officer Aria Zane, callsign Quicksilver, Gamma's flight leader."

Well that wasn't that big of a shock really. It would explain why she stepped up to answer Seth's very first question. Besides, the fact she chose to continue interacting with him, however little that may have been, also made her more appealing to the Onderonian pilot. He needed someone who knew the squadron and was also able and willing to help him close the chasm between himself and that group. So far the female officer seemed to be a good enough choice for that purpose. As such the following events felt quite natural to Seth and possibly the rest of the squadron as well.

"Alright... Since i'm replacing your former CO i need you to also take over as the new XO. I trust this is fine with the rest of the squadron?"

There were no answers but there was a lot of nodding, a lot of smiling and one of the fellows even patted the female officer on the shoulder.

"Then congratulations are in order Petty Officer Zane."

Aria blushed a bit as she thanked her new CO.

"There is one more change i need to take care of right away. I'm moving whoever flies as Alpha-2 to Beta-1. This way everyone else will be able to continue flying alongside a wingmate. More changes might occur in the near future but before any of those occur i will need to get to know each of you better. I'd need to go over your files, i'd need to see you flying and probably more important than anything else at this point i'd need to learn how to call you."

Seth could see a few of the pilots smiling. Well, at least he was getting through some of them...

"Okay i guess this is pretty much it for now. You are to remain battle ready until further orders but are otherwise free to do whatever you like in the meantime. I ask that the new XO stay behind a bit and help me get my bearings on the ship. Everyone else... dismissed!"

So much had happened in less than a day... Why just a few weeks ago the petty officer was still doing missions as part of the Rhegent's Reign squadron. He went on leave for a bit and met up with Rosh back on Onderon and later with Riyec on Mandalore. With Rosh it was purely a social visit, as his Onderonian pal mentioned nothing of any missions, troubles or similar. With Riyec it was a bit more complicated as he caught the Mandalorian just as he was about to set out on another of his smuggling runs. Since the whole reason he came to Mandalore was to spend some time with his former mentor Seth of course chose to tag along. "Just like old times, eh?" the hardened Mandalorian noted.

Ah yes, the good old times...

Truth be told they weren't that good at the time but then again considering the situations he faced since as part of the Navy, well at least back then he felt somewhat more free, more able to do things the way he wanted to rather than the way he was told to. Even so Seth didn't regret joining the Navy. Why he was in fact supposed to rejoin his former squadron the following day, which was the reason he had everything neatly packed and ready to go. Everything was supposed to happen the same way it did in the past - he'd grab his stuff, hitch a shuttle to the Dead Gun, report in and just wait to be flung into another life or death situation. That he expected... That however was not what happened though.

No, instead he got called off to the Cappadocious Station where everyone looked like utter crap. Whilst waiting with a bunch of other pilots he could hear muffled whispers, certain words occasionally becoming clear - "poison", "dead", "chaos", "attack". It was obvious that something big had happened and actually was still happening but the petty officer had no idea at the time exactly what occurred on that very station during the past hour. This he learned as everyone was briefed by members of the Naval High Command. If Seth hadn't realized things were big before that point well he certainly would've figured it out the moment he would have noticed those bigwigs.

An attack intended to destroy or severely cripple the Vast Empire's Navy. And it was furthermore unleashed right at the heart of it all. Not only did they manage to draw first blood but they managed to do so in a manner meant to further give them an edge in the future. A great plan indeed, though it seems not to have worked as well as probably intended. Then again few things ever do...

As those around him kept getting assigned to various positions Seth continued to ponder on the possible reasons as well as likely next moves. He was in fact so caught up in this little puzzle that he didn't even notice the assignments his colleagues were receiving. Upon hearing his name though his thoughts momentarily paused just enough to hear what it was that he was supposed to do next. And well he heard it alright but alas couldn't really believe it straight away. At first he thought he may have missed his own assignment and heard someone else's. For that purpose he repeated the assignment word for word inside his head. Hmm, no matter how he looked at it he really got assigned to a new squadron. Assigned as the leader of another squadron. In less than a whole minute he turned from grunt to big cheese. Now that was huge...

If the news of the attack made him ponder on why someone would do it, how they likely managed to pull it off and what they were most likely to do next... well the news of his promotion made him ponder on just one thing - why? Was it that his piloting skills were that good? Well they were, so maybe... Was it because he tended to consider and at times even go with somewhat more unorthodox approaches to problems? Well if the brass realized this new enemy did the same thing maybe they also realized they needed people capable of understanding and fighting the enemy at their own game... Could it be that another reason he was chosen was because of his somewhat ruthless nature, putting objectives above almost anything else? Sure, that too was just as possible as everything else... Of course Seth also considered the most plausible explanation of them all - new bodies were needed in higher positions and he just happened to be lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time. It made about as much sense as anything else after all.

After getting his new orders the petty officer boarded a shuttle to Abrae where he returned to his apartment to get his duffel bag. From there he headed to the starport and hitched another shuttle, this time to the Iron Duke star destroyer, the place he was supposed to call home in the immediate future.

