Bridge, ANS Brightlight
Kalen, Zuser, Karracca and a few of the ships other senior officers were mingling on the command deck, as they were about to undock from Hellas station and embark on the first leg of their first mission when the sensor officer hollered out that he was tracking a single small approaching the station from the outer system.
“Got an ID?” Kalen asked.
“Standby…It’s a TIE fighter sir. LN series, Plagueian IFF and transponder confirmed.” The young Lt eventually replied.
“They’re requesting permission to land now Milord.” A comms officer added from a nearby console well.
“Interesting.” Zuser said.
“I suspect that that my be the final member of our leadership cadre.” Kalen mused to himself before tagging on the bottom of his newly tailored tunic and cleared his throat.
“Permission granted, inform the hangar to make room for a another fighter. I guess, lets get ready to set forth. Karracca, the Corra is yours, I’d like to have the ship take position on the starboard and to the rear of the Brightlight while we are maneuvering as a general policy, that way you can cover our hangars main launch doors.”
Karracca roared an affirmative reply, and gave a curt wave before leaving the bridge.
“Chief Dollan, can you also inform the hangar to prepare to launch the CAP fighters, and have them standby to make the jump to our first waypoint with us.” Kalen said, hoping he remembered the Chief name correctly.
“Zus, would you like to have the honor of taking us out?” Kalen turned to his fellow Plagueian.
The doors of the YZ-900 light freighter slid open with a hiss, but the lithe figure that emerged slunk down its ramp noiselessly. Though Katrila had arrived onboard the Brightlight the evening prior, she much preferred the luxury accommodations of her own ship to stowage on a military vessel. Even her robes testified to an insistence on refinement: claret accents of Ithorian moss-weave fabric featured just as much as the more functional the matte black design and Reflec coating, to mention nothing of their bespoke tailoring.
The Sith’s eyes passed over the deck crew, scrambling around in preparation for the maiden patrol of the Ascendancy Outreach Corps. Anti-piracy and presence patrol, the Summit had described the battleteam’s purpose at its commissioning. No doubt someone’s attempt to consolidate power in the wake of the Dread Lord’s exile. Not that Katrila could pass judgment—she, herself, had volunteered for service as one way to take advantage of the chaos and ingratiate herself further with House Tyranus.
“Ma’am,” said a junior officer, jolting the Togorian from her thoughts. “Commander Joss is expecting—“
“Of course he is,” Katrila interrupted, her voice a disarming low purr. The air between the officer and her seemed to still, ambient noise dampening as she bent the ripples of the Force against his mind in a simple assertion of terrifying presence. “Do inform the Commander his final advisor has arrived.”
She began to walk bridgeward, crew members instinctively giving her a wide berth. “Oh, and do have a cup of Felucian fungus tea sent to the bridge, will you?” she directed no one in particular, wrinkling her nose at the acrid scent of stale black coffee wafting from a tech’s mug. “Beadie, onboard the Katnip, can help you. The local swill is an affront to sentient life.”
A wicked grin threatened to split the humans face wide open.
“With pleasure, Captain.”
He removed his helmet as he turned to face the bridge, the crew and ship staff milling about unhurried.
“Alllll hands to stations!!”
Bellowed Zuser, his boots tromping forward into the suddenly startled crew.
“Come on, smartly now! Or else I’ll have you thrown out the airlock and take over your position myself!”
That caused the crew to move, various shouts, confirmations and affirmatives being called out as crew members of all species straightened up and started keying in commands into their respective consoles.
“Release mooring clamps!”
The ship shuddered slightly as the station released the Brightlight from docking. Zuser strode forward as Mouse and R series droids scurried around under foot. He briefly glanced at the entrance of the bridge, noticing Katrila making her way to join them before turning his attention back to the viewport.
“Helmsman! Bring us out of the station and set heading 2-1-0-0!”
“Aye sir! 2-1-0-0!”
As the Brightlight turned into the vastness of space, he strode forward.
“Take her away! All ahead, full!”
