defy the tyrannous stars
3
Location: Deep Space, Barkhesh System
Objective: B - Scouting Mission
Allies: [member="Choli Vyn"] [member="Ben Carlin"] [member="Ajira Cardei"] [member="Owen Holst"] [member="Arix Askrima"] [member="Roth Tillian"]
Adversary: [member="Karl Von Keldor"] [member="Tanomas Graf"]
Roster:
Patrol
ANS Rebel's Hope - 500m
ANS Spyglass - 100m
Barkhesh Orbit, Far Side
ANS Dawn's Light - 300m
3x Merchant Fleet transports - 100m each
Incoming Reinforcements
ANS Ascendant, ANS Justicar - 700m each
Control Room, SS Leviathan-class Sullustan Monitor ANS Spyglass
Deep Space, Barkhesh System, Seitia Sector, Outer Rim
In the Galactic Alliance Defense Force, like all military organizations, some postings were better than others. And then, seperated from the rest by the equivalent of a turbolift shaft, there was life aboard a Sullustan Monitor, if it could even be called a life at all. There was no room for luxury aboard the confined stealth corvette, in fact there was hardly even any room for a crew. It was nothing but the sweating and shivering bodies of various species, the mixture of close proximity to body heat and a lack of adequate heating inside the spacecraft wreaking havoc on their systems. And to think, of the options Deacon had actually been given for this assignment, he had actually chosen to come aboard the Spyglass. As wretched an experience as it was in almost every other respect, it possessed one quality the Rebel's Hope and Dawn's Light did not. The crew of the Spyglass were actually cleared to know that he existed.
A berth aboard the larger capitals would have meant impersonating a minor dignitary or military attache, and given he hadn't foreseen a pressing need for the access such a performance would give him, Deacon had opted for one of the very rare moments where he could be at least a version of himself around others. Given the First Order cruiser currently sitting in system and within sensor range of the Hope and the Nabooian contingent, he was rapidly beginning to regret the rare personal indulgence. The captain of the Hope, a crotchety old duros with just about the worst psych profile the Defense Force had for this type of encounter, had at least the presence of mind to keep them focused on him and not the planet itself. As soon as the sensor satellites had detected incoming movement, the construction teams on the surface had gone radio and power silent. The Merchant Fleets had powered down to essential systems only, and the Dawn's Light had powered down as well, moving on minimal power away from over the coordinates of the surface base in case their location was pinpointed.
The captain's handling of the diplomatic nuances of the situation, however, left something to be desired.
"FLEETCOM isn't in the habit of consulting Imperial sector leadership over the particulars of Alliance fleet movements in neutral space," Captain Stazi replied to the commander of the Challenger, his voice echoing fully rendered throughout the cramped corvette's control room as they listened in on the comms, "The Federation's border is not so far either, and we have violated no laws with our presence here."
Deacon fully suspected that the duros was on the verge of making things even worse, when silent warning lights flashed throughout the control room of the Spyglass, diverting their attention to the impending arrival of another, even larger capital class vessel approaching the interdiction probes set up in system. The First Order star destroyer crashed out of hyperspace, imposing out the viewport even from their extreme range. Almost at once, its shields were raised and the Monitor detected extra-system transmissions coming from the craft. Shrewdly, Captain Stazi took the opportunity to send a message of his own, on an encrypted Alliance frequency requesting backup from the task force near Asmeru. Now apparently outnumbered, and outgunned, it would not seem as unduly threatening for the Alliance carrier to send transmissions of their own.
"Sir, your orders?" the captain of the Spyglass, a grizzled old Bothan, whispered unnecessarily. That was all he was to them, 'Sir', "I can put us right up alongside the destroyer, get a few clean shots off at their bridge before anyone realizes we're here."
"No, stay at evasion range. Put the Hope between them and us," Deacon ordered, shaking his head. This was probably a terrible idea, "Get me an EVA suit, and remove a missile from one of the concussion tubes."
