Star Wars Star Wars: Episode IV: Twilight of the Force: A Father’s Legacy - Game is now OVER!

IC: Senator Aryan Graul
Galactic Senate, Coruscant

As soon as the chamber broke out in applause, Aryan knew he had won. The Emperor was too much of a gutless coward to challenge such a bold proclamation in front of the entire assembly, and so it came as no surprise when the man abruptly ended the session and disappeared into the lower depths of the Senate rotunda...no doubt to lick his wounds and converse with his subordinates on how to proceed. By removing himself from the debate at such a critical moment, he had essentially left the Senator in complete control. That thought brought a wry grin to Aryan’s features as he slowly settled back down in his seat to enjoy the view.

“Well played, sir,” Sentan muttered quietly into his ear, his voice laced with flattery. “We have the Emperor’s edict, and several Imperial Senators have already requested to be among the hundred that go to Alderaan to meet the Republic Senate.” The man then passed Aryan a datapad that contained Amedda’s proposal.

As Moor carried on excitedly, quickly devising a game plan on the spot – the man had a real acuity for coordination and planning, which is one reason the Senator had chosen him for his position – Aryan scrolled through the document with careful consideration. He immediately identified certain points that he knew the Republic delegation would wish to dispute, namely the need to extend an invitation to 100 senators from each side. It was easy to classify that as a safety concern, especially with the ban on weapons; they would most certainly view that as a trap. While Aryan had his own reservations about that aspect, he could also see the benefits. For one, it would help him deflect unwanted attention away from the main contingent of 10 senators granted to meet with the Emperor and the Chancellor in private. Having so many cooks in the kitchen would essentially allow him to work unchallenged and without the constant annoyance of the media.

In terms of guaranteeing that he would have a seat among that elite group? Well, he had his own methods of persuasion...

A small vibration shook the floor beneath his feet, signaling that the repulsorpod had completed its descent and had arrived at the office level. Tucking the datapad into his jacket, Aryan rose and strode out into the connecting corridor, forcing Sentan to practically jog to keep up with his brisk pace. That did not curb the man’s enthusiasm, however; he continued to prattle on, even as they entered the main suite and the Senator promptly made his way to the mini-bar to pour himself a tumbler of amber liquid.

It was the finest vintage whiskey, imported directly from Chandrila itself and specifically stocked to satisfy his exquisite taste. He usually only broke it out on rare occasions, especially since it was so damn expensive, but he could make an exception every so often. Besides, he could raise the argument that today’s Senate session qualified as such an occasion.

To the profound ignorance that leads to victory.

With a soft scoff, he tossed back the tumbler and relished in the slow burn as the contents traveled down his throat and settled in the pit of his stomach. A shiver ran down his spine and he relaxed back against the bar, issuing a contented sigh. That was some damn fine whiskey…

Before he could pour himself another, Sentan returned to the main room after making his rounds to the various offices. It was a common ritual for the man to ‘sweep’ the apartment and exert his authority over the lesser advisors and staffers who worked under him. It kept him busy when he was not engaged at Aryan’s side, managing his schedule, or squabbling with other bureaucrats to keep the peace. But it also served another purpose, particularly when the Senator required privacy for what he liked to call his ‘special engagements’, marked by a simple ‘SE’ in his personal planner. No other details were given. He was not to be disturbed during that time, barring any extreme emergencies.

He had scheduled one such appointment for this afternoon, and so Sentan Moor had dutifully made preparations to secure the suite.

“I’ll leave you to make contact with the Republic contingent, Senator,” Moor was saying as he approached the door, signaling that everything was set. “And I’ll screen all your messages until you’re ready.”

Aryan waved a hand casually to stop him, pushing away from the bar and setting the tumbler back on the countertop. “Before you go, Sentan,” he drawled as a slight smirk drew up one corner of his mouth, “if you wouldn’t mind collecting the profiles of all of the qualified Senators within the Empire and sending them to my datapad, I’d like to review them when I’m finished. And take copious notes. I hope to have our list narrowed down and ready to present to the Committee as soon as possible.” His smile widened. “Prepare for a long night.”

His chief advisor flashed a knowing grin, and then excused himself from room.

Now that he was alone, Aryan loosened his collar and removed his jacket, tossing it carelessly over one of the high-backed chairs lining the bar. He then crossed over to his personal study, where the door was just beginning to slide open to reveal a single figure hiding within. The residual light being cast from the waning holoprojector reflected off of her white robes and gave her an almost celestial appearance. It seemed to accentuate the shock of red hair that crowned her head and the full, ruddy lips that were pulled back in a warm smile. Her green eyes sparkled with recognition, and Aryan found that he could no longer contain himself. She was beautiful. Mon Mothma, Chancellor of the Republic, was in his apartment...and she was absolutely beautiful.

“Aryan,” she breathed in greeting, her voice halting.

His gaze met hers and he stalked forward wordlessly, easily closing the gap between them and taking her up in a passionate embrace. He leaned down to kiss her once, lingering for a moment before pulling back marginally to study her features. When he finally spoke, his lips brushed against hers alluringly. “Sorry, Madame Chancellor, I couldn’t resist,” he muttered in a teasing tone, one hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “After today’s excitement, I figured we could both afford to indulge a little. The announcement took us all by surprise.”

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Padme Amidala Skywalker
Naboo, Royal Palace

The handmaidens convened and went to lead Padme and her daughter to the chrome yacht that had served Padme since the Clone Wars. The Queen of Naboo had already given instructions to have their ship prepared, and her blessing to Padme to travel to Alderaan as soon as possible.

Panaka was not happy. ‘Appointing your husband and son to watch over Naboo, and then yourself heading straight into danger? I do not approve, Senator.’

Padme smiled. ‘You rarely do, my friend. But this is the risk we must take for peace. We cannot shy away.’

‘But it is so obviously a trap, my Lady.’

‘Then do something about it, Panaka. Connect up with the security services on Alderaan, liaise with Admiral Ackbar. Chancellor Mothma will be too busy organising the other Senators to handle everything. Our job is to be there, representing Naboo, and peace herself.’



In a moment or two, Padme and Leia were aboard the skiff, the handmaidens in their own parts of the ship, Panaka in the cockpit with the pilot. Padme finally took a breath, and was herself, not just the Senator and former Queen of Naboo. Herself, as Leia’s mother. She smiled at her daughter.

‘Sorry about this, Leia. One moment training, the next on a mission to save the galaxy.’ Padme looked briefly frustrated. ‘I would not want to interrupt your studies.’ Her eyes narrowed, reminded of that. ‘How did the session go duelling Luke?’



