Before - Legends Operation Windstorm [SWTOR]

Title: Operation Windstorm
Author: Mechalich
Timeframe: 3630 BBY
Characters: Che'nash, Tessa Pardax, OCs
Genre: Science Fiction, Adventure
Keywords: Zakuul, Eternal Alliance, Gas Giant, Geranite, Star Fortress
Summary: Operative Che'nash discovers a hidden civilization and struggles to aid them against the brutal Star Fortresses of Zakuul.
Notes: For those familiar with the plot of SWTOR, this story begins chronologically in sync with KotFE Chapter XI.

Operation Windstorm

I. High Orbit over Dantooine – 3630 BBY

Che'nash pressed the maintenance panel back into place. The wall creaked and crackled at the contact, stresses induced by even the modest force this action applied. The sound resonated through the wall, floor, and outward to the hull plating. Every motion expressed the shuttle's age. Too many long journeys. Too many hard maneuvers through nasty blockades. Too many refugees crammed in up to the very edge of the mass tolerance.

Five very hard, long years for the little craft.

This day, as most days now, she wondered how many runs the shuttle had left. She suspected she'd find out the day the hyperdrive failed and an Eternal Fleet warship blasted her from the black. A decidedly morbid prospect, one she'd give much to allay, but there was no money, not even close, for a new ship.

Running refugees made barely enough to keep this one fueled.

A miserable business overall, grabbing bodies off worlds under Star Fortress guns or ruined by battle and hauling them to the few safe havens that remained. Most of those who escaped were looking at prospects minimally better in their new homes. Those who avoided sale into slavery outright were usually shackled to crushing debts, and all sold every asset they could carry to pay the carrier. Che'nash hated the expressions she saw when they handed over ancient heirlooms to pay her fee, but she took them all the same. Merchants were still paying for history and culture, for now.

She tried to keep her fees low, treat the refugees as fairly as she could, but some costs could not be defrayed. Fuel, parts, her survival gear, some payments had to be made, no matter what. The Republic could proclaim freedom the right of every sentient being all they liked, the truth was that freedom cost credits just as much as everything else. She was not so far from destitute herself, might well have been had the shuttle been a purchased asset rather than an inherited one, and it was now one major part failure from the scrap heap.

That would be the end of her freedom. She'd have to hire out to any infantry unit that would take her, completely subordinate to a new commander.

Utterly unacceptable.

So long as she kept on going, kept operating, entered new missions in the log no matter how small scale, then the company lived. Someday the fortunes of war would change. She clung desperately to that belief. When it did, when the color of the sky shifted at last, she'd find a new contract, one with a deep-pocketed patron, and seize the chance to rebuild.

As it happened, that day had already arrived. Halfway across the galaxy, at a place called Asylum, there was a battle. A great comet slammed into the gas clouds of galactic civilization. The waves unleashed were just now making the long journey to Dantooine.

The last active member of the Shrikaansi Reconnaissance Company, Che'nash controlled exclusive access to the secure HoloNet accounts the company acquired decades earlier. That included the Dromund Kaas address, tied to the Empire's communications network and still outside of Zakuul's control, probably. Unexpectedly, while she worked her way through the maintenance checklist in preparation for another refugee run, she heard the distinctive ping of an email dropped into the inbox.

Any veteran mercenary knows that messages in their business are often incredibly time-sensitive. The hydrospanner in her hand clanged against the deck as she dropped it and ran for the cockpit. She slapped the display console in acknowledgment, hard as she could so that the image would focus properly, and stared.

Her first move, as always, was to check the sender's ID. The moment it resolved, her eyes widened. Commodore Tessa Pardax, the Iron Calculator herself, had contacted the company. That was a big name, which was rare enough. Far more unusual, it was one attached to fond memories. The company had worked under her years ago, before the Imperial bigwigs shackled her to desk duty. She was one of the rare Imperial officers who understood that reconnaissance was not a synonym for vanguard.

Quickly but carefully, Che'nash devoured the message.

A contact. Praise the Sky Seraphs! Of course, even amid jubilation she was not unwise to the imperfections. The Commodore appeared unaware of the company's extremely depleted state. Worse, she was making a long-term offer while being decidely vague on the details. The contract wasn't Imperial, Republic, or GSI. Those all used standard formats Che'nash could recognize. This thing was bespoke, like the lure a Hutt might put out, minus the nebula-sized arrogance. The Commodore claimed she was recruiting on behalf of something called the Alliance, and that she was working under the Outlander.

