Flight of the Fish (Jedi/TSE)

[Jerek Morrows]

Mon Calamari had crumbled and folded into the ever growing Sith Empire. The people were driven into hiding and forced to flee off-world, and those unlucky enough not to do either were either killed or enslaved. That was the data that reached Jedi Intelligence, at least. The First Responders were already en route in droves, ready to evacuate where possible and fight back where necessary.

Jerek stood on the bridge of a Medical Frigate named "Endurance" and listened as the medics went through their normal routine, preparing for the inevitable influx of warm and cold bodies. There was a good chance the Sith were still present in force, so any Jedi who put boots on the ground would have to go armed. The Shadow was less than pleased with that fact. If he had his way, he would have gone in on his own.

Smuggling them out one at a time was not going to work, however. Now the Jedi had amassed resources from willing participants and donors and they were just outside of Mon Calamari space. They were all praying for success.

[member="Bekk Mag'ra"] [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] @Jedi

[member="Darth Carnifex"] @Sith

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Medical frigates always required escort. And that was what Jared was doing. As a muse he was popping up everywhere, but he was a trained Imperial Knight and a pilot for the Chiss at one point. Now? He was using his skills to help protect that which mattered. A Chiss clawcraft had launched from the Endurance when it reverted to real space followed by its flight a few seconds later. The fighters were doused in gold-and-red, from their Alliance converse.

As an Imperial Knight, and learned Jensaarai, Jared felt he filled the role of a Guardian well. “This is Guard 1 through 4 launching. We are awaiting orders.”

The Clawcraft were wonderful craft, and these, while not factory subbed were a solid natural evolution from those used in the old books. But they wings would fold up for landing. As this was going to be fought on the planet. “We can get a through shuttles through, I suspect.” The Jensaarai/Imperial Knight stated. When they got planet side, though, that was going to change things.

Shields and weapons were warming up.

[member="Jerek Morrows"]

 

[WolfMortum]

Bekk sat within the pilots seat of the Kidem-Class Jedi Patrol Frigate, eyeing up the holo-charts as the rest of the crew set about preparing the vessel for probably encounters with the Sith. While the Frigate wasn't the top of the line war frigate out there, it did have plenty of room to take on survivors and refugees under the duress of the Sith occupancy of Mon Calamari.

"Endurance, this is the Fidelity. We are en-route to your position, defenses are primed and we're ready to begin when you are" Bekk Mag'ra spoke fluent basic with surprisingly little accent. He'd been a Zabrak raised out of his home-world, fortunate not to be considered Tlestri for he had returned in time to complete his Selenoran (rite of adulthood). Aboard the Fidelity were volunteers who had opted in for this assignment and had agreed to move forward under Bekk's command, he a former member of the Circle of Artisans with engineering experience as well as leading Jedi Fighter Squadrons of his past Jedi Enclave; A branch that had since been lost to the ever moving political strife within the Galaxy, like so many others.

Like his Crew, Bekk had also volunteered. He didn't know his fellow Jedi undertaking the mission, but they were each every bit of the Jedi Order that he was, the Order that the Galaxy could call it's own, regardless of whether or not they were all scattered across the navigational map. "Valin, if fighting breaks out before we clear orbit, I'm going to be more use flying the Kal'vyshde. If that's the case, wait for me to disembark before breaching the aptmosphere...-Hopefully we can slip in unnoticed but you know what they say about the best laid plans...".

[member="Jared Starchaser"] | [member="Jerek Morrows"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Location: Pisces Base, surface of Mon Cala
Gear: Cathar Tunic | Lightsaber | Wristlink
NPC Flavoring: Sith Heavy Cruiser (overhead) | TIE Droid Starfighters | Stormtroopers

[ darth lolcat theme ]​

The roar of twin ion engines rolled like thunder overhead.

A large, triangular shadow was cast over the provincial city. Pisces Base was an Old Republic supply depot. A glorified floating warehouse from eons past that had evolved into a sleepy little town, bobbing among the waves. By many respect, it was paradise. The kind of place where someone with a median income could retire and spend the remainder of their years fishing the pylons.

Paradise was burning.

Columns of black smoke twisted like scars cut into the very sky. The sound of the dying was matched only by the lamentations of the people, the weeping sobs of their younglings, as the foreboding icons of Sith-Imperial rule moved with soldierly precision in and between the buildings.

The weather here was warm. The young Sith kitten had foregone the religious habit of donning robes for a Cathar tunic that was more traditional for his species. The hem fell to about his knees, leaving his arms and legs bare. His feet were wrapped in the traditional caligae sandals, while a simple comlink wrapped around one wrist. The silvery cylinder at his side was a marked contrast from the black and gold tunic that dressed his torso.

At the head of a column of destruction, the cat-earred youngling had descended like a fallen angel to the floating city, before proceeding to march straight through main street to the steps of the city hall.

It was on those steps that the duly elected mayor of Pisces Base was dragged, kicking and struggling. A stormtrooper's duraplast-clad fist struck the Quarren in the gut. A precision strike to be certain. It seemed to catch the alien right in the solar plexus. The Quarren doubled over in pain immediately, gasping as the air was robbed from his lungs. Coughing and sputtering, he vomited a puddle onto the steps at the boy's feet.