The Brightlight’s thrusters flared as the engines began firing, the blue energies propelling the ship through space. Zuser walked through the bridge, inspecting all consoles as he made his way back to Kalen. He slipped his Mandalorian helmet back onto his head, noticing Katrila making herself at home while being served some sort of steaming and odd smelling beverage.
“Well Kalen, this creaking tub is well underway. What course shall we set?”
“Prepare make the jump to the Gator system. A volcano erupted in the northern hemisphere of Gator II, wiped out a few towns, apparently there’s several thousand people that have been displaced and could use some help.” Kalen clasped his hands behind his back.
All the cargo holds on the ship were loaded chalk full of emergency rations, power packs, survival tents and various other humanitarian supplies. The Jedi Ranger was determined to make sure that the holds were empty when they returned to port.
Kalen turned to the black robed Katrila who was sipping from her mug.
“How full are the Katnips holds right now?” Kalen smiled and raised his eyebrows. Having owned one himself before acquiring the Corra VI, he knew the YZ-900s had plenty of cargo space. And until they sourced some shuttles or landing skiffs, it would be up to the Katnip and Corra to transport the supplies planetside when neccesary.
Katrila held her mug like it was an heirloom: two fingers on the handle, wrist relaxed, a position she could perform with a practiced ease after many, many sessions with a protocol droid. Her sort of elegance was more hard-won than natural; she had been raised by a clan on rural Togoria rather than a stately family on the likes of Naboo or Alderaan. However she came by it, that elegance certainly befit the exotic, mildly psychoactive blue brew she sipped from. One needed certain “altered perspectives” on long flights, even if the situation called for a lower dose than she preferred.
She watched over the rim of her cup as the command deck thrummed with motion in response to Zuser’s barked orders. The crew scurried this way and that, shouting to one another as if to instill confidence with volume. She could have ordered them to act more quietly and efficiently, but truth be told she had a soft spot for such theatrics in the same way some people had a soft spot for children: useful and entertaining, if somewhat indulgent and rarely essential.
The opening act, she thought as Kalen briefed the newly formed battleteam on the circumstances of its relief mission, the kind of thing that made the Ascendant Clan seem benevolent instead of ambitious. And that kind of story could turn myth into soft power.
“How full are the Katnip’s holds right now?” asked Kalen in a shift from briefing to logistical planning.
“You’re in luck, Commander. I just unloaded some sculptures that mysteriously disappeared from a Kiffar museum,” Katrila said, gingerly placing her mug on the command console. “That is to say, the holds are as empty as a Hutt’s charity fund. There’s plenty of room for your portable generators, water filtration systems, and high-calorie ration bars that will keep people alive long enough to complain about them.”
The Togorian paused, her eyes flicking to Zuser. The clawed fingertips of his cybernetic arm tapped at a navigation screen as he set course for Gator II. His presence felt jagged and reckless, like a sparking circuit. It made sense to her in a way Kalen’s didn’t; she hadn’t spent any real time around a Jedi.
As her gaze shifted back to the battleteam leader she took note of the scar on his arm. Clearly, he had seen battle. Yet his aura simmered with a steady warmth instead of the blazing intensity of the Dark Side. A certain unyielding calm about him betrayed a sense of optimism and selflessness. Did he buy into the whole good cop, smiling-face-of-Clan-Plagueis routine?
Despite the slight uneasiness her musings made her feel, she continued after a brief chirruping sound, her feline version of a throat clearing. “The Katnip is at your service. Tell me where you want her positioned…and how we can ensure to show some teeth behind the Clan’s smile.”
Kalen took a few step towards Katrila and lowered his voice below the din of the bridge
“We’ll show our teeth at the next stop on tour. The Pyke Syndicate distribution hub on the moons of Astrakar have been expanding and bringing in more of their spice to the region. And drug addicts don’t usually make for the most reliable allies. Ill have the deck crews start loading the supplies on the Katnip and Corra when we drop out of hyperspace.” Kalen said before taking a seat on his command chair. It would be comfortable enough after he worked his own butt groove.
