Leviathan, Cumulus Class Corsair Arx Space, Dark Jedi Brotherhood Territory
A serpentine figure lounged in the chair of his command throne. It never ceased to amaze him when he witnessed the sheer scale that the Brotherhood operated at. Hundreds of ships traveled to and from Planet Arx every day; some of which would be traveling to meet him very soon.
”Terminal, begin scheduled transmission.”
The RGT Holoterminal booted to life. It required several moments to scan the nearby surroundings for the recording, and a few more to encrypt the message with a Brotherhood Envoy Cipher.
The green skinned Thissasspian continued his message.
”For those of you who don’t know me, I am Hector Von Ricmore. I am Quaestor to House Deathwatch, Son of Vizsla, Slayer of Darth Scimitar. You are receiving this message as I have a proposition for all of you.
I have little doubt that you have heard of Clan Vizsla and our, how should I say, more mercenary ways. We deal with a large variety of sentients during our contracts. It was on one of these that I learned of an opportunity; a chance for the entire Brotherhood to profit.
Our organization has had a resurgence in ship building. Proven members are now able to construct small capital ships in the form of Corvettes. Clan’s have built more elaborate fleets and space based defenses. All of this costs credits and material.
The opportunity I have found will allow us to acquire both. As payment for a bounty, I received coordinates to an asteroid in the Socorro Asteroid Belt, located in the Outer Rim. This celestial body is rich in unrefined doonium, a valuable metal needed in the construction and repair of our starships.
There is however one catch to our ability to profit. A portion of the Galactic Mining Guild has staked a claim on this asteroid. And they won’t give it up without a fight. To those who receive this message, if you are interested, please meet me at the location included in this message. Once we gather in Arx space we can set up a communication network and proceed to the Asteroid Belt as a group. I look forward to meeting with you all soon, and seeing what skills you can bring to the operation.
Credits, not words.”
Hyperion, Hammerhead-class Corvette Arx space, Dark Jedi Brotherhood territory
The whirling maelstrom of hyperspace gave way to a mess of elongated stars, before the Hyperion emerged back into the galaxy. Nat had witnessed the sight multiple times a day throughout her short life, but it still held its charm. There was something otherworldly about it, as if every different sight offered to the ship as it emerged from that tunnel of light was a reminder there were new horizons still to be charted. This time was a rarity - Emerging just close enough to be in the territories of an inhabited planet, but far enough away to not be interrupted. The world in question, Arx, hung like a blue and white orb in the void, surrounded by a shimmering necklace of arriving and departing vessels.
A loud series of bleeps and whistles shook Nat from her reverie, and she looked back at the astromech droid plugged into the main navigation console.
“Good to know,” Nat said, managing to make a smile which wouldn’t be mistaken as a snarl despite her broad reptilian features. “I guess all the credits we spent putting the Scorpi- the Hyperon back together were worth it.”
More bleeps answered her, taking on a far more accusatory and belligerent tone this time.
“Because, Ratchet, we’re still missing parts. The light turbolasers, forward blaster cannon, and a lot of other upgrades I’d really like to get before the Collective comes looking for us.”
The indignant whistle sounded unconvinced as he turned his head back toward the station he was plugged into. Nat gave a smirk, fiddling with a dial on her salvage equipment, more out of habit than necessity. Like most droids on the ship, Ratchet was one who had been given ownership of himself, but had largely used it as an excuse to question every order.
Unlike most, it was something she saw as a quality. It was likely something to do with them both having been built to serve uncaring masters, only in her case it had been a science test tube rather than a factory line. Deciding to not push the droid further, Nat reached up with one gloved hand and thumbed the activation switch to the main communications beam.
“Leviathan, this is Captain Nat of the Hyperion. Credits and salvage go a long way to getting our interest, and right now you have my undivided attention.”
Hector Von Ricmore was quite pleased. A quick response, and the presence of another Corvette bolstered the growing force considerably.
“We’re pleased to hear it Hyperion. There will be opportunity for both on this mission. I hope to wait for others to join us before discussing and crafting a plan of assault. But I can speak a bit as to your payment. Firstly, you may keep whatever Doonium you can physically haul into your cargo holds.
Additional payment will be provided for your services. This can take the form of Mon Calamari Flan, Unmarked Weaponry, Spice, Platinum, or other valuable metals. The value of credits seems to change as the regimes of the galaxy fluctuate, so I prefer to pay in more assured currency. Excellent service deserves a payment of a quality you can depend on, don’t you agree?”
Nat considered this for a moment, her broad tail sweeping the deck behind her as he considered their options. Straightforward, fair, and not a bad choice overall. On any other day she would have agreed so they could get a move on, but the vessel’s current demands did add one slight complication.