The Sullustan Monitor effectiveness in the field depending entirely upon stealth, and so it was well equipped both to fire its missile tubes silently and with a great deal of precision. The SIS agent had had to waste a few minutes of time arguing theoretical astrophysics and thermodynamics with one of the ship's engineers, but eventually his blanket authority and the fact that they were all a little terrified of him won out in the end. Through his auricular implants, wired to the Spyglass's systems for the moment, he could hear the Challenger's captain issue his ultimatum to Rogue Squadron. In the final few moments before the X-Wings entered the cruiser's firing range, orders came over the Alliance's internal battlecomms to the starfighters to stand down x-foils and break off. So Captain Stazi wasn't crazy at least.
The sensation of being fired out of a corvette's missile tube was a curious one, and likely to be one of the more unique experiences the agent had ever been through during his time with the SIS. With the Monitor's stealth firing capabilities and the relatively minuscule profile of Deacon's biosignature, none of the ships in the vicinity would be able to detect him rapidly approaching the Rebel's Hope, save perhaps the enhanced Theed Hangar sensor packages. The tube had been modulated to fire him at a speed that wouldn't kill him outright, and would give his suit enough time to reverse thrust enough so that he could both pass through the shields unharmed and that the impact wouldn't be fatal, but would still limit his exposure time in what was essentially ballistic freefall.
Needless to say, when he hit the hull of the Alliance carrier, it really hurt. Almost knocked unconscious by the landing, Deacon had enough presence of mind to engage his grav boots, locking himself onto the hull of the ship. Navigating himself as quickly as possible to the nearest airlock, he punched in his agency override codes and crumpled into the corridor after the chamber had cycled, peeling off his helmet and gasping in relief. A half dozen blaster carbines were leveled in his face.
"Identify yourself!" a marine screamed at him.
"Strategic Intelligence Service!" he shouted back, then rattled off a very long authorization sequence, "Now take me to your captain before he starts a karking war."
Location: Deep Space, Barkhesh System
Objective: B - Scouting Mission
Allies: [member="Choli Vyn"] [member="Ben Carlin"] [member="Ajira Cardei"] [member="Owen Holst"] [member="Arix Askrima"] [member="Roth Tillian"]
Adversary: [member="Karl Von Keldor"] [member="Tanomas Graf"]
Roster:
Patrol
ANS Rebel's Hope - 500m
ANS Spyglass - 100m
Barkhesh Orbit, Far Side
ANS Dawn's Light - 300m
3x Merchant Fleet transports - 100m each
Incoming Reinforcements
ANS Ascendant, ANS Justicar - 700m each
Control Room, SS Leviathan-class Sullustan Monitor ANS Spyglass
Deep Space, Barkhesh System, Seitia Sector, Outer Rim
In the Galactic Alliance Defense Force, like all military organizations, some postings were better than others. And then, seperated from the rest by the equivalent of a turbolift shaft, there was life aboard a Sullustan Monitor, if it could even be called a life at all. There was no room for luxury aboard the confined stealth corvette, in fact there was hardly even any room for a crew. It was nothing but the sweating and shivering bodies of various species, the mixture of close proximity to body heat and a lack of adequate heating inside the spacecraft wreaking havoc on their systems. And to think, of the options Deacon had actually been given for this assignment, he had actually chosen to come aboard the Spyglass. As wretched an experience as it was in almost every other respect, it possessed one quality the Rebel's Hope and Dawn's Light did not. The crew of the Spyglass were actually cleared to know that he existed.