The human turned from the console and faced the bridge again.
“Course set for Gator II. Helmsman, prepare for hyperspace jump and get us underway.”
“Aye Lord.”
As Zuser turned back to the table, the stars in the view port stretched and streaked away as the Brightlight shot into the void of space.
“Damned retched, spice-dealing scum… why can’t we deal with them first before we go on our mercy mission?”
The Obelisk Adherent sat down heavy in his chair, pulling his Mandalorian helmet off and setting it on the table. His s gaze locked on Kalen in an irritated glare, his clawed cybernetic hand drumming hard on the table with increasing intensity. His face was set in a barely suppressed scowl that threatened to bend his facial scar.
“The Banshee is ready and more than willing to sink her teeth into those spice dealers. Just say the word and I’ll drop some fire bombs on their supplies for good measure.”
“Well then, I suspect you won’t mind volunteering to lead the first wave then.” Kalen smiled. He was planning on sending in half of their squadron of A-Wings to knock out the hubs orbital defenses. But 6 A-Wings, plus a Firespray sounded even better.
The grin that threatened to split his face wide open was predatory and riddled with malicious intent.
“Kalen, it would be my genuine pleasure.”
He brought his left wrist up to his mouth as he reclined in the chair.
“Skull. Prep the Banshee for strafing runs, air-to-surface. And load the firebombs. We’re hunting spice dealers.”
“Yes sir, I’ll make sure Tatl and Tael don’t handle the firebombs and risk the Brightlight in a brilliant ball of fire.” The morose tone crackled through the comlink followed by the sound of a buzsaw whirring and a shriek. “Sir, one of the deck officers tried approaching the Banshee, again.”
“Thank you Skull.”
Zuser leveled a look of impatience at Kalen.
“If those technicians in the hangar keep trying to be brave enough to board or approach the Banshee without clearance, Chime is going to create incident report paperwork for you. I recommend they stop trying. The Banshee is in the capable hands of my droids.”
“Excellent, the jobs yours, and you’re a part of the command staff too, you can tell em yourself, but I will send out an official written order explaining it…uh, well then, lets prepare to deliver these supplies for now and why don’t we schedule a meeting to plan the strike against the Pykes tonight at, say, 1900h?” Kalen turned to the fresh faced petty officer who had been standing at parade rest near the rear of the command deck since he had arrived.
“You, petty officer, whats your job? Are you like, a part of our security detail or what?”
“Uh, I’ve been assigned as the Corps Clerk, milord. I am to assist with clerical work, filing of reports and info sharing as you see fit.” The young man replied after rigidly coming to the postion of attention.
“At ease man, and cut the milord stuff. THAT GOES FOR EVERYONE. Carrying a lightsaber and wielding the Force does not make me a Lord, or any other type of aristocrat. You all can refer to me as ‘Commander’ or ‘Sir’.”
Katrila nodded at Jalen as the stars stretched into luminous scars across the Brightlight’s viewport. His plan made sense; all objectives indeed didn’t need to be accomplished at every port of call. She began to settle into her chair, to sip her tea and watch the endless ribbons of light fold into themselves, when Zuser’s sparking circuit crackled to life once more.
She appreciated the pilot’s impulse to act, even the intentions that seemed to motivate him. Not cruelty, exactly, but motion for motion’s sake. Motion to fill the hollow where reasonable fear and restraint might have lived. Bomb the caches, break the distribution gangs, and move on. It was…efficient. Loud enough to distract from subtler games. Still, her ears flicked at the possible loss of opportunity—for herself, if not House Tyranus and Clan Plagueis.
“The Pyke Syndicate are industrious, if unimaginative, creatures. Kind of like mynocks, really,” said the Togorian. “They will, without fail, cling to the same sources of power. One fireworks show will make us feel briefly heroic, but then the galaxy goes right on selling spice as though nothing happened.”