“Generous of you to offer, Leviathan. I’ll agree to that, on one condition - We get to keep any salvage we can carry from hostile ships, troops, or the facility itself. Anything which we pick up that came from friendlies will be returned to them.”
Spare parts went a long way, and she had the feeling that there was about to be a lot of scrap metal floating about the void in the upcoming battle.
Socorro Asteroid Belt Mining Facility
Another grueling shift in the mines came to an end with a blare of the buzzer announcing the night shift was over and the day shift was taking over. Not that one can tell when day began and night ended in the mines. Twelve-hour shifts, 7 days a week, make everything blur together. Korvyn climbed down from the scaffolding where he had been operating his pneumatic drill. There were faster ways to mine Doonium, but they were much more expensive than the Miners Guild wanted to pay. Cheap labor from the dregs of society that no one would miss was much more cost-effective.
Thankfully, he had only been here 4 days, and if the plan went off well, he would only be here a couple more days. The things he did for the Arx Capital Exchange and the pursuit of more materials for the Brotherhood’s war machine. Getting in was easy, dress like a down-on-his-luck man from a backwater planet. Apply for a job in the mines and put no next of kin on the emergency contacts section of the application. But for now, he needed a shower and to set the next part of his plan in motion.
They got two “meals” a day in the dining hall, if you wanted to call them that. It was more like nutrient-rich slop. It didn’t taste any better than it looked on the tray. Korvyn had eaten worse, but barely. At least he wouldn’t mind wasting it as he stumbled on purpose from the line, his tray spilling all over the large man in front of him. As the man turned around to see what had happened, Korvyn hit him in the gut with his right hand. Doubled over in pain, he had no defense for Korvyn, who raised both hands together and swung them down like he had a sledgehammer in his hand. He fell straight to the floor as the guards rushed in with stun batons in hand. This was going to hurt, the Praetor thought to himself as he raised his hands in surrender. They didn’t care and hit him with the electric charges repeatedly.
“You’re going to the brig until the boss decides if you live or your wages are cut in half for a month,” the large Weequay guard said as they dragged a nearly unconscious Korvyn out of the mess Hall.
Arx Space, Approach Vector to the Leviathan
The blue tunnel of hyperspace snapped away, leaving Taurus staring at the familiar specks of starlight and the soft, pale glow of Arx. The planet just hung there, calm, almost serene, with ships buzzing around it like a busy wasp nest. Business as usual for Brotherhood space. Taurus let his Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor settle, syncing up the nav computer with the coordinates from that message he’d gotten earlier. After a quick drift, the hyperspace ring released the little matte-black ship with a hollow clang. The stabilizers kicked in, nudging him to a clean stop, lined up with an approach vector he’d eyeballed more than calculated. He slipped into the swarm of traffic, the dark hull disappearing into the emptiness. Just ahead, the silhouette of the Leviathan emerged. Initially, slowly, before becoming distinct against the stars, positioned well beyond the dense traffic surrounding Arx. The Cumulus-class Corsair was impossible to miss, its long dagger shape marking the spot where Hector Von Ricmore wanted everyone to gather. Behind him, R3-T6 let out a string of annoyed whistles, flashing the image of the abandoned hyperspace ring on the edge of Taurus’s display. Taurus just shot a glance at the alert before focusing back on his flight path. “Settle down,” he muttered. “Dragging a hyperspace ring in ruins the whole entrance.” The message that brought him here still hovered on his HUD, promising Profit, opportunity, and a shot at challenging the Mining Guild’s grip on the Socorro belt. He opened the comms as the interceptor dropped neatly into the Leviathan’s approach pattern. “Leviathan, this is Brother Taurus.” A short pause. “Brother Taurus of Clan Vizla, responding to your call, Quaestor Hector Von Ricmore.” Taurus eased off the throttle, letting the ship fall in with the gathering crowd around the Leviathan, ready for whatever came next.
Storm’s Voice, Raider-II Corvette Edge of Arx Space
“Jump complete, High Councillor,” said a voice over the comms. “We have arrived at the edge of the Arx territory as you requested.”
“Very good, helmet. Bring us in slowly. No need for them to get jumpy and start shooting at us.”
The small woman didn’t think that highly of the Council or those who protected its heart. Come to think of it, Miho barely trusted those who were to keep her own territory safe. Maybe it was a her problem.
With a shrug, she picked up the black hat resting on the desk in her state room and put it on, pulling the brim low over her eyes for a moment.