Father and son were left to their own devices. While Panaka went with Padme and Leia, Colonel Typho commed to confirmed that he would meet the Skywalker men with the planetary defence setup for review. The Queen wished to be present also, to meet with Generals Skywalker. Boss Nass and General Bunks were travelling in from Otoh Gunga also, and would be two hours by royal speeder.

A general meeting of staff was thus planned. So quickly the Skywalker family fell into military roles, seemingly. But more than anything the Force itself seemed to be impatient, leaning heavily on both Anakin and Luke, almost as if it was seeking to get their attention.

—
Alderaan

The part family moment, part Galactic politics lesson, continued onwards. Bail took a very slow nod. ‘What to do about our... other operations, though? I can liaise with the Yavin base, but we already have operatives in the field.’ He checked his chrono. ‘There’s a mission on Mimban about to start about now, to support the native Coway against the Empire. Someone is financing the resistance for their own gain, I’m sure of it. I’ve sent Spectre Squadron to look into it.’

Breha paused. ‘They’ve already given so much to the cause, Bail. And what of Jacen Syndulla?’

‘He is with his grandfather on Ryloth, at the moment. His mother insisted on being involved. She doesn’t want Kanan to have died for nothing.’

‘I see.’ The Queen of Alderaan sighed. ‘She won’t give up until the Empire‘s depredations come to an end. Will the Rebels be a problem during this peace process?’

Bail looked as if he was about to shake his head, but then paused. ‘Saw Gerrera won’t stop fighting until every Imperial is dead. We’ll have to agree how to handle him. Other Rebels should toe the line, if real progress is made.’

‘By Feyna,’ Breha said, firmly. ‘Which means we don’t want any informal responses to this. Official requests to our allies in the Senate, and the Jedi. They should be asked to mediate - again by Feyna.’

Bail looked to their adoptive daughter. ‘Feyna, are you up for this? There is no shame in you stepping down. It was only a temporary role, to start. A surprise for you, a teaching experience. I didn’t expect it to be something that blew up like this.’

His lips creased, pursed in thought.

—-
Coruscant, private Senatorial apartment of Aryan Graul

Mon grinned, a fresh smile, and drew back from their embrace as they headed to the couch. ‘We all think it’s a trap. I’ve already asked Admiral Ackbar to convene a portion of the Republic Navy to bolster Alderaan’s defences.’

She kissed his nose. ‘And you have no hope of all of the Republic Senators being present in one place for you to trap with the Imperial fleet. Senator Skywalker will hardly fall for a blockade ploy anytime soon.’

‘But I’m sure peace committee leader extraordinaire Aryan Graul can iron out the details,’ Mon smiled again. ‘Once you’re done invading Republic space, of course.’

That little nudge between them yet again; a spark; a fire that lit up their respective selves in a way that drew a lie to this being a Cold War.

—-
Ossus, Grand Library

Yoda allowed his gaze to bore into Obi-Wan and Mace. The Force flowed around them, untouched by their own perception, in the case of Obi-Wan, but eddies and whorls surrounded Mace; though less than before. A direction, the senior master now had.

The aged Jedi Master looked down at the floor, eyes closing, before a decision came to mind. ‘To the Chancellor, Mon Mothma directly, we cannot go. Many eyes will be on her, no doubt. To Alderaan, you should go...’ a slight smile. ‘But to Naboo, we should also reach out to. Senator Skywalker will be escorted to Alderaan by her daughter, of that I have little doubt. But will her husband and son go, too?’

Yoda tapped the floor absently, and turned away. ‘Leave you to speak to Skywalker, I will, and contact Senator Organa. Prepare the Jedi to respond to an Imperial trap, while hoping for a peaceful resolution, I will.’

A pause, and he peered over his shoulder back at them. ‘May the Force be with you, my friends.’

With that, Yoda stepped out. He had to meditate upon the shadow in his thoughts, a pressure upon his mind, adding a black ink to the future which was supposedly white. Within the very Force itself? Discover that, he would.

Afraid, he was.

TAG: @LordTroepfchen, @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, @DarkLordoftheFins, @JediMasterAnne, @HanSolo29 (combo), @Lawbreaker, @BobaMatt
—-
IC: Captain Calo Drusan
Mimban conflict, staging area

Yacht and YT-2400 jumped, a short one at that. Such an act brought archaeologist and ‘bodyguard’, or, rather, ‘his team’, to the attention of the Chimaera, a brand-new Imperial Star Destroyer.

Captain Calo Drusan stiffly turned to face the arrivals. His immediate opinion was clawed suspicion. But that was Drusan for you. Hot-header, irritable, but competent enough to reserve said behaviour for his subordinates and keep himself well away from his superiors long enough for his actions to speak for themselves. Thus he was completely avoiding both the Hand and the Inquisitor aboard his ship; regardless of what sounded like a lightsaber brawl in the relatively nearby ready room.

He frowned as the archaeologist introduced himself. Three Guardian-class light corvettes allowed the two ships to pass by them, but the Vindicator-class heavy cruiser Reproach manoeuvred itself between the Chimaera and the arrival’s, but on a lower plane, so the majority of its guns could hit the two. They would be at a ninety degree angle to each other shortly.

Drusan’s pilot glanced over. The Star Destroyer was presently pointed at the planet, practically in atmosphere. It could turn, but Drusan shook his head. This was not the kind of a danger that a six hundred metre long heavy cruiser would have issue with, let alone one which could dent his Destroyers’ engines. Drusan opened a channel back to the archaeologist. It was a matter of habit that Drusan himself would address a new arrival; the ship was self-running, thanks to the various principles he had instilled in the new crew, enforced by his commander, a survivor of the disaster that had consumed the Imperial Seventh Fleet. Drusan should be the first voice associated with his ship.

‘This is Captain Drusan of the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera responding to Fortuna. You appear to have come to trifle with my time, Rouser. I do not appreciate it. You are arriving in the middle of an Imperial pacification of a dangerous native population.’ More like annoying, but Drusan has managed to isolate the location of the head tribe, and he was damned if an annoyance like this was going to mar his moment.

Drusan muted his end of the voice-only channel for whatever response the archaeologist would give. ‘Sensors?’

‘We having difficulties getting a read on the YT-2400, actually. The yacht is an open reading. But there seems to be some static dumping around the engines of the YT-2400 - but it is a fairly beaten up freighter, even though the YT is relatively new.’

‘Sir! New contact!’