That title was unmistakable. Absolutely everyone knew of the one who'd killed Valkorion. Che'nash, plugged into the galaxy-wide spaceport rumor-mill, had heard that supposedly someone had managed to bust them out of a carbonite bust.

She hadn't believed that, until now. The Iron Calculator never joked, and she didn't repeat hearsay. If Tessa Pardax said she worked for the Outlander, then she'd actually met them and could confirm their freedom. That was massive news, but also a problem. The objective laid out in the contract might be vague, but joining up with the Outlander meant only one possible strategy: fight Zakuul.

Che'nash sat down in the pilot's chair. This time she didn't hear the creaking at all.

Did she want to fight Zakuul? Of course. She hated them and their Eternal Empire. The company had taken losses, even heavy ones sometimes, fighting for the Sith, but they'd always made enough to recoup them until Zakuul arrived. Three months, three battles, that was all it took. All the officers were dead or captured – which was much the same since it simply meant death in Zakuul's arenas – and over eighty percent of non-coms and grunts killed or deserted. She, as the senior surviving specialist, took the last functional squad and their one remaining shuttle and switched over to running refugees in the hope of carrying on.

Five years later she was the only one still going.

Fighting back sounded great, and while Pardax wasn't offering riches, the pay rate made market standards. If she could prove herself, recruits would surely follow. From there it was a short path to restoring the company as a real fighting unit, with herself as an officer. A great story for the logbook.

Only one problem made her hesitate. It felt like an utterly hopeless endeavor. Sure, someone managed to break the Outlander out of prison, but how long could they really stay ahead of Zakuul's armies? Five years was a long time. The Empire, the Republic, even the Hutts had all launched schemes, big ones, to try and break free from Zakuul's yoke. Every one of them failed. The Eternal Fleet was too powerful. The Skytroopers were too limitless.

Worse, Arcann didn't respect mercenary contracts or the laws of war. Che'nash knew that perfectly, had seen it firsthand. If she joined this Alliance, and they failed, there would be no escape, no surrender. It would be the end of her, and of Shrikaansi.

The shuttle creaked again, this time loud enough to disrupt her reverie.

Jolted, Che'nash chuckled slightly. One operative and a collapsing shuttle. If that wasn't the end already, what was? Better, she supposed, to die fighting than in a shuttle crash or hyperspace accident. That way at least the final entry in the log would be a worthy one.

A small thing, but enough to push past her doubts.

Tessa Pardax's instructions dispatched her to a distant deep space relay. The actual base coordinates would only follow, smartly, following proof of commitment. Che'nash felt no hesitation as she laid in the course.

It was time to go back to war.

Notes
Che'nash is a canon character, albeit a small one. She is an Imperial quest giver on Ilum in SWTOR, and provides the player with the mission 'Operation Shatterstorm.' She has merely a handful of lines, and her face is completely obscured by her armor, but key elements of her character are established. Among these is that she is a mercenary working as part of the Shrikaansi Reconnaissance Company. Another is that she is a Geranite, which is responsible for the reference to the Sky Seraphs, entities worshiped by Doallyn, the only other Geranite in canon.

This story begins in 3630 BBY, making it concurrent with the second half of the Knights of the Fallen Empire expansion of SWTOR. Specifically, Che'nash is contacted shortly after the Alliance is established on Odessen but before they've recorded any major victories, so between Chapters X-XII.

Commodore Tessa Pardax is a canonical member of the Alliance, though she only appears if the Commander aligns the Alliance with the Empire post-Iokath, prompting Admiral Aygo to retire. However, it seems logical she was serving with the Alliance from a much earlier date, therefore she appears here. She is referred to as 'calculating' in her Codex entry and I have chosen to use this as inspiration for a more colorful nickname.

I have chosen to refer to the Outlander/Alliance Commander using singular they throughout this story, since details of who the character was exactly are unknown. However, the canonical convention used on Wookieepedia was that they were a Republic hero true to the light side, and I intend to maintain this, in part because it means that Che'nash has not previously met them.

 

II. Alliance Headquarters, Odessen – 3630 BBY

“I report to Admiral Aygo, who reports directly to the Commander,” Commodore Pardax had, essentially, a single tone of voice regardless of circumstances. No-nonsense, perfectly level, utterly without empathy, as if she was constantly reading off a report rather than making conversation. “For now, I’ve assigned you to report to Lieutenant Marklo as part of the Star Fortress Task Force. That is subject to change at any time, as this organization and its operational needs are evolving rapidly. Any questions?”