<<Do you always need the hat?>>
“Yes, Pips. I don’t, in fact, need the hat,” she retorted coldly. “I ought to remove your vocal circuits. You’d be better company if you stopped nagging.”
<<But, then you would be bored.>>
He had a point, the little prick. Miho rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at the small droid who had jumped up on her desk as it harangued her. Content that the task was sdonw sufficiently, the BD droid, fondly called Pips, tapped his feet on the desk with a soft trill then jumped up onto Miho’s jacket, feet clapping onto the fabric.
“Well, shall we go see what that message was about?”
======
Arriving on the bridge, she looked at the small crew and smiled. “Alright, friends. Let’s get a channel open.”
A chime sounded just before the small Kyataran began to speak again.
“Greetings, Leviathan. The Storm’s Voice has arrived to join your growing fleet of ships to help you with your little Guild problem. Her guns and captain stand ready.”
With a sharp gesture, the transmission ended as quickly as it began. Perhaps a profit could be made on this trip, perhaps not. If nothing else, being owed a favor or two was always nice.
Hyperion, Hammerhead-class Corvette Arx space, Dark Jedi Brotherhood territory
The two new markers blinked and flickered on the the hovering teal-blue orb dominating a portion of the Hyperion’s bridge, adjusting and updating as IFF information and comunications added details. Three corvettes then, Nat thought, a toothy grin spreading across her features. And one Jedi Starfighter atop of that. A bit lacking in snubfighters, but far from a bad raiding force given their target.
“Hyperion to new arrivals, nice to see you two here,” Nat said, as the Hammerhead came to a standstill at a respectable distance from the Leviathan. “Good to know you’re interested in some good old fashioned corsair work.”
That earned Nat a couple of odd looks from the others on the bridge, and a disparaging whistle from Clanker. The bravado was something of a front, given how often Nat and her crew had spent raiding derelicts and avoiding uphill battles. Still, from where she was standing, there wasn’t much of a difference. The only difference this time would be that those they were fighting and those they were stealing from would be the same people, over picking for scraps over the skeletons of Star Destroyers.
** SV Century Hawk, Cockpit**
“We’re approaching the rendevous point near Arx, Major.” Reece tooted from his perch, standing atop the left hand(pilots) chair in the cockpit of his new vessel. In reality the vessel was co-owned by himself and Karracca, but the plucky emancipated astromech never quibbled over minor details like that.
“Thank you Captain. I appreciate your willingness to transport us here on your fine new vessel.” The Ugnaught commando and Textile entrepreneur replied from his own perch, standing on the co-pilots chair next to him.
“No worries pal, I wanted a chance to break in these engines anyway. Can’t believe the big guy amd I were able to find one of these YT-1300s in such mint condition.” The astromech beep booped as flicked the vessels Brotherhood IFF transponder back on before dropping the vessel of our Hyperspace a few dozen million miles from the rendevous point.
Major Treel raised an eyebrow as he noticed the astromech adeptly handling the controls of the vessels. Using his data probe to manipulate the vessels access port and his two articulating armatures efficiently operated the consoles dials, switches and throttles.
“Looks like several other members have answered Quaester Ricmores call. Im picking up a Cumulus class corsair, 2 corvettes, a shuttle, and a Jedi starfighter.” Reece booped and beeped as he read of the report from the scanners.
“Mmmm. Very well, please send a signal to Lord Ricmore and inform him of my arrival.” Treel said as he jumped down from the co-pilots chair.“
"You? Karracca never said anything about us just dropping you off. We’re sticking around to help too bub.” Reece’s more ornery side started to shine through.
Eta-2 Actis-Class Interceptor Arx Space, Dark Jedi Brotherhood Territory
The Leviathan loomed over Taurus’ interceptor, filling the canopy as he finished his approach. A heartbeat later, his HUD lit up, transmission from the corsair. Landing vector, hangar clearance. They were letting him in. He grinned. Not bad.
“See, T3? Told you we didn’t need the ring. We’ve got a spot and hitched a ride.”
T3 answered with a string of annoyed beeps and thrills.
“Of course i knew it. The Force tipped me off. Always comes through with shelter when you need it… or, well, something like that.” Taurus couldn’t help but chuckle as he nudged the controls, angling toward the dorsal hangar.
He wasn’t the only arrival anymore. Two corvettes and a freighter drifted into formation around the Leviathan, their signatures popping up on his screens while T3 updated the onboard computer. The interceptor slipped through the hangar’s shield, gliding inside. As usual, T3 took over the landing, clearly not trusting Taurus after his last few “enthusiastic” touchdowns. The fighter settled onto the deck. Engines wound down. Taurus popped his harness and stood, stretching.