Kneeling, the young Cathar placed himself at eye level with the Quarren.

"I know that adults are very busy people, so I won't take much of your time," the Cathar kitten uttered, a casual, off-handed remark. "Where are those transmissions you intercepted?"

Ever since the glorious Empire had claimed the backwater genesis of so many of history's great villains, rebel groups and upstarts had continued to challenge the righteous rule of the Sith. The young Cathar had examined several of the incidents that had been brought to light, identifying what appeared to be a pattern.

If he was correct, then some of those rebels were beneath them, in the underwater city of Aquarius. A much larger destination. A much more difficult target.

Pisces Base was a gateway to Aquarius. If the boy was going to exert pressure on Aquarius, it started here.

Pushing himself up on all fours, the squid-faced mayor gasped and sputtered for breath. "We intercepted no transmissions," the Quarren said.

A lie.

And not even a good one.

"-tt-" the Cathar uttered, as a grimace twisted his formerly jovial countenance into a look of disgust that displayed his prominent incisor teeth. The child's hand came up, cupped into a grip-like gesture. The Dark Side of the Force moved around the boy as an invisible hand began to press against the Quarren's lying throat.

"We are... a diplomatic mission..."

"If this is a consulate, then where is the..." the boy began, as the wristlink around his arm suddenly gave an audible alarm.

"Rebel ships have entered the system. Repeat: Rebel ships have entered the system."

The child released the Quarren. The mayor immediately collapsed onto the steps, breathless and barely clinging to consciousness.

The TIE droids were scrambling from out of the cruiser. Perhaps the rebels were coming here, which might save him from having to go to them. Turning his head, the cat-earred boy looked up at the stormtrooper nearest him. "Take him away," the young Badawan commanded simply.

Now, how best to prepare for guests?

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Allies: [member="Jerek Morrows"] [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] [member="Jared Starchaser"]
Enemies: [member="Micah"]
Location: In hyperspace

Therapy Command wasn't going to sit around while innocent Mon Calas, or even Quarren, were injured or dying. But she knew that it would be a large-scale undertaking. And yet, if there was one thing she could know from Thyferra, it was just how dangerous medvac business was. Now, she knew those Sithies were trying by any means to evade Therapy Command since Kuat, but just in case she had escorts flying alongside the medvac units being deployed. Probably a limited amount. But every sickbay in the fleet was on full alert, and the medvac transports would need to land somewhere. It would be just inefficient to have shuttles coming back and forth as was the case on Thyferra due to the forest terrain in that case, so as the medvac units assembled by Therapy Command were preparing both weapons and medical supplies, they would need to consult a map of known positions, to ensure that there would be limited damage dealt to them while medvac operations are underway. And, of course, refugee camps must be used to the extent they still exist.

"It's entirely possible we have to face hostiles in orbit while others are doing medvac. Us or someone else. I can feel that we need to render assistance to whoever's going to be there; they are never going to evacuate nearly as many as we need to. Lightspeed!"

OOC: Fleet composition to be disclosed later

 

[Rick Kaloo]

Location: Hyperspace, approaching Mon Calamari
Objective: Avenge the Mon Calamari homeworld
Allies: [member="Cathul Thuku"], [member="Bekk Mag'ra"], [member="Jared Starchaser"], [member="Jerek Morrows"]
Enemies: [member="Micah"]

​

​

Three warships soared through hyperspace, seeking their first engagement since Corellia.​

​

Onboard a repaired and reinforced Pickle Rick, Rick Kaloo himself sat at the bridge. It was hard to imagine that the glasteel windows before him had nearly been shattered in the liberation of Corellia, that the flagship of the Sixth Fleet had taken such heavy damage. Rick would not make the same mistake that had cost him dearly. Pickle Rick was now equipped with powerful molecular shields, immune to the effects of modulation technology deployed by the Sith. They would undoubtedly be looking to finish off Rick's battlecruiser with the same tech, but they would not be as lucky as they were at Corellia.

Flanking Pickle Rick to the left and right were two Twinkie-class light cruisers on escort duty. The goal of the three ships together were to create a disruption, one great enough to allow some of the oppressed citizens to escape, and grant an opening for medical teams to enter the planet. Between the massive guns and extreme defenses provided by Pickle Rick, and the versatility of the cruisers, there would be more than enough distraction.

In his head, Rick repeated the plan to himself, right as his vessels emerged from hyperspace in front of the besieged Mon Calamari homeworld, about fifty kilometers from the nearest ship or station.

 

[Darth Trellux]

Location: Mon Cala Shipyards

Cloven hooves clopped along the metal plating lining the floor of the Command Tower, black and gold cloak billowing out behind the individual as he marched with fierce determination and purpose towards the bridge of the entire orbital station. Behind him flanked two other similarly dressed individuals, lesser members of the Emperor's Saaraishash that had been assigned to him as he inspected the recently annexed territory of the Mon Calamari.

Inquisitor Trellux beamed with pride, his transferral to this portion of the Empire's frontier granted to him by the good graces of the Emperor after he had delivered his prized Pantoran to him. He had accepted the promotion eagerly, knowing that such a charge was a surefire way to rising through the Inquisition's ranks.