A pocket carrier had just jumped out of hyperspace. Drusan’s eyes widened. ‘Launch all TIEs and direct the corvettes to intercept!’ In a matter of minutes sixty TIEs would be boiling out of the hangar of the Chimaera, with twenty four from the Reproach. The rest of their respective complements were already deployed on patrol, and not in range to assist. But close to a hundred TIEs? It sounded like overkill.

In the moment, the yacht and the YT-2400 had passed the Reproach, and now it would have to account for not hitting the Chimaera. Drusan growled. ‘Order a TIE squadron to take out Rouser and his ‘team’.’ He snarled. A little bit of judicious editing of footage and he could blame the enemy carrier for their destruction.

Easy.

Aboard the Mandalorian carrier, the twins had themselves withdrawn behind the helmets, hands on their holsters but not with guns drawn. As Ka’rta traipsed up the ramp, Goran felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t his place, and he’d been told as much.

Ven and Van strode up to him, all malice behind their mask. ‘She on-board?’ Ven sniped.

Goran nodded slightly. ‘Yes, she is. You didn’t have to do it like that, guys.’

A joint shrug. ‘She’ll have enough creds that she never has to see us again after this. If she plays up though...’

‘I am sure she caught the threat you made, Van.’ Goran bit his lip. ‘She’ll come through.’

‘Good,’ Ven nodded for his brother, held his hand to the side of his helmet as he shifted channels to the shared one. ‘Dethree, start us accelerating. We’re the vanguard. Everyone else isn’t on a schedule - the paymasters want us to dictate one.’

A musical tweet returned, the astromech putting the small carrier through its paces. In a mere moment or two, it would shudder as it’s engines made for the rendezvous - the other criminals gathered here would shortly notice and off this disaster would go. Goran and the twins jumped into their respective fighters. Ven spoke up.

‘Micro-jump in two minutes. Prime yourself, we’ll be course correcting for the nearest Imp ship and then bugging out for the surface.’ A pause. ‘The rest of the coalition will follow.’

Goran resisted the urge to comm Ka’tra. She wanted to be left alone; he had to respect her wishes. A musical tweet over their open comm. ‘What do you mean that the Black Sun reps have already jumped? Jump us now!’

The carrier shuddered, and they arrived. ‘Launch! Launch! Launch!’ The twins gunned their ships first, with Goran quickly behind. Before them all was a trio of light corvettes, turning to meet them, a heavy cruiser, positioned to fire a full broadside at them - and eighty four TIEs in the midst of deployment.

The two Black Sun ships were already past the cruiser, but between them and Mimban was a Destroyer pointing at the planet, and a rapidly convalescing swarm of sixty TIEs; a dozen of which peeled off to intercept.

Ven’s voice echoed out. ‘Dethree, ram the nearest light corvette, now. Goran, cover Ka’tra.’ Van had already lurched forward and scattered fire across the nearest TIE squadron before it could scatter, damaging half the TIE fighters in half as many seconds. Goran narrowed his eyes and kept close to Ka’tra, though he half-expected her to abandon the engagement any second.



The second TIE squadron formed up on a second light corvette and headed towards them, even as the first lit up there carriers shields as it rushed forward.

Pandemonium, and early on, too.

Aboard the Pyke Corellian corvette, the crew of sentiments gathered. Even the five B-Wing crews were recalled to greet the great leader of the Pyke syndicate. His name was Marg Kram. So named as the Pyke syndicate as the species by the same name dominated it, it had been a key component of the Five Families of crime for decades.



All groups were represented today. Pyke’s formed the command crew and enforcers, but human slaves were evident, and crews of Rodians, and mercenaries for the fighters. An armoured component of warriors indicated the ground complement, and as the shuttle arrived, one of the armoured men - a Sun Guard - left his discussion with a severe looking female pilot and rejoined the other soldiers.



With a pair of enforcers beside him, Marg Kram was slim for a Pyke, his eyes glowing with a malevolence that matched his gait. ‘Arg’ placed his hand on his brow to shield himself from the vitriol that emerged from the leader’s mind - a desire for vengeance, a bloodlust unlike any Zey had seen even during the Clone Wars. Marg held his hands to crowd, commanding silence.

‘Honoured members, warriors and slaves of the Pyke Syndicate. You all know our story. As a criminal family which rose up in the graft of the Old Republic Senate fifty years ago, we have frequently wandered close to the centre of galactic events, shaping what has come before and after. The Sith contacted us to cover up the creation of their clone army; then then allowed us to rise beside them as a key component of the Shadow Collective. We foresaw the tide turning against the Jedi and we joined their success, becoming one of the Five.’

Zey knew about the Sith element. Darth Tyranus - Count Dooku - had used the Pyke’s to kill Sifo-Dias, and conceal the true order behind the Clone army. Then Darth Maul, freshly resurrected, had assembled the criminal underworld into a legion to seize the neutral world’s, before internal struggles and a Separatist campaign had crushed the upstart regime. At the end of the Clone Wars, former Padawan Ashoka Tano had been campaigning on Mandalore to capture Maul, and end his menace, during which the Pyke’s had gone independent again, henceforth competing against their former allies in Black Sun and new enemies in the shape of Crimson Dawn, the latter battle which had generally gone poorly for some years. That fact would likely be ignored.

A growl, and the speech turned, and Zey allowed himself to be surprised. ‘Since then we have been caught between Black Sun, Crimson Dawn and the Empire. The chaos which has benefited the Hutts and Crymorah has not yet caused us to rise anew. There has been treachery, and today is where we turn the tide. With the payment of the Coway for our very, very outdated guns and tanks,’ a chuckle echoed brought the hold, ‘we shall have acquired the liquid assets to rebuild the Syndicate anew!’

A roar of appreciation from the crew, a muted one from the slaves, and Zey ensured he raised an arm and cheered too. Marg glanced across the crowd. ‘Some of you are here without a specific role within the coming foray. The B-wings will screen our approach and defend against the inevitable treachery of the other Families, and the corvette will land. The Coway are not primitives, but even they do not have access to the vehicles we offer. They shall require advisers, and anyone who volunteers to remain will acquire my own personal thanks... and a 20% increase in their pay. But keep in mind that I will not guarantee when we will return. Or even if. You will have to make your own way home, a month after we have departed.’ His eyes scanned the crowd. ‘Who will volunteer, perhaps?’

Zey found his gaze regarding the pilot and warrior from earlier. They met eyes and nodded. The warrior stepped forward. ‘I will stay behind, my Liege.’

A nod. ‘Just one?’ There was an uncomfortable shuffle. Zey absently wondered if this was too easy; he focused on the Force, silent in influence to his Padawan. He was reading the room; there was something else afoot here.