Che’nash considered what she might ask, knowing full well that the commodore did not suffer fools. The base, seemingly materialized from nothing by the shear willpower of Lana Beniko, was impressive. Though still mostly empty, and hosting troops of divided allegiance who appeared ready to fight each other almost as much as Zakuul, it had vast potential and an excellent defensive position. The internal glaring and posturing probably shocked the Republic volunteers, but to the mercenary was little different from the norm regarding Imperial joint operations.

Star Fortresses, that assignment provoked numerous possibilities. Those things were dangerous, able to shred whole planets virtually at will, but a necessary target. There was no way to win a war against an enemy who could lock down every strategically important planet in the galaxy on a whim. She had no complaints regarding that recon assignment. Instead, she chose to put the company first. “Is solo operation, or is recruitment permissible?”

“For now, everyone’s loyalty must be to the Alliance first.” If the commodore was angered by this suggestion of divided allegiance, it did not show in her expression. “However, leadership is currently top heavy, as we expand numerous mid-level officer positions will inevitably open up. Perform well and promotion will follow. Assuming we ultimately succeed, your subordinates will have a chance to join you when the Alliance dissolves.”

“Understood, will work hard.” Victory, if at all possible, seemed an extremely distant prospect, the work of many years, but the commodore’s offer represented a good dream to keep in her heart. “My shuttle is heavily damaged. Will need repairs to sustain long-range operations.”

“That effort is underway. We’re short ships at the moment, but have sufficient spare parts to restore standard models to factory spec.” The commodore concluded. “Stow your effects and report to Lieutenant Marklo for orders, operative. Dismissed.”

The locker one of the protocol droids directed Che’nash to claim as her own was tiny, and the allotted bunk space terribly cramped. The sound of active drilling from down the hall indicated new housing was in the process of being carved out of the cliff face. She did not complain at this, but simply stuffed her backup armor and weapons in the locker for storage. The idea of sleeping anywhere but inside her sealed shuttle bunk never occurred to her. Nowhere else was suited to pressurize a proper Geran atmosphere, and she refused to sleep in her armor on base. That requirement meant she was on hazardous duty, at minimum. If anyone objected, she’d invite them to try breathing air with trace levels of hydron-3.

It was not a quick death for most species.

Lieutenant Marklo, a tall human with a notable facial scar, was easy to find. The white armor helped, as usual. Republic heavies were generally easy to spot, most days. Che’nash, staring at the polished brightness, had to remind herself not to underestimate these soldiers because of that. They were tough, and though generally less cunning than imperials, they made up for it by fighting harder.

“Operative Che’nash, Shrikaansi Reconnaissance Company,” she threw out a quick salute, Imperial-style. “Reporting as ordered.”

“Right,” the lieutenant acknowledged, returning his own salute, Republic-style, without appearing offended. “Heard you were coming. You’ve been briefed on the Star Fortress problem?”

“Am aware,” she clenched her teeth in response. “Have seen close and seen used. Pulled refugees off Bothawui. All suffered much.”

“That’s right, they’re a big problem. The Commander’s made it a priority mission.” Marklo spoke Basic, but he seemed to have no problem understanding Huttese. Che’nash knew she struggled to properly articulate the language. Her vocal cords lacked the length necessary to form certain rumbling, slurry support sounds. She’d gotten over the shame of that many years ago, but it did make some conversations frustrating. “They’re working with Theron Shan, trying to find an assault option,” Marklo continued, slightly more upbeat. “Figure those two can solve any puzzle.”

Theron Shan was a known commodity, an elite SIS agent identified in all major imperial databases as one of the best in the service. As to the Commander, Che’nash had glimpsed them only briefly, from a distance, during the briefing tour, but the presence they possessed, the shear overwhelming personal authority and puissance, was unmistakable. She’d encountered Darth Malgus once, during an all-hands briefing on Ilum, and could recall the intensity even years later. Compared to the Commander, even that legendary Sith was merely a little iceberg beside the great glacier.

She would be quite happy to keep the admiral and the commodore between her and that one.

“I have assignment?” she asked, wondering exactly how the Alliance intended her to serve.

“Yep, got a whole slate for you,” Marklo nodded, pulled back from the momentary awe of hero worship. “Right now, even if, when, we figure out how to bring down the Fortresses, we don’t have a proper target list. We don’t even know how many the Eternal Empire has, or where they all are. Dozens are confirmed, but there may be hundreds, since they can block communications and Zakuul’s got trade strangled. I’ve got a list of suspects, based on rumor, unconfirmed sightings, and number-cruncher projections.” He pulled out a datapad and raised it to transmit. “Get out there and confirm presence/absence and follow up on any other Fortresses you hear about. We need to know exactly what we’re up against.”