On the bridge stood a variety of Imperial officials, but none more striking than the military Prefect of Mon Cala; Legate Lidros Javoatl. A Karkarodon from not-so-distant Karkaris, he and his flock had been given greater authority over the territory of Mon Cala than the Quarren who had allied with the Sith, even though in theory the Prime Minister of the Quarren Nationalist League was the pinnacle of the local authority on Mon Cala. Inquisitor Trellux didn't care for the petty rivalries and politics of Mon Cala, so long as the planet itself submitted to the Emperor's Law.

The Legate turned as he noticed the Inquisitor's arrival, "Ah, Inquisitor Trellux, what an honor it is."

Trellux's ears twitched slightly, "You can drop the charade, Prefect. What's the status of the rogue transmissions that were intercepted from the planet's surface?" Thin lips pulled over dangerously sharp serrated teeth, "We're investigating the origins as we speak, my Lord." Mocking emphasis was placed on the honorific, "And a team has been dispatched to Pisces Base to ascertain the whereabouts of whoever dispatched the encrypted transmission. We should have them in our clutches by day's end."

"You had better, the Emperor does not tolerate rebellion of any kind."

"I assure you, had there been any signs of rebellion we would have stamped it out."

Warning klaxons began to blare on the bridge as unidentified ships exited hyperspace several kilometers away from the station, the bridge's sensor systems enhancing a holographic display of the vessels in question to determine that they were distinctly non-Imperial.

"You obviously have grown lax in your duties, Prefect. Battle stations, prepare to launch fighters!"

[member="Rick Kaloo"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] | [member="Jared Starchaser"] | [member="Jerek Morrows"] | [member="Micah"]​

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Location: Mon Cala orbit - Daena-class Super-Carrier
Allies: [member="Micah"] [member="Evaelyn Zambrano"] [member="Inquisitor Trellux"]
Enemies: [member="Cathul Thuku"] [member="Rick Kaloo"] [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] [member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Jerek Morrows"]

Mon Cala was famous for its shipyards, shipyards now held by the Sith Empire. Those very shipyards would soon fuel the Imperial Armada with even more, even greater ships. All of it another cog in the imperial war-machine, ever expanding, never stopping.

The Daena was present in the system to keep it in line; it and an upkeep-fleet. Mon Cala was a relatively recent conquest after all, and the Sith Empire were not accustomed to leaving new acquisitions to their own devices, particularly not a system with previous, now tattered, ties to the mortal enemy of the Sith, and the Vahla.

But Joycelyn Zambrano was not on the bridge, scowling down upon the planet as it was purged of its last pockets of resistance while composing an internal soliloquy about the inevitability of Sith rule and her future personal ascension to the throne once her father finally found his way to a casket; nor an angst-filled recital of her deepest desire for vengeance against the Jedi made truth by cruelties against the Mon Calamari. Though Zaudraka would have adored the latter.

Instead, she was within the bowels of the ship, letting her fists pound a sandbag while she danced around it with light steps. Her fists darted out in jabs, hooks, crosses, combinations determined by the sway and swing of the bag's motions. All the while, her face covered itself with the spare hand.

Her yellow eyes were focused entirely on the face glued to the bag at least thrice and since shredded as many times.

A moment's pause - And the bag rocked violently in response to the kick. The bottom half swung up, tethered by the chain, and slammed into the ceiling hard enough to crack its surface and let sand pour out.

Joycelyn stopped the bag with her shoulder as it swung back down, and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the wraps on her hands. A pair of assistants rushed over to unhook the bag and replace it with a similar one, then sweep away the leaked sand. While they worked, the giant vahlacanthix took a good, long sip from a canteen of water.

She needed a scrap, and she needed it now.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Location: Pisces Base, surface of Mon Cala
Gear: Cathar Tunic | Lightsaber | Wristlink
NPC Flavoring: Sith Heavy Cruiser (overhead) | TIE Droid Starfighters | Stormtroopers

[ darth lolcat theme ]​

The young Cathar strolled inside of the city hall.

It was a meager office, more befitting of a public servant than a Sith-Imperial governor, but it would do for the moment. There was an impressive collection of books in the mayor's office. Most were Corporate Sector Journal Bestseller list trash, but a few were at least passively interesting. Standing before the large window overlooking the floating city, the kitten casually perused a Tionese treatise on intergalactic finance.

The sound of footsteps prompted the boy to look up from the tome in his hands, only to be greeted by the sight of stormtroopers and Sith-Imperial officers striding into the mayoral suite that the young Sith had taken as his temporary base of operations.

While the subordinates cleared the conference table and began to arrange holo-projectors depicting the current situation in orbit of the planet, the boy casually closed and set the book aside as he made his way toward where the senior ranking military office stood in the doorway.

Genuflecting toward the man, the young acolyte gestured toward a decanter of blood orange juice that was chilling in a bucket of ice. A personal preference that he'd had brought by the Mon Calamari and Quarren that had been pressed into Imperial service. They were not proper servants to be certain, barely fit to be proper slaves, but with rebel ships currently orbiting the planet, this was as good as the boy was going to be able to pull together on such short notice.