Katrila rose and drifted toward the holoprojector, tail swaying behind her in an unhurried arc. Tapping at the controls as she spoke, she summoned several blue orbs: the Astrakar moons. Tendrils curved outward to nearby planets, representing shipping lanes. How many times had she stood at her own command deck detailing logistics like this to her own crew? There, her word was final. Here, she had to sell her plan.
“What the Pykes really fear is uncertainty and competition. A fledgling business, even one with addicted clients, can’t survive interrupted supply chains, price spikes, and rumors of internal theft.
“Here’s what I propose,” she continued, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone of purr-like rumbles rather than sibilant enunciation. “We take the shipment. Publicly, if you prefer, to burnish our ‘good cop’ image. But we don’t destroy it. We redistribute it: a portion to local law enforcement evidence rooms, another to medical researchers, just enough to clinics and syndicate rivals that will destabilize the market.”
She offered a conciliatory tilt of the head to the Obelisk, by now a heady brew of simmering aggression and trigger-happy excitement. “You still lead the first wave. Disable their defenses, blow up a few freighters, incite a dramatic firefight. Just don’t vaporize the cargo.”
Next her eyes met Kalen’s. “You get your goodwill. The public sees us cracking down on spice and controlling the lawless elements. And I,” she shrugged. “I get a portion of the spice to take far, far away. You know, compensation for my crew, reputational risk, and all that.”
Katrila smiled, almost breathless after the pitch. She eyed her teammates as she sank back into the chair.
Zuser’s clawed hand paused mid-drum as Katrila pitched her alternative idea for the Pykes, his glare switching to her with a hint of incomprehension.
“Why would we want to redistribute it? Spice distribution is a life altering disease and process for the distributees. Spice addiction ruins lives, and not just the addicted ones.”
He turned his head back to Kalen.
“I say we destroy the whole facility and a surrounding perimeter for good measure.”
“The whole facility COMPLEX will be destroyed, that’s our mission. As for the redistribution of any salvagable goods or gear…we’ll figure that part out when we get there.” Kalen tried to project a sense of calm and resoluteness, when in reality his mind was racing, he had the laundry business, the peach orchard, a new house and home on Aliso, and this daunting new job.
Sure he had commanded an undermanned and ancient Dreadnaught, sure he had led a few missions here and there, even commanded a peace time patrol of 5 Gozanti’s, part time. But thisnwas different, he had a fleet, a defined, wide scope mandate, and command, true command. What he was lacking currently was griunder pounders and auxiliary vessels. He had the Bright Light as a true frigate class capital ships, 2 quasi corvette in the Corra and Katnip. Force landing parties and surface action, he had a single Special Mission Platoon, and a boarding party detachment from the Bright Lights crew that trained part time and number less then 2 dozen.
His staff so far seemed like the sort of balance between discipline military bearing and precision in Zuser and the insightful, contemplative, though morality ambiguous counsel Katrila had just provided him.
After hanging out working on seats required butt groove Kalen realized he hadn’t even seen his quarters aboard his new ‘flagship’.
“Petty Officer. Have I been assigned quarters onboard?”
“Yes sir. Deck 3. Take one of the lifts down and the Captain’s quarters are to the right.” The Corps Clerk replied.
Kalen stood, realizing he hadn’t sleep in nearly 20 hours and he still had 4 hours before the meeting. “Alright, I’m going to go get settled in. You 2 got things up here. See you both at 1900.”
Zuser was about to respond with an affirmative when his wrist comlink went off.
“Skull, report.”
“Sir, theres been a development. A human female identified as Taranae Rhode is currently engaging in, and I quote, ‘ritual combat’ with Chime. She keeps saying she wants to ‘poke around Stumpy’s ship’.”
The Obelisk Adherent inhaled deeply and exhale through his nostrils.
“I’ll be right there. Don’t let Tatl or Tael get involved if they haven’t already.”
There was a pause before the K-series droid responded.
“They already have, sir.”
“Fierfek.” Swore the pilot. Without another word, Zuser launched himself out of his seat, donning his helmet as he strode off the bridge to the turbolift.