“I’m off to see Von Ricmore,” he said, giving T3’s dome a quick pat as he climbed out. “Stay put, keep us ready, and try not to start another droid uprising, alright?” He chuckled and walked off to the bridge, before the droid could answer him.
Leviathan, Cumulus Class Corsair Arx Space, DJB Territory
An ensign garbed in the Uniform of the Iron Legion Navy stepped forward.
“Sir. Several visitors to see you. They’ve arrived in the hangar bay.”
The armored serpent gave a nod of approval.
“Send them up to the bridge. We’ll finalize our planning in this conference and prepare to jump.”
It appeared that most of the operatives were arriving. With some on board his ship and others joining the holocall, they would soon construct a plan of action. The mining guild would face the wrath of the Brotherhood member fleet.
….
They really needed a better name for the growing rag tag group of adventurers and ships.
‘Would it be too egotistical to suggest Ricmore’s Raiders?’ He wondered.
Leviathan, Cumulus Class Corsair, Hangar Arx Space, DJB Territory
Nat had quickly crossed over at the first opportunity. With her own ship holding steady not far from them, and enough of a presence from Clan Odan-Urr to cause trouble if this was an elaborate double-cross, she’d opted to head over alone. A fact she was already beginning to regret. Still wearing the bulky salvage gear designed more for stripping a ship of its equipment in hard vacuum over anything else, she was at odds with everyone else present. Opting to stand to one side, arms folded and tail coiled about one leg, she was being as nonchalant as she could manage in that moment. Yet even with her helmet hooked at her belt, both the gear and being surrounded by far more natural killers made Nat feel as if she’d painted a target on her back before walking over.
Still, the opportunity had been one she wasn’t going to pass up. A chance to both see a few of the Brotherhood’s other members up close, a first given how long the Hyperion had been stuck undergoing heavy repairs since joining, but also to see a Cumulus up close. Nat had known of the ship by both design and reputation, but of her last three encounters with one, two had been in a violent skirmish over salvage rights, while the third had been stripping the guns off of one found crashed into a planetoid.
Nat’s eyes drifted from one section of the hangar to the next, taking it all in, and occasionally pausing on people, ships, or just a few interesting details she picked out.
“So,” Nat said, making some effort at small talk with a few others who had come over and told to wait there. “Done this sort of thing before?”
Arx Space Approaching the Leviathan
The moment Ro-Tahn’s Fang Fighter ship came out of hyperspace, he took the throttle and maneuvered the fighter towards the coordinates his sister had sent him. Entering the berth of the Leviathan, he opened his comms and requested for clearance to land in the hanger, along with letting them know he was there to help. After a few moments, the clearance came through. He sent out a quick message, before skillfully flying the fighter into the designated hanger and landing near several other ships.
Jumping out, he looked around at the ship, then saw several other pilots gathering. Assuming that where they were all meeting to get a good layout of plan, he and his BB-8 droid Dunga, joined the congregation.
After waiting their turn to dock, Treel and Reece headed down the ramp of their Corellian freighter onto the hangar of the Leviathan. Reece immediately recognized Ro and Dunga and tweeted and warbled, “I know you’re new to this whole gangster thing, so I would suggest we follow that guy, he knows how to have a good time.
As they approached Reece caught Dungs eye, "Find any more toe nail clippings of the Emperor in any secret Imperial bases recently.” He asked.
“Oh, it’s you again? Helped your master crash any perfectly good ships recently.” Dunga replied.
“He’s not my Master, I’m an emancipated droid these days. And no, they promoted hin so now he’s in charge of a Frigate, and they dont let him near the nav console.” Reece booped as he rolled uo next to them.
“Emancipated eh…” Dunga beeped to himself.
“So whats the plan big guy? The message mentioned a bunch of credits to be earned.” Reece asked Ro
“We’re about to find out.” Ro replied as he led Treel and the 2 droids over to the lift that would take them up to Ricmore’s conference room.
The doors to the bridge opened, admitting the remaining attendees of the meeting.
Hector Von Ricmore took a moment to glance at the entering group. A variety of different species and different heights, including a Togruta, Wookiee, Ugnaught, and a horned Devaronian. Bowing his head in a nod of respect, the Serpent then turned back to the meeting.
“Everyone attending should now be present. Any latecomers can be informed later.”
“Terminal. Display Socorro Battlemap.”
The massive circular computer beeped and whirred. A stream of blue light ushered into the bridge, displaying a series of celestial bodies.