A tech took a comlink report, and rushed to speak to Marg. Marg blinked his big eyes. ‘You,’ Marg said, and to the other volunteers, of which there were two smattering among the slaves, the handlers frantically passing the codes to the armoured warrior. ‘Black Sun and the Mandalorians have launched. Take my shuttle, and get off the corvette. Pilots, to your B-wings. We’re jumping the moment you are out of the hangar.’

He snarled as the crowd did not move quickly enough. ‘Now!’

Zey tuned back in to the confusion, looking for Madelyn. He remembered she had changed her hair colour with said wig and locked on to her.

Aboard the Millennium Falcon, Boba Fett silently stalked the YT-1300, following the guide. However, the sensors in his helmet made quite a few notes as he walked, noting features even beyond that which Solo boasted about. A soft appreciation of the freighter entered Fett, and he killed it. This was a job.

And not a job he cared for. The Hutts had specifically hired Boba Fett to be smuggled down to then surface and follow up a bounty upon the various heads of the Imperial army on the surface. Four in total. Each one would earn him a hefty fee.

It was the kind of politics he would rather have avoided, but Jabba had offered to sweeten the deal with some rare saber-darts. Such things were not made any longer; Kamino had been barred from creating weapons under the Empire, especially so since the uprising there roughly a decade ago. They reminded Boba of his father, and so he had yielded to the suggestion; the money was good enough as it was and he’d taken contracts for the Empire as much as against it; Jabba had handed evidence of the complicity of the four officers in the smuggling of resources off-world, so even the local, heavily bribed, Imperial officials would have an excuse if High Command wondered why four captains were killed in the middle of a raid; the Hutts has even bankrolled the Coway funds for Fett via said officers. Just to make it more palatable that Fett was present.

When it was suggested that he would take a gun at some point, he simply stared at Solo; he was wearing a jetpack, he would not be taking it off to man a gun.

Solo backed away and the Wookiee was to take over the tour. However, sensors beeped for attention in his helmet, and Fett turned, striding to the cockpit, ignoring whatever Solo was saying, ditto Chewbacca. He cleared his throat. ‘The others are jumping in, now. We need to go.’

He shut the line and growled to himself. Amateurs. It was a miracle that they had gotten this far. Chewbacca groaned and began firing them up to move, and quickly. He barked that the Black Sun and Mandalorian ships had already jumped.

Fett turned his head to look at Solo, implying that someone needed to be in the guns and it was not going to be him. A hard stare always worked when need be.

—
Elsewhere, further out

Arb interrupted their little dance. ‘Um, it’s started.’ The Black Sun yacht and YT-2400 had launched, and then the Mandalorian carrier, and now the Crymorah ship was spoiling up. The Pyke’s were spilling their brand new shiny B-wings into the void, and the display shifted to show all manner of confusion in-system.

A heavy cruiser, three light corvettes, and eighty-odd TIEs were starting the furball up, with a Star Destroyer pointing at the planet as backdrop. Suddenly there was one less corvette; the Mandalorian pocket carrier had crashed into it, purposely so.

‘Well that’s a mess.’

A signal chimed in; an update. A second heavy cruiser around the edge of the planet was pulling itself into a higher orbit, collecting another trio of light corvettes. It was out of range, very much so, but Arb knew what it was doing. ‘They’re going to microjump behind the smugglers here, catching the ones yet to arrive and smash them. Most of them will die.’

Arb pulled a face. ‘It would have been nice to catch the Black Sun ships too, but this’ll do, I guess. I just hope the Pyke’s don’t notice before they jump in.’

Zekka scowled. ‘Aren’t we going to do anything?’

An adjunct stepped in to the room, a Twi’lek. ‘Sorry to intrude, your Greatness,’ addressing Qi’ra. ‘But I thought you may want to know that the Emperor has just agreed to start negotiating a peace accord with the Republic on Alderaan, with a view clamping down on all of these kinds of skirmishes and reincorporating the neutral worlds into the Senate. In a week.’

‘What?!’ Zekka was flabbergasted. ‘I’ve got to go. The Underlord will want to convene the Vigo’s,’ he said, referring to the title that Black Sun gave its lieutenants. He paused. ‘Seems that Solo dies today, your Excellence. Good for you, no?’ Another grin. Sarcasm and insolence, but nothing more. A game, all this was, to Zekka Thyne.

Arb scowled as he signed off. ‘If we want the Pyke’s to jump in, someone needs to stall that second task force...’ As powerful as Crimson Dawn was, occasionally Arb wished they had more martial power; capital ships, and the like. Cloaks and daggers may be ‘true power’, but when someone turned a big gun on you, there was very little that pressure and leverage could achieve.

But Qi’ra had proven herself to be a brilliant mastermind before, and Arb knew she’d spin it to their advantage anyway. Surely?

Almost as he thought as much, the task force changed, manoeuvring to turn away from the plane of the engagement, and then accelerating. The adjunct returned, looking aghast. ‘The Imperials are repositioning to jump to our coordinates, your Greatness!’

‘But we only used passive scans,’ cried Arb. ‘They should not have been able to follow us, unless -‘ Arb had turned ashen, and looked at the spot that Zekka’s hologram had just occupied. ‘He wouldn’t’ve, would he?’

—-
The Ultimate Weapon

A slight silence filled the room. A concern, perhaps, that Grievous would turn the grand military moment into a personal vendetta. Shu Mai chimed in, her voice melodious. ‘They don’t know, but I thought you would need to... he’s alive. There’s a hidden Jedi base we have not been able to locate, however we suspect he’s been heading to Naboo to train the Skywalker children... which we would border, if not for the Imperial fortress world at Eriadu.’

‘Kenobi’s survival is not relevant to the larger galactic map, surely, General -‘ Nute Gunray went to answer more, when the Tactical Droid interrupted. ‘The smugglers have launched already.’

‘What?’ Nute gasped. ‘Show us, now!’

The screen showed that three, no, eight, smuggler ships were already in the middle of the fray. The carrier has sprouted four mercenary fighters, and two Black Sun ships were already past the cruiser and three, no, two light corvettes. But half the smugglers had yet to jump yet, and there was another task force of the same size orienting to join the Imperial response. A Star Destroyer remained pointed at the planet, paying the engagement no heed save for time deploy TIEs.

Another two Destroyers and four cruisers, as well as more than a dozen light corvettes were arrayed around the planet at equally spaced points, but poorly placed to intervene for a good hour - the Empire had been blockading the entire world, after all; not just one approach.