And here i am now, commanding a bunch of oddballs...

The Onderonian shook his head, got out of bed and went to the bathroom where he stood in front of the small mirror and looked at himself for a few minutes. He then splashed some water on his face, used a hand towel to dry off and returned to his room. He reached for his duffel bag and began unpacking. Couple of uniforms, some civvie clothes, personal blasters and a few other small trinkets and mementos. Towards the bottom he also found something which he had forgotten he packed. Seeing it he also got an idea as well.

Using his comm device Seth made a few calls to some people aboard the ship, including the ship's XO and the members of his squadron. It took him half an hour or so but he managed to get all the clearances he needed. He grabbed the item he earlier pulled out of the bag and enlisted the help of a crewman to help him reach two locations. First the mess hall and afterward a particular hangar. When they were there the petty officer thanked the crewman and headed inside.

The whole Nightshrike squadron was waiting for him there. Made sense since he told them to. There were also fewer mechanics, techs and guards around thanks to the ship's XO who was informed that the squadron would perform a small unofficial memorial service for their two last members. Seth first handed every member of the squadron a disposable glass - he got them from the mess hall, which was why he had to go there first...

"I know i'm new to this squadron but back on Rhegent we had a sort of unofficial tradition going on. Whenever we lost a colleague we would head out for the closest cantina and drink ourselves away whilst thinking of him. If we could not reach a cantina then we would request a member of the squadron to lend us some really strong... ehm,  he called it tea but it was really anything but regular tea."

"I don't know whether or not you have your own traditions here. If you do i'd like to learn about them as soon as possible. Until then though i'd like you all to share a drink with me in honor of commander Calfan and Warrant Officer Draav."

Having said that Seth opened the bottle of Tihaar he had earlier found stashed away inside his bag. He recalled receiving it from Riyec as thanks for helping him out on his latest trip. Originally he planned on drinking it alone when he would get bored aboard the Dead Gun. This though seemed like a better opportunity to open and likely finish it. He filled each squadron member's glass and then his own. He then held it before him for a moment or two.

"To fallen comrades. May their deaths be avenged and may we prove worthy of carrying on their legacy. Kote!"

Both the Onderonian and all members of the squadron tilted their heads backwards and gulped the strong drink in one go. Seth for one was used to the drink but a few members made quite the funny faces. The petty officer could swear he saw tears forming in the female Twi'lek's eyes. The reptilian member of the squadron also had an interesting reaction, lapping his split tongue across his ehm... lips?

Following that first toast the new Nightshrike squadron spent a few more minutes together talking about some of the exploits of their former members.

"Draav really was a tough bastard till the very end", the former XO's wingmate stated as she gulped down another glass.

"He wasss a fine fighterrr. I ssshall misss having him arrround", Savage added before having another drink as well. Seth wondered whether the humanoid lizard could actually taste it properly or whether he just drank the think like sweet water or something similar...

"The commander was a fine dejarik player. I shall miss our games", the Twi'lek male interjected as well.

The members of the squadron all ended up stating various facts about their former CO and XO. The small service only lasted for ten minutes though - the amount of time Mallou approved... and well also the amount of time required to finish the whole bottle of Mandalorian liquor without risking internal burns. Even so it was time enough for Seth to further bond a bit with his new squadron, which was what he mainly intended through this action really...

"ETA, one hour to the Ator system, Admiral," Commander Ward informed. Stormz could see the effect of the recent events on the Ship Captain's face.

[Thank you, Commanderr. Leave me now, I have a lot of paperrworrk to finish beforre ourr arrrrival,] muttered the Wookiee commander. Not quite three weeks into his new duty, he'd already grown tired of it. The Admiral longed to be back in his old position. Back when there wasn't any infighting or unknown enemies. He'd never trusted anyone, and these things reminded him why. [Enough of that thinking,] he told himself, [/i][focus on the work at hand.][/i] No longer having emotions did have one major advantage, he didn't mope or whine about things he couldn't change. Stress rarely hindered his work at all either.

Another problem he had, was the lack of information sent by the Commodore. Stormz had no idea what he was getting into, and he really wasn't interested in losing a pair of Star Destroyers or his life for that matter. He had, however, kept the mSSD Atrus rather close, and on standby just in case they bit off more than they could chew. The Admiral was rather good at finding trouble.

*****

The ISD Devastator came out of hyperspace in a magnificent flash and appeared Just outside of orbit within the Ator system.

"No hostile ships on scan, Admiral", informed Lieutenant Arcane, the logistics officer aboard Stormz temporary flagship.

"[Excellent, contact the Irron Duke and inforrm them we will rrendezvous with them in the Sedrrratis system as soon as I load my rrreplacement crrrew.]", Instructed the Wookiee commander," [I want reports ready within the hourr, I will be in my chamberrs should you rrequire me.]"