“I can accomplish this,” it sounded good, this mission. Classical, solid recon work. Nothing she couldn’t handle, while still being important enough to receive recognition. “Will depart as soon as repairs are complete.”

“Good luck out there operative,” Marklo’s enthusiasm was somewhat crude, but still welcome. Always good to have officers who believed in the cause.

Shuttle repairs went quick. Aygo had stolen a bunch of the galaxy’s best techs off of Kuat, and for the moment they had more hands than ships. Though the Alliance had a number of starfighters, shuttles, and armed transports, it possessed only one capital ship; the oddly named Gravestone, a vessel resembling nothing Che’nash had ever seen. That ship, occupied by a highly eccentric crew – practically pirates – and commanded by a Zakuulan defector, refused to let anyone else so much as apply paint. Though this was decidedly strange, it freed up resources for everyone else.

Che’nash was off Odessen in under twenty-four hours, her shuttle looking and running as if it had just come off the assembly line.


Notes
Lieutenant Marklo is a canon character, who is found on Odessen and serves as the Star Fortress quest giver.

The precise number of Star Fortresses is not known. In game, the Commander destroys exactly six, but there must be others, including the one over Bothawui that is mentioned but never encountered. Theron Shan claims in-game that there are possibly hundreds, and they keep some worlds completely out of contact, which has been sustained here. However, the other Fortresses are presumed to have been destroyed or at least removed from Zakuul’s control by the time of the Empire’s defeat, as indicated by the attempt to build a new one in the Uprising ‘Landing Party.’ This story explores the unexplained fate of those Fortresses the commander did not handle personally.

Che’nash, as a Geranite, requires access to a special gas, Hydron-3, in order to breathe. Consequently, in human-standard environments she cannot take her helmet off.

In the handful of lines given to Che’nash on Ilum, she speaks Huttese with slightly broken syntax, occasionally dropping articles, pronouns, and helping verbs. I have chosen to implement this not as inexperience with the language or a mental speech difficulty, but a physical impediment. She clearly understands Basic, which the imperial player speaks to her, fluently. This convention, of Basic and Huttese speakers using their own languages in perfectly understandable conversation, is common in SWTOR.

 

III. High Orbit over Arkanis – 3630 BBY

It did not take long for Che’nash to discover that, while Zakuul placed some of its Star Fortresses based on no reason she could grasp – which probably meant something Force-related – most occupied locations based on very clear criteria linked to hyperspace geography and strategic value. The bulky bulwarks dotted the major hyperlanes like a string of menacing beads, especially in the southern half of the galaxy. It seemed Arcann didn’t want anyone getting even close to Zakuul, in the far southwest, without him knowing. At least, not with a fleet; the Star Fortresses almost totally ignored anything below corvette size.

She confirmed fortresses at Kaal, Kinyen, and Yag’Dhul on the Corellian Trade Spine. At Triton, Sullust, and Wroona on the Rimma Trade Route. At Atravis, Eriadu, and Malastare on the Hydian Way, and at Gamor, Druckenwell, and Christophsis on the Corellian Run, with more to come. She hadn’t looped down into the Core yet, fearing that such a move would get her tracked by that region’s significantly more attentive traffic controllers. Instead, she continued down the Corellian Run past Christophsis. She assumed Ryloth had a fortress hovering over it. Ignoring the Twi’lek homeworld would be a ridiculous oversight, and rumor made it clear that Zakuul wasn’t that stupid, but confirmation still mattered. She intended to turn about there and check Rodia on the way back, since the same principle applied.

The Star Fortress at Arkanis popped onto her sensors unexpectedly. Certainly, the planet occupied a strategic position, and it was a modestly prosperous place with a number of subordinate worlds, but she’d never thought it a place of any real importance. She had to reread the public summary of the system on the Holonet to recall any details about the place. This only confirmed that it was exactly as bland as expected, and neither SIS nor Imperial Intelligence data dumps – the Alliance had access to both databases somehow, if not completely up to date – contradicted that assessment. She supposed that she owed Theron Shan a drink for generously allowing her access to that resource.