‘General! Your assault shuttle is prepared for your immediate departure!’ The panicked Tikkes was considerably less glib now their plan of manipulation and financial mastery had made contact with the realities of war.



The Tactical Droid also chimed in. ‘The Invisible Hand II is also prepped to follow you, General. It will arrive in a neighbouring, uninhabited, system, a few hours after your arrival, to assist with the extraction, should you wish to advance with the shuttle and your bodyguards first. We do have two more destroyer/carriers prepared if -‘



‘No, no,’ said Wat, stepping between Grievous and the droid. ‘We don’t want to be drawn into a lengthy engagement. We cannot extend our supply train to Mimban. It has to be a raid, and nothing more nor less.’

San coughed, interrupting. ‘We aided in the rehabilitation of General Grievous for a reason, my friends. We should trust him to act. He will decide how best to reveal himself to the galaxy. It his fate that shall decide ours.’ He offered the Kaleesh cyborg a smile.

‘General?’

TAG: @galactic_vagabond422, @RachelTyrell, @MASTER Vo’Un’Var, @Jerjerrod Lennox, @QueenSabe7, @TheSilentInfluence, @Kaleesh-Cyborg

 

The following is a combo post with Sinrebirth – it has been a pleasure!

IC: Senator Aryan Graul & Chancellor Mon Mothma
Private Senatorial Apartment of Aryan Graul, Coruscant

Seated beside the Chancellor on the plush couch, Aryan lifted a brow at her levity, seeming to take offense at her comment about him willfully invading Republic space, but it was all a feint; a part of their usual routine. Coming from opposing sides of this conflict, it had become a sort of coping mechanism to jest about the frivolous nature of things, especially when one considered their unique circumstances. The Republic Chancellor personally seeing an Imperial Senator while a Cold War was raging across the galaxy?

He could see the headlines now: ‘Heresy! Treason!’ ‘Corrupt Politics or Bipartisan Solution?’ ‘Scandalous Tryst Threatens Peace Accords.’

No doubt, it would turn into an unmitigated disaster if their secret ever got out, but fortunately Aryan was an extremely cautious man and had taken the necessary precautions to avoid detection. Mon was equally as resourceful. But failing that, there were always ways to deny such claims and turn an apparent catastrophe into a win.

Aryan drew himself inward and gloated over his grand design, this thought translating into a mischievous grin as he returned his attention back to the woman sitting adjacent to him. “And yet, here you are,” he drawled lazily, picking up where she had left off, “breaking every regulation under the Imperial Ordinance to sit here in my office on Coruscant.” He issued a small scoff. “So, who is invading whom? Shall I alert security?”

The Senator brushed a thumb along her jawline tenderly, moving in for another quick kiss, before turning serious. “Anyway, you make a fair point,” he sighed and reclined back marginally. “I can’t rule out a trap myself, but if not a blockade to make demands, then what? A bomb? It’s quick, effective, and would achieve the maximum result.” He shifted uncomfortably as he worked things through to their logical conclusion. “He could potentially wipe out the entire Senate in one solid blow...he’d stand unopposed.”

Mon eased into a comfortable position, thoughtful. ‘Your Senate would still have four hundred members even if he sacrificed a hundred. The most manipulative thing he could do was send the Senators he has that are causing him problems to Alderaan and keep them there.’

‘I could not see him getting a bomb past an orbital scan, whatever countermeasures Cracken put into place, and inevitably there will be Jedi present. Even if I do not formally request them.’ She nuzzled into him slightly.

She took his hand and held it to her cheek, enjoying the warmth for a moment. ‘And what is he going to do? Blow himself up? This is Mas Amedda we’re talking about.’

A broad smile spread over Aryan’s features as he stretched out, resting an arm along the back of the couch and pulling her close to him. “I certainly wouldn’t object,” he quipped with a devilish glint in his eye. “Maybe I’m secretly hoping for something like that to happen. It would save us all a lot of grief. Does that make me a terrible person?”

He chuckled lightly before sobering, his eyes narrowing with thought. Mon’s suggestion about Amedda possibly arranging a peace summit to keep his political opponents at bay made more sense than he cared to admit. It would explain why he had been so complacent when Aryan had challenged him during today’s session, his insistence on using only 100 Senators to hash out the debate...and what about those elite few who were chosen to meet with the Emperor in private? Is that how he intended to silence his greatest rivals? Lock them in a room and...execute them?

“This puts us in a potentially difficult position,” he muttered quietly, leaning down to rest his chin on top of her head, tightening their embrace. “It may be our only real shot at unification, but if he’s planning to isolate and dispose of his opposition in the Senate...then what is his eventual goal? I don't think he has peace in mind. It almost sounds like a diversion, a single step in a much larger plan. Are you, as a member of the Republic, even a target? Do we want to take that risk and play into his hand? Or should we try to limit the damage by exerting control?”

Mon nodded slowly. Her own danger level was never in question; high. High is where it sat. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander, to feel the edges of Aryan and where their bodies met as they sat. It was a calming exercise, but also a moment of intimacy that she quietly enjoyed away from Chandrila.

Well, not too quietly.

‘Perhaps the respective Heads of State should be present at the accords but not the private discussions. If we worded it as, say, the Republic not wanting to force the Emperor to negotiate in person such trivialities, then conceivably the Emperor and Chancellor would not be present at those discussions and we’d cut him out. The Chancellor would not worry about such things - which I won’t. That would allow the genuine peacebringers to bring themselves forward as no other Senator is going to either go to that meeting and want all the pressure unless they genuinely care, and no Senator is going to blow themselves up for Mas Amedda.’

Mon paused. ‘We could argue about the hundred Senators or we could focus our energies on the actual peace talks. The fanfare, the public display, and so forth, its less relevant. So we propose the teams report back to their full assemblies once the deal is hammered out for presentation. The respective Heads of States are busy after all.’ A smile, feral, all politician. ‘Then we suggest narrowing the number of negotiators in the room to three a piece and we’re done. Everyone will think streamlining, very good, and the Emperor will be unable to argue if I agree completely with the recommendations of his own Committee leader.’

A grin. ‘Assuming he’s sufficiently dashing to woo me.’

“I don’t know, Madame, you drive a high bargain,” Aryan shrugged casually, angling his chin away from the Chancellor so that she couldn’t see the impish grin overtaking his features; he was teasing. “But you’ve always had a keen eye for the more finer points of our profession...how could I resist?”