A berth aboard the larger capitals would have meant impersonating a minor dignitary or military attache, and given he hadn't foreseen a pressing need for the access such a performance would give him, Deacon had opted for one of the very rare moments where he could be at least a version of himself around others. Given the First Order cruiser currently sitting in system and within sensor range of the Hope and the Nabooian contingent, he was rapidly beginning to regret the rare personal indulgence. The captain of the Hope, a crotchety old duros with just about the worst psych profile the Defense Force had for this type of encounter, had at least the presence of mind to keep them focused on him and not the planet itself. As soon as the sensor satellites had detected incoming movement, the construction teams on the surface had gone radio and power silent. The Merchant Fleets had powered down to essential systems only, and the Dawn's Light had powered down as well, moving on minimal power away from over the coordinates of the surface base in case their location was pinpointed.
The captain's handling of the diplomatic nuances of the situation, however, left something to be desired.
"FLEETCOM isn't in the habit of consulting Imperial sector leadership over the particulars of Alliance fleet movements in neutral space," Captain Stazi replied to the commander of the Challenger, his voice echoing fully rendered throughout the cramped corvette's control room as they listened in on the comms, "The Federation's border is not so far either, and we have violated no laws with our presence here."
Deacon fully suspected that the duros was on the verge of making things even worse, when silent warning lights flashed throughout the control room of the Spyglass, diverting their attention to the impending arrival of another, even larger capital class vessel approaching the interdiction probes set up in system. The First Order star destroyer crashed out of hyperspace, imposing out the viewport even from their extreme range. Almost at once, its shields were raised and the Monitor detected extra-system transmissions coming from the craft. Shrewdly, Captain Stazi took the opportunity to send a message of his own, on an encrypted Alliance frequency requesting backup from the task force near Asmeru. Now apparently outnumbered, and outgunned, it would not seem as unduly threatening for the Alliance carrier to send transmissions of their own.
"Sir, your orders?" the captain of the Spyglass, a grizzled old Bothan, whispered unnecessarily. That was all he was to them, 'Sir', "I can put us right up alongside the destroyer, get a few clean shots off at their bridge before anyone realizes we're here."
"No, stay at evasion range. Put the Hope between them and us," Deacon ordered, shaking his head. This was probably a terrible idea, "Get me an EVA suit, and remove a missile from one of the concussion tubes."
The Sullustan Monitor effectiveness in the field depending entirely upon stealth, and so it was well equipped both to fire its missile tubes silently and with a great deal of precision. The SIS agent had had to waste a few minutes of time arguing theoretical astrophysics and thermodynamics with one of the ship's engineers, but eventually his blanket authority and the fact that they were all a little terrified of him won out in the end. Through his auricular implants, wired to the Spyglass's systems for the moment, he could hear the Challenger's captain issue his ultimatum to Rogue Squadron. In the final few moments before the X-Wings entered the cruiser's firing range, orders came over the Alliance's internal battlecomms to the starfighters to stand down x-foils and break off. So Captain Stazi wasn't crazy at least.
The sensation of being fired out of a corvette's missile tube was a curious one, and likely to be one of the more unique experiences the agent had ever been through during his time with the SIS. With the Monitor's stealth firing capabilities and the relatively minuscule profile of Deacon's biosignature, none of the ships in the vicinity would be able to detect him rapidly approaching the Rebel's Hope, save perhaps the enhanced Theed Hangar sensor packages. The tube had been modulated to fire him at a speed that wouldn't kill him outright, and would give his suit enough time to reverse thrust enough so that he could both pass through the shields unharmed and that the impact wouldn't be fatal, but would still limit his exposure time in what was essentially ballistic freefall.
Needless to say, when he hit the hull of the Alliance carrier, it really hurt. Almost knocked unconscious by the landing, Deacon had enough presence of mind to engage his grav boots, locking himself onto the hull of the ship. Navigating himself as quickly as possible to the nearest airlock, he punched in his agency override codes and crumpled into the corridor after the chamber had cycled, peeling off his helmet and gasping in relief. A half dozen blaster carbines were leveled in his face.
"Identify yourself!" a marine screamed at him.
"Strategic Intelligence Service!" he shouted back, then rattled off a very long authorization sequence, "Now take me to your captain before he starts a karking war."