When this was over, he'd have slaves flown in from Zygerria. With a proper work force, Pisces Base might actually become useful to his emperor.

"Juice?" the cat-earred boy offered, his manners impeccable as he gestured to indicate the decanter. Then the boy paused, as though just now remembering that he was dealing with adults and not a fellow youngling. Adults had rather poor tastes in refreshments from what the Cathar had observed. "No, you probably prefer coffee or tea..."

The Imperial officer's heels clicked together as the man straightened, giving a slight bow toward the young Sith. "Tea would be lovely," the near-human officer intoned simple.

The tawny-colored youngling gave a snap, ushering in a Mon Calamari secretary who seemed harried as she hastily assembled a tea service for the man.

Hopping up so that he was seated on top of the desk in the room, the feline youngling waited while the fish-eyed woman served the tea. "No, the ginger snaps," the boy uttered, correctly the Mon Calamari when she had moved to put out biscuits. When she had corrected her mis-step and taken her leave, the boy's predatory gaze returned to the officer. "It occurred to me, Captain, that our strategy toward the rebels adopts a false premise."

Seated, the near-human officer held his tea cup in one hand and the saucer in the other. Cocking his head to one side, the man remarked, "I don't believe I follow."

Hopping down from the desk, the youngling casually made his way toward the table. "You've proceeded with the idea that we must make Pisces Base a staging point for an invasion force," the child noted, stoically delving into his own analysis of the actions that the Sith-Imperial Armada had taken since their arrival at the base. Reaching out a hand, the child plucked a stem ginger cookie from the tea service platter. "Every action you've taken has been with that goal in mind. But, that's a self-imposed restriction. We don't need to come up with a plan to invade Aquarius," the boy remarked, before biting into the cookie.

Taking a sip of his tea, the man set the cup aside as he regarded the boy. "All indications are that the rebels we are seeking are there," the officer remarked flatly.

Crumbs lingered around the boy's mouth as he munched on the ginger cookie and gave a nod of acknowledgment. "The belief that a few fathoms of water can shield them from the Sith Emperor is folly," the kitten declared, hopping up so that he was seated on the edge of the table. And within arm's reach of the cookies. "So the people of Aquarius should pay the price for their lack of vision."

The near-human man cocked his head again. "The Emperor desires that Mon Cala be made a more obedient province..."

"Indeed," the boy chirped in agreement. Plucking another cookie from the tray, the boy held it up as he declared happily, "So let Aquarius be the example for other cities."

Leaning back, the man picked up his tea cup and saucer. Holding the cup up, the man silently signalled for the boy to continue his train of thought. "We know that shipments arrive at Aquarius from here," the kitten remarked, the cookie in his hand waving about in the air as he gestured and spoke. "We need only equip one with a proton torpedo warhead."

That last remark clearly had the officer's attention.

"I imagine the sudden decompression at that depth should take care of the rest," the kitten stated, in a very matter-of-fact tone, before taking a bite out of the cookie he'd been holding.

 

[Shade of Decay]

Location: Open sea near Pisces Base, on a hoverskiff.
Allies: [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] [member="Micah"]
Enemies: None engaged.

"You know, your planet is truly lovely," Tsisaar remarked to the Mon Calamari who was piloting the hoverskiff he was riding on. They'd veered a ways out from Pisces Base on this little trip, Tsisaar enjoying the crisp sea breeze. The featureless horizon was also somewhat nice, although his senses were generally drawn towards looking into the water itself, observing the fish and other animals that swam around. "It's a shame about the trouble it took to take it, really; would've been nicer if your government would have just agreed to integrate." The pilot grunted in response, turning the skiff about; they'd gone about as far as they could before having to turn back—the vehicle's power cells would need recharged soon.

"Honestly, if you all would just stop with the rebellious activity, that'd make things much easier for all of us," Tsisaar continued, his tone relaxed. He poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle he had brought along, before gesturing to the other cup he had. "Would you like some?" The pilot shook her head, declining to respond any more. Tsisaar shrugged. "Ah, well. It won't be long before we have to mount some more raids or such to find the more seditious members of your society. I'm sure it'll make for a good example if we dice them apart and feed them to a Krakana, don't you?" The pilot's knuckles grew white as her grip on the controls tightened, though she remained wordless. Beneath his huleppi, Tsisaar smiled somewhat amusedly.

Until his commlink, as well as that of the skiff, began beeping an alarm. "Rebel forces entering the system? Really? How interesting," he mused, looking up at the sky as though he'd be able to see any of the ships that were coming. The Mon Calamari pilot of the skiff, however, released her grip on the controls of the skiff. Claws showing, she lunged at Tsisaar; for his part, the Sith Knight simply stretched out a free hand, a blast of electricity catching the pilot and sending her newly-lifeless corpse careening off into the water. Sitting back down, he took a sip from his cup of tea, Pisces Base just visible off in the distance.

"How regretful," he muttered, looking over at the body bobbing in the water as it slowly drifted away. "You should've at least had some tea first."