In truth, her proposal held untold potential, and he was eager to share his thoughts. “Sidelining the Emperor is a bold move,” he surmised as he nestled into her neck, his lips brushing against her bare skin as he spoke. “I agree that it could prove exceedingly effective. Just keep in mind that it may tend to attract some unwanted attention to our cause. In that sense, it’s a good thing we have the grand assembly of ‘100 Senators’ to fall back on – we could use them to our advantage. I initially thought they would be a hindrance, but all that pomp and circumstance could serve as a distraction while the rest of us conduct business. At the very least, I think it would be sufficient enough to keep the Emperor busy.”

Leaning back marginally, Aryan issued a soft sigh, his concerns now turning to her personally. “Although, I hope you’re aware that by agreeing to limit Amedda’s influence, you also inhibit your own voice in this matter. Is that something you’re willing to do?” He raised his brow, his eyes reflecting a fierce intensity. “Do you trust me and my team on the Committee to handle the specifics? All you will have to do is sign-off on my proposals. There shouldn’t be any surprises.”

Mon gave him a side glance. ‘I do trust you, Aryan. I appreciate that it’s a danger, but it’s also in your best interests to back this. The Senate, no, the galaxy - it needs change. We can’t be stuck like this for another twenty years.’

‘As much fun as this is,’ she said, lightly. ‘But I know you want the top job. I also know that you’re good enough to understand that to get that job and keep that job you won’t achieve it with manipulation and murder - even if your personality was ever corrupted by the rot in the Senate, your conscience would stop you.’

She sounded increasingly noble. Mocking even. Definitely teasing.

For a moment, Aryan failed to consider her light-hearted tone; he was too distracted by the icy chill that suddenly traveled down the length of his spine and clenched his chest with mounting concern. The small hairs on the back of his neck bristled, and he instinctively began to pull back and remove himself from her personal space, his eyes searching her face intently. She had gotten a little too close with her words, which begged the question – how much did she know? Did Sentan betray his trust with loose lips...or had Mon actually been one step ahead of him this whole time, luring him into a false sense of security just to expose him?

In that case, it was a game well played.

And yet…

The Senator noticed the subtle curve of her lips, the way her eyes seemed to gleam with a mischievous twinkle. It wasn’t the expression of a woman seeking to snare her prey; it was far too innocuous for that. That’s when he finally realized that she was only teasing him.

You damned fool…

Aryan smirked and relaxed back into her presence, his expression almost wistful as he quickly expunged any lingering hints that could potentially point to his brief lapse in judgment. He embraced the moment and decided to play this up as if he had intended this reaction all along; to make it seem like it was all part of their usual banter.

“You sound so sure of that,” he conveyed in a mocking tone, that perpetual smirk bringing fine lines to the corners of his eyes. “But aren’t we all just a little corrupt in our own way? For example, we have the Chancellor of the Republic, sitting in the private office of a married man – and an Imperial Senator, no less – enticing him with delusions about obtaining one of the most powerful and prestigious roles in the galaxy. Is that the same conscience at work...that famous female intuition, serving as her man's moral compass? What is it they say – that behind every great man is an even greater woman?” His mouth pulled up seductively. “You, Ma’am, are going to get me into trouble…”

He leaned forward, his eyes straying hungrily toward her lips. “But rest assured, you have my support,” he continued in a husky tone. “I understand what’s at stake...what needs to be done to secure our future. This peace summit is our greatest opportunity to set things right – I won’t let you down.”

Aryan closed the remaining distance that separated them and whisked her away with a passionate kiss.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Padme Amidala Skywalker
Naboo orbit - with input from DarkLordoftheFins and Lawbreaker

The yacht went up, and Padme eyed her daughter. ‘Is that all?’ They we’re poised to complete the jump, and a redistribution of power to the hyperdrive slightly rocked the ship and they rocketed into hyperspace. ‘Father will be catching up in his own ship; he’s fiddled with that hyperdrive to the point that he could set off hours later and he’d still beat us to Alderaan.’ Padme briefly looked amused.

The former Queen appraised her daughter in full; the Force rumbled, Leia would sense something of what was happening with her father and brother, but the Force was proving unhelpful in the grand cosmology of matters; it was more direct and focused upon her on what was approaching Leia and Padme -

Anakin had left the meeting to his son and retreated to his private quarters. The message did not surprise him. He had expected his former Master to reach out.

He activated the holocom and sat in his only seat in the otherwise dark room. The blueish glowing figure of his former Master appeared.

"Obi-Wan, good to see you old man." He smiled at his friend.

"Good two see you my Padawan." Obi-Wan answered, knowing Anakin hated to be called like this. But Anakin only laughed.

"You have heard of Alderaan obviously." Anakin came straight to the point.

"I have. I assume Padme will leave soon?" Anakin nodded. "She will."

"You know it sounds like a trap and the Emperor cannot be trusted." Obi-Wan said calmly. Anakin nodded again.

"We won't. I will take personal care of her protection. Which doesn't mean an additional Jedi escort would not be more than welcome."

Obi-Wan Kenobi nodded. "That is what I wanted to ask you about. Unfortunately my search for applicable candidates into the ranks of the Jedi have lead me to the Alderaan system. I might get stuck there by security measures for the meeting."

Anakin had to smile. His former Master had always crafty. "Most unfortunate."

Obi-Wan Kenobi nodded. "Maybe I can be of use to the Senator of Naboo while I am there."

"If you happen to be around I would not be surprised if she would ask you to join her security detail."

Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin felt better for the fact his former Master would be around. He had always been a pillar for the crumbling Jedi Order, but the recent years had given him a clarity and power Anakin almost envied.

"I guess it will be almost like the good old times then." Anakin nodded with a smile to his former Master."

"Almost." The older man replied.

Anakin nodded. The galaxy had never been the same. Nostalgia did not help them now.

"I feel something is about to happen. Something meaningful. Potentially dangerous." He was now serious.

"Is it Alderaan?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin shrugged. "I do not know. My son is involved. He feels it too."

"Is Luke coming?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin shook his head. "No, he will be responsible for the safety of our people in my absence."

"A great responsibility for someone so young." And someone barely trained in the Jedi arts.

"I trust him. I would trust nobody more than him. The force is strong in him, Obi-Wan. It is so incredibly strong in him."

Obi-Wan nodded. "He has a lot of his father. Among many things, he also inherited the strength in the force."

Anakin looked at his old Master and nodded.

"See you on Alderaan, old friend. May this force be with you."

"And you." Obi-Wan replied and the connection was cut. Anakin sighed deeply and closed his eyes, giving himself completely to the force, proving it for another revelation, a hint of the things to come ...