“This is the Socorro Asteroid Belt. A series of asteroids rich in doonium ore, a metal which we use in the construction of our ships. We have recently learned from our agent within the Mining Guild that Asteroid Besh-3 is particularly rich in the ore used to produce the metal; potentially holding as much as five times the regular value. The guild has set up a mining facility nearby. The workers live on a space station parked in orbit of the asteroid. The station itself has a variety of automated defenses and guards, but our knowledge is limited since our agent has gone dark. Before doing so, his last transmission contained information about the naval forces used by the guild.”
“We can confirm the existence of at least one capital ship. A well armed Carrack Class Light Cruiser. Additionally, at least a single squadron of Tie Fighters patrol the installation.”
“I would like for us to develop a plan of action for dealing with these defenses, investigating the fate of our agent and offering rescue if needed, and taking the doonium ore for the Brotherhood. Are there any suggestions?”
“Surprise the Carrack and ram it?” Nat said, speaking up before she could stop herself. It took a moment to realise how stupid this sounded and, swallowing her pride, opted to double down. “Those things can take a lot of punishment, and it can probably outgun us all combined. So, if I could get in there first and it it hard enough - preferably into something else - it would give us a good opening.”
She looked from one captain to the next and gave a not entirely self conscious shrug.
“It tends to usually work when making a run for hyperspace, so I’m sure it can work in reverse. The trick would be to get close enough before they know why we’re there.”
Socorro Asteroid Belt Mining Facility Brig
The dim lighting was the first thing that awakened Korvyn. He didn’t know exactly how long he had been out, but since the alarms were not blaring and he was still alive, the attack hadn’t happened yet, and he was most likely getting his pay cut in half. He rolled over to take stock of his surroundings. It was basically nothing more than a carved-out hole in the side of the asteroid with a bunch of bars over the front of it. One single dim light was hanging in the air above him. Unlike the food, this was by far the worst cell he had ever been in, for all the right reasons. No surveillance, fewer guards, and it was near the exit of the mines.
He had a plan in place; now all he needed to do was wait until the rest of the team attacked. Getting out of the cell would be easy. The guards didn’t even bother to search him. His sabers had been hidden in his inner pockets. Shouldn’t take much to free any other prisoners and then find the control room. If all went to plan, he would have control of the facility before the mining guild even knew what happened. With nothing else to do until then, he sat down in the corner and began meditating.
Arx Space Leviathan
Ramming a capital ship sounded foolish at first, but if one took the time to consider the variables, it was not nearly as unwise as one might think.
Hector Von Ricmore considered the suggestion carefully. Ramming a ship put the crew in considerable danger. But it could be quite effective. And with the shape of some vessels the odds of pulling off the maneuver dramatically increased.
“I think this plan of yours can work. The Leviathan and our other vessels can draw the Carrack out. Our light freighters and starfighters can screen against the Tie Squadron. And your vessel can deliver a devastating ram at the opportune moment.”
“Does anyone have any additions or objections to the suggested plan?”
The very recently promoted Colonel Treel, whose head was barely visible above the table top as he sat in the standard sized chair, stood up on the seat cushion and leaned his hands on the desk.
“I would like to volunteer to lead or join a ground force team to aid and or support your agent already on the surface. I and my team have a long and succesful record of performing operations of exactly this type.”
“He’s not lying, Brother Treel is old as fluff, and used to run spec ops for the Alliance and New Republic. He’s an OG at that kinna stuff.” Reece beep booped from behind the Ugnaughts chair.
<@476595775187451913>
“I have no objections to that. I can provide you with two things. Firstly, the Frostwolf Special Missions company and the dropship they will travel in. Secondly, once the enemy naval assets are dealt with, or weakened enough, the Leviathan will turn its gun whales towards the mining facility. You will be given comm frequencies for the Frostwolf company and targeting permissions for the ship weaponry.”
“Unfortunately I do have some bad news. We’re lacking in fighters and screening ships, so we can’t afford to give your transports a proper escort. Our fighters will screen both the corvettes and your ships to start, but when you hit atmosphere it will be up to your pilots to finish the journey.”
“What if they couldn’t get into the air?” Nat asked, already considering several options. She reached out, one hand tracing the general orbit of the spiralling debris field of rock, then the areas where they knew they facilities were located. Thus far there were only rough estimates to work on when it came to enemy strength, disposition, and where they were located, but given the static nature of the main facilities they could at least make a relative guess.
“If some of us could get into the system and have one of our bigger ships bombard where we think the fighters are housed, it might slow them down. Or better yet, prevent them getting airborne at all. Ion explosions to fry snubfighter circuits, or typical ordinance to blow up anything vulnerable. Perhaps get lucky and hit something vulnerable like a refuelling station and set things on fire.”