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Lying in weight, the pilot knew what he needed to do. The Jensaarai was waiting for the right moment as the fleet was setting up. Four advanced Clawcraft would be able to get through a blockade. The Starchaser knew that he had to make the move and he would be fine. While he was a part of this family, he wasn’t quite the light side proponent that his father was, he wasn’t going to be able to use the Force to the same extent, but he had a few other skills. And the fact that he was prepared? It meant it was going to be good.

“Guard Flight to Leader. We’re going to jump ahead. False transponders are going to be activated and we’ll slip in. Give us a call when you want the ground distraction to begin.”

Mon Calamari was a planet that was clearly a friendly one, on the best of day, but with the Sith, he couldn’t take any chances. The codes his father had provided and showed him how to slice were from the early days of the Sith Empire, but he was confident that the would be able to get in. He started counting down and soon the Clawcraft leapt forward into hyperspace.

The micro-jump didn’t take long and the ships were found outside Mon Cala shortly. Following studied, at least Imperial procedure, Jared took the time to fabricate a situation needing return from a known fallen Imperial Carrier and the need to return. Throwing in some key statements regarding the Jen’ari Empire taking over Csillia and needing refuge, the Sith Empire was happy to oblige. The four clawcraft were given landing protocols for a bay on shipyards. Nodding, it wasn’t where he wanted to go, but it would work for now.

Getting an escort of TIEs and the weapons going down, the Clawcraft began docking and landing procedures.

[member="Inquisitor Trellux"]
[member="Tsisaar Taral"]
[member="Micah"]
[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

[member="Rick Kaloo"]
[member="Cathul Thuku"]
[member="Bekk Mag'ra"]
[member="Jerek Morrows"]

 

[Republic Engineering]

​

The memories of the last few days were fuzzy at best. It felt like I was drunk, although it’d been nearly a decade since such spirits had touched my lips. They say it was a concussion, but I couldn’t recall how I obtained such an injury. The last thing that I could call to mind with any clarity, was that gilded Sun Guard and the poisonous sword he wielded. As I wound up being stitched back together by my own ship, and a Mon Calamari Doctor that managed to pull me aboard; I figured that it was fair to say that I lost, and was lucky enough to escape that despoiled world with my life. Although, what puzzled me the most was how these people - especially the Doctor - managed to get aboard my ship, and how we managed to escape the encroaching Sith-Imperial forces. There were moments that I tried to get the answers from my newfound shipmates, but ended up hurting myself time and again with every attempt -- something about my jaw being wired shut to make sure that it healed properly.

So, as one can imagine, my grunted ventures were spent in vain.

Well, that was until I garnered some feeling in my arms and was able to move my fingers in some semblance of signed language. Then, the story of our daring escape was relayed to me in a bastardized version of basic -- since I couldn’t understand the Doctor’s aquatic, native tongue and the man wanted to thank me for allowing them aboard my vessel. While I couldn’t recall giving them express permission, there was little issue in my mind, as I was just glad that they were able to withdraw to safety.

His story began with the Fall of the Outer Districts, which was where he and the others found me crawling through the streets; battered and broken beyond the threshold of death that would’ve claimed any mortal man. They elected to carry him towards one of the last shuttles that were seeking to escape the planet before the Sith Empire closed the noose. Sadly, their journey there was cut short, as the privately-owned hangar was destroyed during one of the Invader’s strafing runs. That was when I seemingly roused myself from my vegetative state and told these survivors to head towards an outcropping nearby, where my ship laid in waiting. Then, we managed to plow through the closing tendrils of the blockade and lost their pursuers within the forest of celestial bodies that orbited Sep Elopon.

The aforementioned gas giant was the very place where we were currently adrift; running silent and utilizing passive scans to ensure that our presence was shrouded for the time being. It wouldn’t be long before they found us, as it was likely that their search patterns would doubtlessly spread throughout the sector -- but it would be all the time we needed, at least according to the Doctor. It seems the ship had sustained some damage in the fight and needed to be repaired before they were able to traverse the stars once more. I couldn’t quite understand what he meant to say, but it sounded like there was a loose coupling in the hyperdrive coils and some structural fractures around the outer hull.

While I was the furthest thing from a specialist or a comprehensive mechanic, I knew that if such systems were down -- we’d be stuck on realspace propulsion for the time being. It wasn’t the best situation to wake up into, nor was it really the worst either; as there was a chance we could escape, or run into friendly faces as we drifted from one stellar body to another. All that mattered, in the end, was that the people aboard the starship were safe, for the time being, and that they busied themselves with the tasks of ensuring we all remained that way should the Sith triangulate our position.

My health, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.​

​

| [member="Jerek Morrows"] | ​

 

[Cathul Thuku]

"Before anybody accuses us of mass kidnapping, let me make this one thing clear: they will return once they are medically cleared for return, and even then, when the environmental situation warrants it. That said, let's concentrate on those who are severely injured but that can nevertheless be saved - with kolto" Cathul issued one warning before the reversion occurred.