The Force rumbled with a warning; anticipation was building. Danger, both immediate and not. The contradiction rang out as clear as possible to Leia and it would to Anakin Skywalker. Both would feel the presentment about the Alderaan system.

There was another flash of the future for the Chosen One, a touch of his dream pressing upon him again; the Dark Man, sitting on the golden throne, the laugh. It was familiar, but choked, as if through a wounded throat.

The eyes, they were the most distinct; two burning White, and then one Yellowed and another Blue... the Blue growing Grey, if not Silver; the pupil rotating and a glimmer of Green was evident as it turned...

And that breathing again...

Mechanical.

Wheezing.

Monstrous.

Another step had been taken towards it; but it was not yet real. The Force told him that much.

It was not real.

But the Force revealed Alderaan; it revealed a shadow in orbit; it revealed a danger for his wife and daughter.

And then no more. The Force grew quiet; silent; it held its breath; it would offer Anakin Skywalker no more guidance.

The Force also offered a differing vision to Luke Skywalker. It wormed into his mind, and then pain would explode between his eyes; flames upon worlds; his mothers scream; his sisters tears; his father’s cold detachment from it all, as he stared forward, a blue lightsaber in his hand, facing a cloaked foe holding a crimson blade. His sending was of a terrible future, of a sense of urgency; of fear, terrible, terrible fear.

Artoo would tweet his concern at Luke, musically enquiring as to whether he was alright. He was already tempted to communicate with Anakin, but the droid also knew that Luke’s father would be in hyperspace for far too long to immediately review the message - and semi-conscious in its Droid ways that such a message would upset Luke. Even Artoo and Threepio had detected the tension in the family, and had grown concerned enough to jointly code a new subroutine in respect of the same.

—
Ossus, quiet grove

The long moment came and went; an offering of stillness in the Dark. Mace Windu in his quiet received the same vision as that of Anakin, but not the sense of danger that encompassed him; he had not the connection that Anakin had to Padme and Leia - but Mace would feel the dark leaning upon Luke, obscuring his vision of the son of Skywalker; he was unable to see what Luke was sent.

The Neti stirred. Dark tidings, I fear. A prophecy, I would speak, if I would believe you would listen, Master Jedi Windu.

A single vine unwound, curling across the Jedi Masters shoulder. The Force touched across the wooden limb; communication became them thus eased, and Ood Bnar was present. ‘Guessed, you have, my fate... has Ossus healed enough for my return; has the galaxy? I would not bequeath my wisdom and knowledge upon a Jedi Order poised to join war...’

A rustling of leaves. ‘The Force is about to go silent. It will bequeath no more visions; no more warnings; no more truth. It has given the Chosen One all it can; it has given Mace Windu all the knowledge that he might discern; it has taught Yoda what it can about death; it has given Obi-Wan Kenobi purpose in his quiet balance. From this point free will, it may assert itself anew...’

Ood paused. He had not spoken those words, actively. Another had; through him, perhaps. He was telling this Jedi Master the last truth. It would reverberate; it would echo, but only Mace Windu would hear it.

‘The prophecy, do you require it, or have you sufficient direction from what you have studied, what you have lost, and what you have gained?’

—-
Alderaan and Coruscant - with input from HanSolo29

Satisfied with the reply, Bail nodded. ‘I’ll try and contact Hera at Mimban, but first we should connect with Chancellor Mothma.’ He indicated the holo plate, which Feyna had previously taken but could take more than one occupant. ‘She’ll need our support first, before anyone else chimes in. Alderaan is hosting after all.’

The signal sought to connect, and Bail beetled his brow as it took time to locate the Chancellor’s beacon. He absently realised that Feyna had not been formally introduced. He added, somewhat lamely. ‘The Chancellor is always on the move, keeping ahead of Imperial assassin’s.’

Breha nodded, kissing Bail and Feyna on the cheek each. ‘I shall leave you to this. I will have to arrange the reception, after all.’ She swept out the room, leaving the two of them.

On Coruscant, Mon heard her comlink chime, and looked to see who was contacting her. She had done well to last this long without contact, in the circumstances. It was momentous enough, after all. ‘It’s Bail, Aryan. I need to take this. Did you want to be joined in, as if by hologram?’

Aryan issued an audible sigh and bowed his head marginally, masking his disappointment with a thin smile. They were still only inches apart, his lips hovering above hers alluringly; he appeared reluctant to disengage from her fully, but ultimately pulled away to allow her to conduct business, lest they be discovered. “If you can find a way to spin it...such as consulting with the Senate Leaders of the opposing side, then sure. You know I can’t resist a good debate.” He shrugged with a mischievous glint to his eye. “Although...I may have more sway as Chairman of the Committee. That may make Bail a little more receptive to my presence.”

Mon smiled. ‘Leave it to me, Chairman.’ Moving from the couch she strode to her comms room, leading him by the arm before releasing him out of sight. ‘Bail,’ she added, looking altogether radiant as she serenely smiled.

The little thought arose within Aryan about just how beautiful Mon was anew. Mon’s smile seemed to slant, as if the side closest to Aryan was larger; a smile for him, too.

‘Chancellor Mothma,’ Bail said, and indicated the second person in the hologram. ‘My daughter, Feyna, and now Senator the Alderaan system.’

‘Yes, I saw her respond suitably to the Emperor - who of course ignored her neutrality on the matter,’ Mon looked unamused. Nonetheless she pressed on. ‘I have already been in touch with the Imperial Committee Leader; this ‘Aryan Graul’ of Nubia. I think he will agree to reducing the number of Senators in attendance in the actual discussion, and I have suggested that the two Heads of State be outside the room itself - reported to by our representatives to insulate the process from the Emperor and Chancellor.’

Bail held a hand up to Feyna. ‘Is that wise, Chancellor?’

‘The Senate needs to have purview of this; I in my role as Chancellor will be passing the decision to the Senate, and it creates pressure on Amedda to do the same.’ A pause. ‘In actual fact, I have Senator Graul on the line - can I include him? We need to start putting names and faces to discussion and I have little doubt that Alderaan will need to have a seat at the table with, perhaps, the Senators from Naboo and Corellia?’

‘Padme and Garm?’ Bail paused. ‘Sound decision, Mon. Add Aryan then.’

‘One moment,’ she said, pausing the feed, adjusting the lens. ‘Senator Aryan Graul of Nubia, Chairman of the Imperial Peace Committee, if I may introduce Senator Feyna Organa of Alderaan, and Prince Consort Bail Organa of the same.’