-=+=-
Taking a little longer than he would have liked, Zuser came to find a crowd surrounding the Banshee. He growled and shouted an order.
“As you were! Make yourselves scarce before I throw you out the airlock!”
The crowds scattered, unveiling Taranae Rhode engaged in a limb lock with Chime. Tatl had managed to get itself onto her back in an attempt to suplex her. Tael was clinging to her left leg, also trying to suplex her.
Skull looked over at Zuser, lifting its long forearms in a ‘what was I supposed to do’ gesture.
The Obelisk adherent pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand as he addressed the dueling pair.
“Chime, Tatl, Tael, back to the Banshee. Taranae, why are you wrestling with my droids.”
Taranae paused mid limb twist as she stared at the Obelisk. “He started it!”, she whined. “He said I docked in the wrong bay!” She slapped the droid and stood up, shrugging her shoulders to dislodge the second from her back. Her exertion showed as her red hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. “Anyways, glad you stopped me or I would have made scrap outta them.” She dusted herself off and stared at her feet as she muttered, “Am i in trouble again?”
Zuser sighed as the droids tottered off back into the Banshee.
“No, not that I’m aware of. Come with me, I’ll fill you in on our missions.”
The Obelisk Adherent stood to side, metal arm gestured towards the turbolift as red haired psychopath walked past him to their destination.
*Conference Room 1, *Bright Light **
The 4 Tyrants aswell as the A-Wing Sqn leader and the 1Lt who was in charge of the reinforced SM Platoon were all present and they were well into the planning of the assault on the Pyke complex.
“I think we can prolly handle the 50 some odd Pykes that we think are planetside…but yeah dont have any manpower to spare for the orbital installation. Just blowing it out of the sky would be my reccomendation aswell, milords.
Kalen let the ‘milord’ thing slide. Coruscant wasn’t built in a single lifetime after all, and he wasn’t going to single handedly change the deeply engrained fuedal nature of the Plagueian culture oversight, nor did he want to.
"Agreed. Anyone you having anything to add?” The Jedi asked.
Zuser’s clawed hand drummed on the table again, excitement at firebombing an entire perimeter out of existence causing the metal clawed phalanges to drum faster. His Mandalorian helmet, painted sandstone brown with blue marks on the left side of the forehead, sat on the table next to him.
“Skull is making sure the Banshee is loaded to the brim with explosives and firebombs. I can lead a squad in bombing and strafing runs. Now, for rules of engagement, I say no one escapes the perimeter. Anyone who decides to play hero and run into the carnage forfeit their lives.”
He swept his hateful eyes at the others before landing on Kalen.
“This should be a clear cut message to all dealers and other Pyke sects. Normally I’d say we blow the perimeter from orbit with the Brightlight’s weapons systems but that’s no fun and it’s not sporty.”
“Their main facility at the complex we’re striking is also shielded…that why we need yiu and some of the A-Wings to hit that geni hard and fast. I’ll send the Corra to take out the transit yard on the other moon. But after you drop that shield, fire bombs away, there’s no reason to suspect that their any innocents dependants or civilians there.” Kalen replied. He looked around and saw no further questions or comments.
“Alright, let’s drop these supplies and then head to the staging location for the hit on the Pyke. We will be coordinating our strike to be simultaneous with several other Brotherhood operations around the Galaxy, so we’ll go at precisely 0330h…dismissed.”
*Bridge, *Bright Light **
Kalen watched as the Corra reorbited and headed back to the formation. At the request of local government he had sent a few flights of A-Wings to perform celebratory fly-overs at an outdoor music festival in the southern hills, and a large spotting even in their capital city. The squadrons munitions chief had also had time to load each of the craft with training munitions that also doubled as fire works.
“Any word from the Katnip?” He asked the comms officer.
“Not yet Commander.”
“They did have more then double the cargo, its probably just taking longer to unload.” Zuser replied.
“The Corra is requesting permission to dock sir. And one of the A-Wing flights has signaled they’re finished their flyover and are on their way back.” The officer interjected.