Whatever being medically cleared for return actually meant, not even [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"], [member="Jerek Morrows"] or [member="Jared Starchaser"] would know, or even [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] or [member="Rick Kaloo"]. Hopefully the medvac transponders will actually make it so that the Imps won't be firing at us, she thought, knowing that even red crosses on a white field won't be enough to prevent the medvac units from being fired at, since said markings on the hull are only visible at point-blank or otherwise rather short ranges. Plus the medvac units in use here were otherwise rather run-of-the-mill freighters in passenger configuration whose cabins were partially refitted with medical equipment. As the flotilla of medvac made its reversion alongside its escort complement, Therapy Command received one final set of instructions: weapons hold. This meant that they would not open fire at anybody until they are under attack or in response to a formal order (unlike weapons tight, where confirmation of hostility was enough to open fire). Yet it also meant that ECCM would be put on alert, too, if necessary.

"Scan the area for hostiles, let them come to us, shields up but weapons hold"

Spoiler: Escort fleet

Capital ships:

ANS Recluse (Recusant-X-class light destroyer)
ANS Impugnment (Lothal-II-class artillery carrier)
ANS Evil Rabbit (Krayiss-II-class escort frigate)
ANS Money (Krayiss-II-class escort frigate)

Attack craft:

60 Chiloon-IV fighters (standard configuration)
36 Tsubame torpedo bombers

 

[Jerek Morrows]

"Fidelity, this is Endurance, we read you and are grateful for your cooperation." The answer was short and to the point, but it allowed them to fully coordinate with the other ships to form a safer haven for those Mon Calamari and Rebel survivors who had been on the world when the Sith attacked. [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] spoke with one of the comms officers, but the message was quickly relayed to the Medical team who put the new information to work. "We can spare a few hands to help with relief aboard the Fidelity should you require them."

There was a pause when the channel went quiet.

"Sweep the area for any distress signals," ordered the Chief Medical Officer. "Our top priority is the weak and injured survivors that made it off-world. The extraction teams will give us a heavier workload when they finish on their end, so expedience is crucial." The comms team went to work immediately, extending the reach and breadth of their scans to the fringes of neighboring systems. There was always a chance that an escapee had gone into hiding nearby, and the presence of Sith-Imperial fleets meant that they were not the only ones looking.

"These Imperials are not interested in accusations of War crimes," protested the helmsman. "I want to put the shields to full power as soon as we can."

"Not until we have the refugees secured," Jerek held out a hand. "We won't be able to take anyone aboard when the shields go up, and bringing them up makes us even more of a target to them. Unshielded vessels with a medical designation are low priority targets."

"Jedi Morrows, you worry about getting your team to the surface. I will handle things here," the Medical Officer smiled. "We won't leave anyone behind if we can help it. You have my word."

[member="Arcanus Sunstrider"]

 

[Koda Fett]

DAC​

PISCES BASE​

​

Rebels. They were always going to exist within the shadows of an oppressive Empire that loomed so threateningly above as the brightest of sparks that attempted to ignite the fires of something greater. They could never expect to last; not in a Galaxy such as this. The Sith Empire had too much control, too much power. These Rebels would always be hunted, and they could run, and run, and run, but they would always be found and brought to some cruel approximation of justice. It was the Bounty Hunter, more often than not, that dwelled here amidst the blurred lines between law and lawlessness. Yet, with the barrel of a blaster aimed between your eyes it wasn't the thought of legality that crossed your mind, now was it?

Dac had fallen upon times that were certainly less than desirable. They had come under a new rule, and it did not call for joyous celebration but instead bitter resentment. And deservedly so. Zambrano had exacted his personal vendetta against the planet for reasons Fett could not explain, nor did he find himself particularly interested. Carnifex's personal affairs had not been of his concern, no, only his credits. And they remained plentiful.

It was now that Koda stood opposite of thick glass that separated the interior with the exterior, staring outwards and over the horizon of empty ocean. His Carbine had been held within his grip and it appeared to be venting heat from the barrel, just as the ventilated corpse at his feet had done the same. It was a shame that they had to die, but it were they that chose not to go quietly.

He had stood so idly as he listened, something ringing in his ear; it spoke of additional payments and something far more exhilarating.

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Mon Calamari Space, approaching Orbit.
Vessel: "The Fidelity" Kidem-Class Jedi Patrol Frigate (Kal'vyshde Interceptor within).
Objective: Provide Aide & Evac any/all Civilians from the War-zone.
Allies: [member="Jerek Morrows"], [member="Cathul Thuku"], [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"], [member="Rick Kaloo"], [member="Jared Starchaser"].
Opposition: [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] & [member="Inquisitor Trellux"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Tsisaar Taral"], @Micah.

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"Fidelity, this is Endurance, we read you and are grateful for your cooperation. ​

We can spare a few hands to help with relief aboard the Fidelity should you require them."​

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"So far so good then" Bekk Mag'ra muttered to himself as he glanced over the Frigates primary console looking for anything unusual popping up on sensors. Below decks, the Hangar crews were working alongside the fighter pilots to man and ready the two Sigma-5 Ruusan-class Jedi Interceptor Squadrons. The Kal'vyshde was also stationed below for Bekk's personal use, the likelihood that he would join the other fighters to fend off any evacuating vessels was high, though he could just as well find a means to be an asset on the ground for the fleeing victims of war.