It was a different source – the assembly of rumors, black market speculation, mercenary contracts, and dubious auctions compiled by Hylo Visz’s contacts – that revealed the truth. The Exchange had a controlling interest in the Arkanis Spaceport Authority and used that influence to turn the planet into the primary arms supply point for several major mercenary groups. Che’nash recognized those names without any trouble. Sensible of Zakuul to clamp down hard on that action. Unarmed mercenaries couldn’t wreak much havoc, a status she knew and lamented personally.

Mystery solved; she settled in for a standard long-range flyby. Just close enough for the shuttle’s sensors to get a good look without provoking the fortress to launch a wing of fighter droids. She’d watched some Sullustans tangle with those things a few days earlier. The result wasn’t pretty. The droids seemed to be short range, restricted by either fuel or control to the immediate vicinity of the fortress, but they were just as overwhelmingly powerful as every other Zakuul weapons system.

Unfortunately, all long-range scans could really tell was that every Star Fortress looked exactly the same from the outside. If anything, they were notable only by this seemingly perfect interchangeability. Che’nash had witnessed fleet actions before, including the big one over Ilum, and she’d learned that every capital ship in the Imperial and Republic fleets was slightly different, even those of the same class. They possessed tiny quirks traceable to shipyard style, or small materials substitutions, or the engineering preferences of difference species directing the physical labor. Zakuul, somehow, didn’t build that way. Despite their gigantic size, the Star Fortresses were as identical as droids run off an automated assembly line.

Terrifyingly, she wondered if that was somehow the truth. The Eternal Fleet was similar, and the after-action reports from Zakuul made it clear that world didn’t build those ships. Droids could do crazy things, something she’d seen firsthand when the Gree brought their mind-swirling creations to Ilum.

Despite no expectation of learning anything new, Che’nash kept her eyes focused on the sensors throughout the pass. A natural-born recon specialist, she contained truly endless reserves of patience.

The Alliance wanted her to watch, so she would.

Unexpectedly, in justification of long hours staring out viewports and at sensor readouts, she found something.

It came not from the Star Fortress, but elsewhere amid the in-system traffic. Her IFF system detected a ship running a Zakuul transponder, one headed directly for the fortress.

That was rare, but not unknown. Zakuul’s scientists and engineers enjoyed poling and prodding the worlds below their mighty bastions for amusement. She’d catalogued several runs of that nature already, including one shuttle transporting a live rancor in an external field bubble since the beast was too large to fit in the cargo hold.

This new contact, however, was not traveling from the surface of Arkanis, but approached on a considerably more distant vector from further out in the system.

The Zakuulan pilot, secure in the invincibility of their Empire’s military, made no effort to disguise the point of origin behind this trip. Backtracking the vector was an elementary calculation. A standard assault shuttle, the ship was coming in from the system’s fifth planet, the gas giant Arkanus.

That made little sense. A frigid Ydratian planet, Arkanus was listed as both uninhabited and unsuited for mining operations. Planets like that were unlikely to feature even monitoring satellites.

If the Eternal Empire had found something that interested them on Arkanus, Che’nash instantly wanted to know what it was. Random hits could make or break any recon effort. She refused to let this one pass by.

Of course, it wouldn’t do to be noticed. Luckily a minor thruster adjustment, easily disguised as a misfire triggered during onboard repairs and unlikely to cause a senor tech to so much as blink, sufficed to change her course into a looping orbit past the planet on a leisurely path to the edge of the system. No reason for Zakuul’s might overlords to question it, especially not given her shuttle’s obvious age.

Che’nash waited until the great helium-filled bulk of Arkanus imposed itself between her shuttle and the Star Fortress before she turned about and gunned hard for the cover of the pale blue clouds.

Notes
All systems and trade routes in the 2nd paragraph are canonical and represent significant systems (ex. Malastare is the Dug homeworld). Admittedly, I am declaring, mostly for convenience, that the major trade routes pass through the same systems in 3630 BBY as they do in 0 ABY on the maps in The Essential Atlas. This is highly unlikely, since the hyperlanes ‘move’ over time, but it helps to keep things straight.

Arkanis is a canon system, the capital of the Arkanis sector – best known as the home of Tatooine – and it was settled as this point in the timeline. The presence of Exchange arms dealers on the planet is canonical, mentioned in a crew skill mission in SWTOR. The system is not detailed, making the ice giant Arkanus my own invention.

Star Fortresses are presumably, like basically all Eternal Empire technologies, derived from Iokath tech. Exactly how they are constructed is unknown, but there is only one in-game model, so Che’nash’s observation that they are identical is canon.