“Acknowledge the message from the fighters, clear them to land, and have the Corra dock at the starboard airlock please, Lt.” Kalen nodded to the young man and turned back his unofficial 2IC.
“Tomorrow, we hit the Pyke’s. I’d like to have our spec ops Platoon raid the 3rd facility at the complex. The actual shipping dock that s context to the main facility by that long tunnel. Might be some ships, some currency, and useful intel there.”
“Probably some spice too.” Taranae purred from the other chair on the command deck.
Kalen paused and then just continued. There probably would be a bunch of spice there.
“After your initial strike and fire bombing on the main facility, I’d like you to escort the platoons landers in and command the ground element, if you’re up for it.” He asked Zuser.
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“You all clear on you’re target?” Kalen turned to Taranae.
“At precisely 0330h I blow there comms relay near the edge of the system then come back and help you all comb through the ash and sphrapnel, aye boss.”
“If everything goes to plan, sounds about right.” The Jedi smiled and nodded, disregarded Taranae light sarcasm.
The grin that split the Obelisk’s face was predatory.
“With pleasure. I’ll have Skull take over the Banshee after the bombing run and escort. Speaking of which, the Banshee is fully stocked and loaded. We’re ready to go as soon as you give the order.”
Zuser’s offer prompted an idea in Kalen.
“Hmmm, how about this then?” The Jedi pulled up a holo representation of the target system.
“We’re about to make our final jump into the system, should be a 4 hour flight through Hyperspace. Why don’t you and the other 4 A-Wings in the initial strike package get ready and launch before we make the jump. And then you can drop out of Hyperspace, around here.” He pointed to area of open space deeper inside the system that would give them an even shorter run in to the target.
“The rest of the Corps will drop out here, and deploy to the various targets.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. I’ll prepare to launch now sir.” He stood from his chair.
“Communications, please have the hangar inform Alpha Flight to prepare to launch in 15 minutes.”
“Aye sir.” One of the communication techs responsible for internal comms replied from his well. The bridge of the Bright Light had a simple and ergonomic layout, with the 3 chairs, and planning table of the command deck at the rear and raised up. Infront of that 3 wells, each filled with consoles manned by the respective departments watchstanders. From left to right, in a semi circle we the weapons, navigation, and communications wells. Around the perimeter at the front of the bridge were single consoles dedicated to various other ships systems, such as scanners, damage control, engineering amd security.
Air Space above Gator II The formation of A-Wings descended through the atmosphere, lead by the sandy-brown hull of the Banshee, its flight announced by an unnatural scream.
Zuser was proud of this effect. He had carefully sabotaged the engine muffler, the hull vibration sensors and the shield harmonics. After that, he had installed small fin-like attachments on the forward hull playing that flanked the cockpit. These fins were small, thin, vertical blades with just enough of a curve to catch the air and cause a demonic screaming sound as the Banshee flew in front of the 4 A-Wings, each one having a similar sound effect preceding their trajectory. The Obelisk Adherent had taken the liberty of installing similar instruments to to the 4 A-Wings, much to the voiced consternation of the hangar crew aboard the Brightlight.
“All units, report in. Check your systems prepare for air-to-surface strafing runs.”
All four of the pilots voiced their confirmations and tightened up their formation to a proper V. Skull sat in the co-pilot seat and wordlessly made minor adjustments with switches and buttons. In the hold, Chime, Tatl and Tael sat in special berths in their standby positions.
“Coming up on the facility perimeter, Sir. Targeting the primary shield generator now. Let’s just hope they didn’t think to install AA turrets…”, droned the K-series droid.
“It wouldn’t matter if they did, Skull. That’s why we have a back up pincer formation for that exact probability. Plus I think their definition of power has granted them a hubris complex denser than Beskar. They think they’re untouchable because of their name. We’re here to inform them otherwise, with prejudice. Oto’yodo, this is going to be fun.”
*Bridge, *Bright Light **
“Signal coming from Taranae sir. Comm Relay is down.”