She smiled neutrally; her politicians face was now present.

On the edge of the Alderaan system, however, a small ship was holding; cloaked. It was a warship known as the Carrion Spike, possessing one of the all too rare hbdrium cloaks; one of the very few designs which did not result in double-blind cloaks.



Quietly, it lurked, waiting for the arrivals to do just that; arrive. There would be a narrow window between Republic warships converging on the system and the Alderaanian reliance upon their planetary shields for the occupants of the warship to take advantage of.

And so they would.

TAG: @LordTroepfchen, @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, @DarkLordoftheFins, @JediMasterAnne (combo with HanSolo29 and GM), @HanSolo29 (combo with Anne and GM), @Lawbreaker (on Christmas leave), @BobaMatt (combo with GM)
—-
Battle of Mimban

Zey tuned back into the conversation as Madelyn volunteered them to go to the surface with the Sun Guard and a retinue of slaves. ‘What?’

The Pyke leader focused his eyes on the two of them long enough for the B-wings to leap out of the hangar, buffeting them with exhaust energy. The leader snorted. ‘Go. Earn your bonus.’ The larger ship rumbled as its hyperdrive spooled.

Zey rushed his Padawan up the ramp of the Sheathipede shuttle, not able to either praise or reprimand her for initiative. They did need to get to the surface, and now; it was appropriate.



The Pyke pilot rattled something; the ship had rear guns. Zey nudged his Padawan. ‘Take them.’

The Sun Guard strolled up to the pilot as the slaves strapped themselves in. He bodily grabbed the Pyke by the neck and took his seat; one of four that were available; pilot, co-pilot, front and rear gunner. Zey slid into the front gunnery position, reaching out into the Force to his Padawan so they could coordinate. ‘The names Owen,’ said the Sun Guard. ‘I’m here to cover my wife in the B-Wing and someone else working with the mercs. So I’ll be completing the mission with or without you.’ He eyed the Pyke and Zey and Madelyn. ‘I don’t keep slaves. You can handle them while I support the Coway.’

The blockade runner emerged into the fray, and Owen goosed the engines. A half squad of TIEs was evident, scattered and reforming into a formation. Zey opened fire, feeding Madelyn data about ones he nicked rather than destroyed. He took out a single TIE before they passed; one was trailing sparks and moving slowly, but four split into wingpairs and one pair would clearly be hugging the shuttle’s rear in the time it took for Madelyn to it the damaged TIE; she had the choice to fire on the wingpair or take out the single TIE.

Zey absently followed her progress as he opened fire on the cruiser Reproach, which absorbed the shots on its shields with ease, and opened fire on the sole Crymorah ship; it exploded. Owen dove under debris, but managed to keep the rear in line for Madelyn to fire.

To say that matters were getting confusing was possibly an understatement. Captain Drusan’s eyes were diverting from point to point by the second, trying to find the point to break the attack. He lost sight of a YT-1300 for a moment, and then it appeared far, far too deep into the gravity well. Drusan hissed. He could not use his guns for fear of missing and hitting his ground forces - the same for the yacht. ‘Send a squadron to get them. Both of them.’

The YT-1300 was the Falcon, one moment above the planet and the next beneath the blockade, appearing just to the left of the yacht of Pascale and buffering it with the shockwave of the sudden arrival. Hissing, Fett undid his jetpack and shimmied along the ladder to the gun. He was barely seated before he blew a TIE apart, leaving eleven to swarm both yacht and freighter.

Chewbacca growled. The right most thruster bank had not liked that jump, and now they were swinging that direction as the left most overcompensated. Before the Wookiee could cut power to the left their shields creased those of the yacht, bouncing them apart but causing warnings to flash across the yacht’s sensors; shields were down by half and the TIEs were closing. Fett shouted to Solo, ‘Do something already!’ He cut the connection and keyed the yacht Fortuna. ‘This is Fett. Get out of the sky, or get dead.’

To the left of them was the massive smoke plume which was the Coway fortifications besieged, a ring of death made up of AT-ATs pouring fire into the natives bunkers and temporary homes, supporting a network of Mudtroopers. Atmospheric TIE strikers rose up, holding position between the army and them; these pilots would not be baited out of position.

In orbit, the Pyke ships made a decisive difference. Four of the five B-wings fired four torpedoes each at the nearest cruiser; sixteen explosions tore down the shields and left it vulnerable. The cruiser rolled to present new shields, opting not to fire on the Pyke runner or shuttle for it, the smaller runner rushing close to trade turbolaser fire with the cruiser which was four times its size; the closer it was, the less guns the cruiser could bring to bear.

Then the four B-wings were beyond the cruiser, ignoring the TIEs caught up trying to kill the incredibly-well-piloted YT-2400, and picking out a Destroyer engine; a single torpedo each and ion fire met shields met hull met engine. The Chimaera suddenly had to focus on staying aloft, and Drusan hissed.

Of course, there were still plenty of TIEs and light corvettes to kill Ven and Van, let alone Goran and Ka’rta. Said Imperials regrouped between them and the planet, ready to encompass them; bolts reverberated on the hull of the Osik, but the reinforced armour held firm. Yet, one of the Pyke B-wings had broken ranks and hurtled into the middle of the light corvette formation, lobbing a torpedo at each corvette. They scattered, and the B-Wing paused in front of her freighter, waggling its wings and then darting off to rejoin the assault on the Star Destroyer. Goran cut across their private channel. ‘You know that pilot?’

He didn’t hear her reply as the TIEs rallied and Ven’s fighter vanished into an explosion - Van swore, but an EV beacon showed up - Ven had punched out. ‘Of all the lucky bastards - Ka’rta, pick him up. Then we’ll make our run for the surface.’

Of course, twenty-odd TIEs surrounded the beacon, forming up between them and it. Goran cursed. ‘Osik.’ The younger man gunned forward and then spun away, teasing five TIEs to follow him and leaving a gap in the formation for her - though the route to the planets surface was entirely open to her right now.

The other task force, the second heavy cruiser and corvettes continued to climb to a higher plane but also slowed; the Officer was debating whether to pursue the lead it had on an external marshalling point or to dive into the fray. Arb continued to stare at the display, and then at Qi’ra, wondering when she would abandon her game of staring out whether the task force’s movement was in-fact bluff, or an attempt to kill her by Zekka Thyne...

Or anyone else.

TAG: @galactic_vagabond422, @RachelTyrell, @Jerjerrod Lennox, @QueenSabe7 (combo), @TheSilentInfluence, @Kaleesh-Cyborg (outstanding tag)


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