It was an undeniably Imperial tactic. Rush in hard and fast, and rely on sheer firepower to try and win the day. It was also hardly without risks, as it meant any corvette could be vulnerable to incoming fire from the surface. It would also rely upon them getting close enough to attack, and that meant distracting the fleet long enough to pull it off, but stalling the ground assault for just long enough to open fire.
“Um, if I’m talking out of my rear please speak up, but it seems a better option than flying transports into a wave of enemy fighters.”
<@476595775187451913> <@1178915035049902120>
“It’s certainly worth a try, I’ll give you that,” Hector responded.
“Is anyone present here skilled in the art of falsehoods? I can whip up some fake identifications before we travel. I just need to know what the cover story will be. They won’t hold up under intense scrutiny; but with a skilled enough actor buying time, you should be able to get in close enough to discover where the enemy fighters are parked with a series of scans. And perhaps even make an assault.”
“I would like to add that is not without risk. Typical imperial doctrine will call for having the fighters on patrol; I would expect for anywhere between 1-3 of the Tie Fighters to already be airborne. But the others; those would almost certainly be grounded and viable targets for a raid.”
A bunch of excited and rapid beeps, boops, toots, honks and trills came from behind the conference room chair that Treel was standing on, “Falsehoods are my jam, and I got a squeeky clean new modded out YT-1300. My crew consists of 4 freelance contractors and myself. I was just freed from bondage only a few months ago, and before that my enslav…owners had traded and sold me on the private market for over two decades.”
The arguably deranged, but erstwhile and eager R3 droid whose cpu, cognitive circuits and data processors were rapidly approaching rampancy, deployed the jump thrusters from his ‘shoulders’ and boosted himself up onto the table. “Give me a half decent cover as a cargo freighter coming to pick up a shipment, and I’ll get the scans and the intel we need to pull off this ‘Nerf and Tauntaun Parade’. You know, if you want, or approve, or give me permission or whatever.” Those in the meeting who were fluent in the audible astromech binary languages, recognized that the tone of the last sentence was contrite and outright bashful for a droid.
Treel quickly translated the Captain of the Century Hawks beeps, tweets, and meeps meant for those who weren’t fluent.
“Is this all for real, or a joke Colonel?” Hector asked Treel, honestly unsure how to take the green droids little outburst.
“I suspect the astromech is being genuine. I will not vouch for his skills or capabilities, as I do not, nor have I ever owned him. But I will vouch for his claim that he was recently emancipated and is the Captain of said vessel.”
A few moments of silence followed the astromech’s pronouncement of its own grandeur. A few sideways glances seemed to indicate most were unsure if this was a serious boast of triumph or the beginnings of some practical joke.
“If he’s this confident in the face of the Guild?” Nat shrugged, not bothering to hide her grin. “I’d say we go with him.”
There was something to be said for a sheer pig-headed bullish drive to get a task over and done with, and being obnoxious enough to make others not wish to deal with you. Most guards simply weren’t paid enough to do more than basic cargo checks and make sure the person they were dealing with wasn’t secretly hiding an E-Web under their coat, about to blow everyone away.
<@1178915035049902120>
The little droid cognitive circuits kicked into high gear and he thought to himself, “The guild? Theres millions of guilds in the galaxy, what makes this one special. I guess I should go through the mission specs if Im going to be a part of it now…Oh! That guild. Good thing I got a fast ship.”
“Thank you Captain.” Reece beep bonked towards the white Trandoshan who had just surprisingly spoke up for him. He then used his thrusters to hop off the table.
It seemed that a plan was now in place.
“If we are all decided, I suggest we make our way to our individual vessels and prepare to travel. I’ll transmit a series of documents for possible cover identities, chose the one that most benefits your planned performance.”
Hector took in the group before him.
“One way or another, we’re all in this together. If anyone wants to back out, now’s the time. Once we jump to hyperspace, we are all committed to seeing the raid through. Good luck everyone. And May the Force be with you.”
Reece, motivated by what he perceived as ‘his giant leap forward’ for all of droidkind(getting assigned to lead a mission in his own right) beep bootled, “Great speach boss man. We’ll be ready to launch in less then a half hour” as he rolled out of the room.
Colonel Treel spryly hopped down from the chair he had been standing on and followed the pugnatious plucky droid.
“So I assume you have a plan Master Droid.” He said half mockingly.
“Frack no, gonna totally wing it on my end. You’re the species ops, commando guru. How hard could it be, we assume a cover identity as a freighter coming to pick up a shipment. While we’re on the ground we figure out where the fighters are housed and their patrol schedule. Then we take off and report back to the Task Force. Job done, send the invoice, wait foenthe credits.” Reece trilled, bonked, booped.