"Valin, take over for me will ya?" Bekk spoke decisively as he removed himself of the Captains seat and turned to gesture to the Primary Officer of the Fidelity, "Appreciate allowing me to step in for a bit but I'm headed to the Hangar, I want those transports good and ready to hit the surface and begin the evac" the Zabrak passed the man and placed a firm hand to his shoulder in confidence, "Will do Master Mag'ra" Valin replied stifly before adopting his typical station.

Bekk had spent a great deal of his life fussing about with tech of varying shapes and sizes. As a youngling, he had been fascinated by stories of star-ships entering into dogfights like any typical young boy often would be, the idea of traveling the universe at immense speeds and being behind the guns of such astonishing firepower often influenced by the holo-vids and the holo-novels that he read in his spare-time outside of training. His Master had always been wary of his youthful nature as a boy, and done a good job to see him educated and tempered as the years had past. Still, that love had followed with him in his years and today he stood as an experienced and qualified tech engineer among the Jedi of the Galaxy.

Today however wasn't about seeking any such novelty excitement he had once adored; The Jedi Knight had come with the one intention of helping those who were in need of it and being downtrodden by political and tyrannical powers larger than they could handle. Bekk knew the reality of such a mission, expecting a fight for they had entered into Sith Space. Once upon a time, the area had been protected by the Silver Jedi Order, though perhaps they'd seen this coming, for they had moved closer towards the Core.

 

[Yaadri Osi-Yyn]

Location: Entering Pisces Base.
Objective: Reclaim what is rightfully his.
Allies: Unsure.

---

Scratch. Scratch... Scratch.

Forgotten, almost. Venthis was unsure of himself, who he even was anymore? His mind was split into countless entities at this point. The ammount of experiments he had performed, rituals. His skin, face, anything that could resemble a person was now cracked, torn and rotting. A dark fabric almost fused into his skin and bone, various spikes emitting from his spine enough to poke out from the fabric, like some sort of monster. Though, it mattered not to him. He was still... partially in control.

He had heard of what the Empire had been up to upon his time away and he was not suprised. His cousin and father and the rest of his family were no doubt slaughtering and pillaging any planet in their way. Though, it was time for Venthis to follow suit and begin to do the same. First of, he had to reclaim a ship he left docked on Mon Calamari, more specifically a very important crystal he left aboard.

Though he had been riding along in a small freighter in which he killed the entirety of the crew, though he was done with this vessel as he no longer needed it. Setting it down inside of the location of his previous ship he would simply wander off, his back and spine snapping and twisting in order to allow him to stand up fully and appear as a humanoid. He continued forwards into the base, eyeing all that dared to stare at the Sith. Before he would dash forwards towards one of the guards who dared to ask "Who the kark are yo-" and before he could finish his sentence, the cloaked figure with glowing crimson eyes would extend his arm towards the guard, out of his wrist a sharpened bone would extend out and pierce through the guard's throat, silencing him.

He wandered down a path, quietly muttering incantations, chuckling shortly after in a diabolic manner. The town hall was before him, he saw the various soldiers and officers, they all would lower their heads and face away from the cloaked 'man' approaching them, wielding a staff made from bone and wood. He would glide up the steps, floating, revealing his feet which were beneath the tattered cloak before which are completely bone, there would be no skin or tattered cloth wasted on covering them as the cloak did.

Entering the hall, he glanced around before listening. He could hear a conversation within an office, clearly labled as the Mayor's office. His body would again shift and snap into place, before he would slowly turn the handle on the door, it clicking before slowly sliding open revealing [member="Micah"] clearly a boy, eating and enjoying himself. Venthis stood in the door way, causing all the surrounding soldiers and officers to scatter, except the high-ranking officer would simply lower his head and stay where he was.

"What are your names?" The fractured man would say, his neck snapping briefly, before he would return back to normal, the bones and various pieces of him beneath the cloak would constantly change and snap into place. "I wish to find shipyard records. I believe I will be able to find them here. I will offer my services in your..." His skeletal arm would emit from the cloak before waving briefly as the Sith attempted to find the correct word. "Predicament."

"Can you help me? In order for me to help you."​

 

[Oros]

Allies: [member="Jerek Morrows"], [member="Bekk Mag'ra"], [member="Cathul Thuku"], [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"], [member="Rick Kaloo"], [member="Jared Starchaser"]
Opposition: [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"], [member="Inquisitor Trellux"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Tsisaar Taral"], [member="Micah"], [member="Venthis Zambrano"]

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The Endurance's comprehensive medical wing was already filled with the screams of the wounded and the dying.

Already they had come across several smaller transports, vessels that had just barely managed to escape the Sith Empire's blockade efforts but had not made it through the razing of their homeworld unscathed. Many had been hurt down on the surface and dragged to safety by their fellow Mon Cal, some were casualties of crippled hulks which had taken enemy fire but still somehow managed to ultimately evade their hunters. The recycled ozone stank of plasma burns, infection, and sanitation scrubs. A small team and doctor bounced frantically back and forth between whole swathes of patients, delegating smaller tasks to their less qualified medical aides.