“Corra is signalling their target is destroyed aswell. The signal is coming in in binary, and quite crash binary at that sir.” Another comms tech added.
“Yeah that would be the first mate, Reece. He can get quite vulgar over comms. Acknowledge the signals, have them proceed to the rendevous.” Kalen replied as stood at the planning table looking out over the rest of the bridge. The small speck in the middle of the viewport slowly grew as they approached the target planet that Zuser and the A-Wings were now attacking.
After another few moments, the first comms tech reported, “Comm from the Banshee, they report no significant defenses have been encountered so far. They are commencing their run on the shield generator.”
“Excellent. Signal all gun crew to prepare to fire when we enter orbit. Have the landers prepare to launch.” The Jedi Corps Commander ordered. He knew they’d have to be fast in securing the docking bay area of the facility before the Pykes began destroying any loot.
** Banshee ** Pyke Syndicate Distribution Base
The scream of the modified Firespray accompanied the rapid-fire bursts of super-heated red death that ripped through the motionless defenses.
The Obelisk muttered something in Jawanese as he scanned the structure before opening comms to the A-Wing squad.
“Squad, prepare to loop around and target the shield generator, full firepower.”
Skull turned his head to another panel.
“…Sir?”
“What?”
“We may want to hurry this up. Miss Taranae is accelerating her approach speed.”
Zuser muttered several curses in Jawanese before going back to comms.
“Alright brace yourselves, we’re changing targets now. Break formation and target the generator, NOW.”
The squad split apart like a haphazard geometric shape, the A-Wings flipping and spinning around at near-impossible speeds while the Banshee flipped upside down and righted itself in an Immelmann maneuver.
“If you have the target in your sights, open fire! Open fire now!”
The 5 ships began loosing streams of blaster-fire, punching and rupturing holes in the shield generator before it exploded, shrapnel bouncing off the hulls of the 5 ships and scattering debris across the ground.
Zuser could almost hear the cackling from Taranae’s TIE Fighter as it blitzed by, green blaster-fire ripping through the Pyke’s comms array, rendering it useless.
Skull’s yellow photo receptors ‘blinked’ as the array dish smashed to the ground.
“Miss Taranae must have gotten bored.”
“Oto’yodo! Can’t be helped!”
The human shrugged and stood up from his pilot seat, grabbing his Mandalorian helmet and placing it on his head. Skull ‘blinked’ again.
“Sir? Where are you going?”
Zuser keyed the panel to open the door, currently cruising above a parapet.
“I’m going hunting! It’s Pyke Season!”
The Obelisk laughed like a mad scientist, dropping through the ship and out the landing ramp. Upon landing on the parapet, he used the Force to amplify his leap from the wall to the center of a chaotic scene of shouting as Pyke Syndicate members scrambled for weapons. He slowly raised himself to his full height and unclipped his double blade lightsaber from his belt and the cross guard lightsaber from his shoulder harness, unstable green blades igniting.
“Trigida!! Who wants to die first?!”
By the time the 2 landers carrying the SM Platoon touched down inside the Pyke hangar bay, Zuser had delat with over a dozen of the Pykes and their security droids. His green lightsabers were unmistakable at the far end of the Hangar, leaping, smashing and twirling in a parade of death and destruction.
The special operators from the Ascendant Legions 2nd Regiment helped mop up the remaining defenses and squad immediately began to secure any assets and start the site exploitation.
“Those might come in handy for the Bright Light. Go secure those up armoured star commuters.” An observant Sergeant said to his fire team.
Less then an hour later the operation was completed and all the vessels had returned to orbit and rendevoused with the Bright Light. In all, they had destroyed all 5 targets in the system, killed a confirmed 58 Pyke operatives, destroyed a similar number of their droids, and had seized several dozen tons of cargo and equipment along with 2 up-armoured Star Commuter shuttles.
The whole squadron then swiftly made the jump to Hyperspace and on to their next target.