The cocksure attitude aside, the more time Treel spent around the old green and white astromech, the more he was starting to like the little robot. From the Ugnaughts perspective the “Humanoid Associative Behavioral Syndrome” that the R3 was clearly suffering from didn’t seem as dangerous or debilitating as the robotics manuals and cybernetics expert often made it out to be.
“Perhaps we can tranquilize 2 Corvuns with one dart then. Your new ship has an auxiliary tight beam comm unit as a back-up for the main communications array, correct?” Treel was already formulating how he could incorporate his own mission on the ground to aid the mole and the Frostwolf Company that had been seconded to him. If Reece was planning on working his cover identity right through and actually land at the mining base, Treel and his small team of commandos might aswell take advantage of it.
Nat walked back to the airlock where her ship had been docked, only taking a moment to look over the others joining her. Subterfuge followed by rampant violence. Perhaps life in the Brotherhood wasn’t going to be so hard to adjust to after all. Idly scratching the back of her neck, she ran the likely details of the Carrack through her head. Small, able to equal speeds with an X-Wing, could operate with a skeleton crew, light armour but with enough redundancies to make them exceptionally hard to kill, and enough turbolasers to be dubbed a cruiser, despite being only relatively larger than a Nebulon B frigate.
She was still running battle simulations through her head as she walked back onto the Hyperion’s lower decks and up toward the bridge. Nat was only surprised to see someone besides Ratchet helping out on the bridge, having effectively taken command.
“Ratchet’s downstairs, helping a few of the Pit droids fix up a botched patch job someone made,” the gangly figure said half-turning from the console he was sitting in front of, a mess of head-tendrils trailing at the slight motion. “I’d repeat what he said, but I’d be swearing for at least the next six minutes.”
Like most of the Dead Ends, Rax had been one of the rejected biological experiments sent on suicide missions. A thin and lanky frame, the efforts to mix a combination of Quarran, Nautolan, and Gungan DNA had given him an uncanny look which made Nat difficult not to stare at, even after years of knowing one another. She wasn’t sure if his habit of constantly - and accurately - predicting a person’s next words was born of irritation at this, or just a habit he’d picked up.
“Good, we’ll need his help convincing the droids to go along with this,” Nat said, walking past to sit at the main helm controls, looking over the details in front of her.
“And the plan?”
“Other people sneak in, a few ships start a fight, and we ram a cruiser,” Nat said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll go over the details once the others are up here.”
“I have heard worse ones, although not many,” Rax bristled, with a resigned sigh.
Century Hawk, Cockpit
Their cover story seemed solid, they were assuming the rome a freighter that had been subcontracted by the SoruSuub Corp to pick up 150 tons of doonium and deliver it to a subsidiary refinery of theirs 10 parsecs coreword of thr Arx Sector.
Treel and his 3 middle aged Ugnaught commando compatriots would accompany Reece and his small crew on the insertion. Once they ID’d the location and posture of the mines fighter complement they would signal main force with the coordinates. The Century Hawk and Treels team would then cover the main attack, serving as a 5th column, hitting the targets AA defenses and providing suppressive fires for the Frostwolf Company’s landing shuttles that would perform the actual seizure and securing of the site.
“Now to see if those those intel cranks did their job or not.” Reece beep bonked.
“The gunners aren’t manning their posts?” Treel as from the rear jumpseat of the cockpit as Reece “sat” in the pilots seat.
“Nope, we’re making a routine cargo stop. Why would my guns be manned. If we get busted they’ll slap a tractor beam on us or blow us out of orbit. Our dual and quad laser cannon gunners wouldnt be a factor at that point.”
“Well said master droid.” The old Ugnaught replied as Reece dropped the YT-1300 out of Hyperspace a few million miles from the mining operation.
Socorro Asteroid Belt Carrack Class Cruiser Space near the Mining Facility
Tim Simmons stared at the blinking light in front of him in disbelief.
Something unexpected had happened. Nothing exciting usually happened this far out. Pirates stayed away due to their reputation and equipment, and space anomalies were predictable enough. Yet despite this, A new signal had just appeared on his terminal. The preliminary sensor scan reporting what appeared to be a starship. The machine couldn’t tell much else from so far away, they’d have to close the distance to see more.
“Cap’n, we’ve got a new signature. Ship must’ve just jumped into system.”
The Captain stepped over to the crewman. Tall and gaunt, she towered over the sitting crewman.