Oros was among them, maneuvering his life support tank deftly through apparent anarchy, and wherever he drifted examination equipment seemed to rise of its own accord as his naturally powerful psychic talents took the place of humanoid hands. Every so often, his physical form would start to shudder and a glowing light would emanate from the repulsorlift powered atmosphere tank, indicating a particularly grievous injury required a more supernatural level of intervention. Occasionally, his form would wither as he marked off a patient's chart who was beyond saving.

Discordant vibrations of a different nature rippled out across the medical suite, and upon floating over to the far side of the compartment he found that one of the frigate's officers was seeking volunteers among the medical personnel to join the combat teams headed back to Mon Cal for survivors.

I will go, he announced unexpectedly, his thoughts manifesting in the minds of everyone nearby, You will need a trained doctor.

"Master Oros, you can't! What of...your condition? You will be vulnerable!"

My condition? the Celegian echoed back, all too aware what the aide had meant, I am aware of the dangers. But the Force is my ally, and a powerful ally it is.

 

[Samara Raine]

Location: Aboard the medical frigate Endurance
​Objective: Provide medical aid and evacuation to the Dac refugees
Allies: Jedi [member="Jerek Morrows"] [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"] [member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] [member="Cathul Thuku"] [member="Rick Kaloo"]
Enemy: Sith and hired agents TBD
Gear: Healer Robes, medical field pack, lightsaber

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Samara placed a reassuring hand upon a Mon Calamari's shoulder, who was hovering over his injured child laying on a stretcher stacked in the corridor outside the main medbay where the non-life threatening wounded overflow were being treated. His wife had not made it, sadly, and he was very distraught over the thought of losing his little one as well. A soothing wave of the Force would wash over him as the Jedi healer from the Silver Circle spoke.

"Your daughter is going to be okay. Her injuries are healing nicely. You should rest now. She'll need you upon awakening," the honey blonde said offering a caring smile before moving on to the next patient.

"Thank you, doctor," the male aquatic humanoid expressed appreciatively, then he let the nictitating membranes finally slide over his Calamarian eyes hopefully finding some solace in this bit of good news in all his grief.

There were so many refugees... and more feared still on Dac in hiding, sick and in fear for their lives. This family had been found aboard one of the few transports that had been able to flee their battered homeworld after the Sith Empire laid devastation to the Outer Rim water world. Their story and plight was unfortunately all too common after the Sith conquered planets with grim abandon for life.

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I will go, the Celegian Jedi announced unexpectedly, his thoughts manifesting in the minds of everyone nearby, You will need a trained doctor.

"Master Oros, you can't! What of...your condition? You will be vulnerable!"

My condition? he echoed back, all too aware what the aide had meant, I am aware of the dangers. But the Force is my ally, and a powerful ally it is.

The Liann felt the Force nudge her to act and volunteer to go down to the surface. Sam's medical droid companion, Stitcher, would be eager to get out and about rather than being cooped up on the ship.

"My IM-6 and I will go along with Master [member="Oros"]. May the Force be with us all," the golden-haired Knight spoke up with a respectful nod as her sea green orbs gazed over to the 'floating brain'.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Location: Mon Cala orbit - Daena-class Super-Carrier
Allies: [member="Micah"] [member="Evaelyn Zambrano"] [member="Inquisitor Trellux"] [member="Venthis Zambrano"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Tsisaar Taral"]
Enemies: [member="Cathul Thuku"] [member="Rick Kaloo"] [member="Bekk Mag'ra"] [member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Jerek Morrows"] [member="Samara Raine"] [member="Oros"]

While the bag was replaced and Joycelyn wiped her face on a towel, two assistants came over. One was an ensign of the Imperial Armada, clutching a chart. The other was Joycelyn's own seer and priestess to Vahl; Pythia. The blind priestess gestured for the ensign to deliver his report as Joycelyn tossed the towel to the side and crossed her arms over her chest.

"A report?" "Yes, Colonel. According to our sensors, a number of ships are jumping into the system." "Some have issued clearance codes; it is an older code, but it checks out." "But?" "The others have not.The captain is taking defensive positions and preparing for an attack. Should we alarm the ground forces?" "Send the message. Troops on alert."

The situation on Mon Cala was precarious. There were rebels on the surface still, and Sith and imperial legionnaires were flushing them out and putting them down. For this reason, Joycelyn was cautious. She would rather have her troopers on alert to something that turned out to be nothing than let them be taken unawares when there were reported signs of trouble.

Then again, had the Daena not had such extensive surveillance systems, they would be faced with far more questions than they now were.

"And I would remind Captain Ter'Re'Van that our mission is to safeguard Mon Cala, not pursue." "That is what reinforcements is for."

A wicked smile spread on her face as she looked to Pythia and waved the ensign off.

"Pythia. Ready my armour and notify Yaitzun to marshal my personal guard"

The priestess made a curt bow and disappeared to perform her duties. Joycelyn followed soon after, stretching her wrists and arms, and unwrapping the wrist-wraps. The ghostly form of Yaitzun passing her with a courtly bow as she stepped into her chamber. Alk and Ilke perked up and looked up at her while Pythia and a few of Joycelyn's handmaidens had already started bringing out the black, plate armour. Pythia herself held the sheathed sithsword, Zaudraka.

"Today, you will taste blood again."