The Phuubaar System
As it turned out the penultimate target on their first deployment was to be their first joint operation with their sister Houses team the ‘Hidden Blades’. So far, the timing was working out perfectly. The Corps was traveling past the system, just as their compatriots began a pirate style raid to try and steal a bunch energy supplies from an ground based power station on the planet’s surface.
It had been carefully planned to help influence the colony there to be forced to become reliant on Hyperdynes energy subsidiary in the short term, and the interdiction of the pirates by a patrol from the friendly and magnanimous Confederacy of Outer Planets would hopefully entice them to consider joining at some point.
“Distress call coming in from the colony on Phuubaar 3 sirs.” A comm tech said from his console well.
“Right on schedule.” Kalen said to Zuser.
“Indeed boss. Inform the rest of the squadron to drop out of Hyperspace and make the calculations to jump into the Phuubaar system.” The 2IC ordered.
The mad pilot turned from the table to face the bridge.
“Alright! You heard em! Prepare to drop out of hyper speed on my command! I want our relief ships and armed escorts ready to spin up and go planet side as soon as we are in orbit!”
Zuser placed his Mandalorian helmet back on his head.
“Bring us out of hyperspace!”
The blue tunnel that encased the Brightlight streaked away and dropped it into normal space.
“All ahead full! Get us in orbit and ready to assist!”
As was planned the ‘pirates’ had arrived and begun their raid on the colonies energy plants and storage facilities when the ‘saviors’ arrived. The Hidden Blades had already landed troops dressed up as mercs and were busy looting the colonies energy supplies.
The Corps’ A-Wings had been purposefully given the callsigns of Angels One through Twelve and were currently filing the local channels with heroic sounding comms traffic. They were currently busy scaring off the Fang fighters that the pirate corsair vessel had disgorged from his bays, while the Bright Light had taken up a position in low planetary orbit above the pirates flagship.
“Ion cannons only against the Corsair weapons officer. Near misses only with our turbolasers.” Kalen paced back a forth. He wasn’t fond of firing on his comrades, even if it was just for show.
“The targets appearing to move off of the target sir. Looks like they’ve recovered their shuttles and assualt ships.” The scanner officer called out a few moments later.
“Turbolaser batteries cease fire.” The weapons officer said into his headset on queue, to avoid hitting the ‘fleeing’ pirates. But alas it was too late, Kalen and Zuser Katrila and Taranae watched on as one of the dual bolts from their starboard turbolaser battery slammed into the up hull of the pirate corsair right next to one of open gunnels near the edge of its upper deck. The open gunwhale had been manned by 2 unfortunate former prisoners from Helot maximum security prison on the moon of Aliso. The Hidden Blades having paroled some inmates specifically for use as gunners on their ship.
“Sithspawn. Have our fighters chase them out of the system, and we will meet them at the rendevous point.”
Kalen turned and gave a grave look at Zuser. This is exactly what he had been worried about.
“I’ll go down on the Corra and meet with locals. Have the Katnip loaded with those portable coaxium generators. When I call from the surface, have them delivered to the power plant.”
A growl of irritation came from Zuser’s helmet before he shot out his right arm at the unsuspecting officer in charge of the turbo laser banks.
A sudden red flash and the officer was slumped over the console, dead. The forearm-mounted blaster barrel steamed as Zuser dropped his arm, muttering harshly in Jawanese.
He turned his head to another officer, whose trousers were close to becoming wet.
“Get this trash off this ship. And find me the nerf herders who kept firing.”
((An hour later))
It had only taken Kalen and Karracca a mere 35 minutes to accept the gracious thanks of the colonies leaders, and also arrange a preliminary deal to have Hyperdynes energy subsidiary provide coaxium and other fuel supplies to the colony since their power plant had just been raided.
Kalen lifted his commlink to his mouth, “Corra to Bright Light. We’re on our way back up. Prepare to depart the system when our birds all return to the nest.”
“Acknowledged mm…sir.” the comms tech caught himself, not being fond of the idea having his CO forcechoke him.