“You appear to be correct. We are not expecting any additional ships today. Transmit a message to Apex squadron. Have them send a patrol to investigate the new ship.”
“Right away cap’n.”
Captain Dolores Ambridge gazed out the transparisteel window of her bridge. The anomaly was probably nothing. Paperwork got lost and ships forgot to check in all the time. Still, it didn’t hurt to take precautions, especially as 2 of her 10 heavy turbolasers will still out of commission from a recent ion storm.
Jai’s ETA-2 held steady behind the formation with its slender frame cutting cleanly through the void as the rest of the team pressed ahead. He kept himself offset and never directly in line, never predictable. Rear support but poised like a drawn blade.
Within the cockpit the humming of the engines was constant yet almost meditative.
First, his eyes moved as they scanned the right side diagnostic panel. Power distribution sat slightly forward just as he liked. Engines held highest priority which gave him immediate acceleration when needed to break formation and intercept. Shields were operational as expected with subtle bias that would suggest intent without committing to it. Unknown signatures laid dormant for the moment though his eyes were always on the lookout.
Only after the visual pass would his fingers move. Tapping through confirmations one by one. He never trusted green indicators alone and never will.
A slight pressure on the control yoke soon followed. The interceptor responded in a pinch, a controlled roll which bled into a soft yaw. Hardly noticeable within the formation but enough for him to feel the ship answer without delay. No overcorrection.
“Good..” he muttered under his breath.
“Now to see if these ID numbers, passwords and fake invoices codes are good enough to stop them from blowing us out of orbit.” Reece chirped at Treel.
“The scanners are picking up 4 contacts on their way towards us. Looks like a flight of TIE fighters.” The Ugnaught replied.
“Well, time to do some smooth talking then.” Reece beeped as opened a comm channel with audio and text enabled.
“This is the Freighter Century Hawk calling the GMG facility on Asteroid Besh-3.”
“*Century Hawk this is GMG Outpost 53. You are entering a restricted area, please halt where youbare and state your business…uh, and are you aware that your comms are being transmitted in Droid Binary?” The reply came with a hint of amusement.
“Of course I’m aware, I’m R3-E5, the Captain of this vessel. We apologize for the late arrival. We’ve been contracted by SoruSuub Corp to transport the final load of Doonium from Invoice Number 47369 Aurek 4. Apparently the vessel that transported the other shipments ran into some legal entanglements at Sluis Van. Our contract states that we are to pick up 137 tons of Doonium and haul it SoruSuubs refinery on Sullust. They provided a passcode as well. Should I transmit that to you now? Or is that something we confirm in the hangar?” Reece looked over to Treel who was frowning and shaking his head.
“Copy that Century Hawk. Invoice number checks out. We just need you to..uh..submit to a brief scan once you land. Please hold a moment.”
A series of scuffle and scraping noises transmitted over the comm.
“Sorry about that, had to find a datapad. You’re clear to proceed to Landing Pad 3. Tie Patrol will escort you in. From there, wait for the scan and the go ahead to enter the hangar. Refuse to follow protocol, and we’ll send a security team in.”
The quarter of Tie fighters flew closer to the Century Hawk. Each flew to a different section, forming a rough diamond around the vessel.
“This is Apex 4. I’ll be serving as your escort. Follow us at cruising speed, no sudden acceleration.”
“Too bad. Sudden accelerations is what this barge excells at…I suppose you guys aren’t into doing a race down to the Landing pad then?…just kidding guys.” Reece replied as he doggedly stayed on the rear quarter of Apex 4.
After he closed the comm channel he turned his dome towards Treel, “We got anything on board that’s going to look out of place when they scan us?”
“Aside from my team and all our weapons and combat gear?”
“Yeah aside from that, if they give me any guff I’ll tell ‘em your my security detail.”
“I’ll go and sanitize the ship of any and all evidence that we are affiliated with the Brotherhood.” Treel muttered as he exited the cockpit.
“Good call.” Reece beep bonked.
The hangar doors opened, admitting the entrance of five sentient beings. Four carried blaster pistols holstered at their waist, while a fifth held a datapad in one hand. The group made their way over to the recently docked ship.
“Alright Century Hawk. Prepare for a routine scan. Once we clear you please disembark the vehicle? Leave anything larger than a blaster pistol behind. We’ll let you keep the sidearms, these miners are an unruly lot.”
The guild official pressed several buttons on the datapd. Blue light sprung from the ceiling of the hangar, slowly approaching the vessel to scan the interior.
“Acknowledged.” Reece replied to the comm. For several moments the R3 and his stalwart band of Ugnaught gunners and commandos sat in silence, awaiting their fate.