The Rebel Faction

Security aboard the Midas is handled by two distinctly different entities. As with a majority of the Union's operations, necrotroopers, disposable and numerous, due a majority of the work. The Midas had tens of thousands of active necrotroopers, employed both in security and other essential tasks aboard the hulking vessel. In addition to this standard compliment, several dormitories areas that would have been reserved for "live" crew had been converted to "cold storage" holding facilities, where tens of thousands of additional necrotroopers could be kept, much like battle droids on racks. However, unlike most Union vessels, the Midas also boasted a large compliment of non-necrotrooper personnel. These "Union Mercenaries" were highly trained, well-paid professional soldiers (and other provided essential tasks like gunnery or engine maintenance) and provided the Union with an added capacity that the necrotroopers, as versatile as they were, couldn't fulfill.

So as thousands of additional necrotroopers were "thawed" and readied for use in the bowels of the ship, a much more important group was mobilizing and moving to intercept the Azguardian interlopers.

The Midas was the Union's mobile command center and often the meeting ground of the Union's most prominent members, the Committee. As such, precautions had been taken for all eventualities, including the one that was no facing the ship. Centurion teams were fast response units of Union mercenaries who had received intensive shipboard fighting training. Unlike the majority of Union mercs, they carried melee weapons more suited to fighting in close quarters in addition to heavy repeating blaster rifles. In place of berets and black combat suits they wore clear-visored helmets and a drab gray armor. Many carried large portable shields like those employed by riot police, to create cover in otherwise open hallways.

The Centurion teams were kept on duty very close to their designated response areas, and had shifts on alert constantly when in combat situations, so they had been able to move very quickly to a few critical areas of the ship that intruders were likely to target:

Engines, communication control center, primary reactor core, weapons targeting matrix, the bridge.


And thus the battle lines were drawn.



The door to Tir Esias's quarters slid closed silently. A moment later, with a dull thud, a pair of blast doors closed over the entryway, further securing Tir from harm.

The room was quiet. Layers of insulation and extra armor around the bulkheads of his quarters meant that not even the distant hum of the Midas engines reached Tir's extra sensitive ears.

Tir took a moment, seating himself comfortably in a plush chair near the center of the outer sanctum of his quarters. He felt himself sinking into the chair, all the tension and pressure that had been building up in his body and mind during the course of the current battle slowly dissipating. After a few seconds of this soothing relaxation, Tir Esias began tapping into the infinite power of the force, drawing in more and more of the mythical power.

Then Tir extended his senses.

The Midas was teeming with life, an inferno of Force energy when contrasted against the empty vacuum that surrounded it. There were certain pockets of the ship that shone with a brilliant radiance, notably the bridge but in other pockets as well... but much of the ship glowed like embers, radiating a definite heat that felt somewhat muted. This was a familiar signature for Tir to sense, the multitude of thousands of dim presences- the hordes of necrotroopers being released from cold storage combined with the thousands already crewing the ship.

The Azguards had no idea what they had gotten themselves into.

Tir gathered his strength, and then delved into the supple minds of the necrotroopers...


The turbolifts were still out of commission.

Qive didn't mind too much. Even though he was hoofing it up rarely used emergency stairwells that creaked with every step he took, he saw the task as a sort of warm-up. He was getting the adrenaline flowing, and his muscles nice and relaxed. His pace had picked up to a light jog... though he dared not test the structural integrity of the staircases too much.

Qive had seen a lot in his lifetime. He had faced opponents from all across the galaxy, including a good number who had long since vanished into the depths of time. He had fought mandalorians, clone troopers, and the fabled Jedi. He wasn't quite undefeated in combat, but his track record was impressive to say the least.

But Qive had never fought an Azguard.

He seen them, albeit only as a holographic generation, and had absorbed as much information about this fabled race of warriors, in anticipation of meeting them in combat. But reading accounts of how an enemy fights is one thing; facing them in combat is another.

Qive looked up at the wall as passed a small landing. He was still a few levels from the bridge, where he had been ordered to enhance the defensive position created by the Centurion team. He increased his pace. The stairs creaked ominously in response.

Qive only hoped the highly trained mercs didn't finish off the intruders before he arrived. He was very excited to engage the best the Galactic Coalition had to offer in open combat.

With that thought, he began taking the steps 4 at a time.

The turbolift doors opened to the enemy bridge, and was immediately peppered with enemy fire. A torrent of red lasers ripped up the inside of the little tube until wall panels crumpled and cables snapped. Finally, the startled bridge crew paused to see the effects of their fire.

The turbolift was empty. With a groan and a creak, it began to break apart. Finally, the damage getting to it at a critical level, the turbolift dropped away far below with a distant thud.

The Centurions that guarded the bridge didn't flinch. Their eyes remained fixed on the turbolift tube. The Azguards on the stairs were too far to threaten them yet anyways.

Another tense minute passed, before finally, Quive lowered his weapon. "It's a decoy, return to your stations."

It took just a moment longer for the trap to spring. With a swing, the Azguard commander appeared from above - after having grabbed ahold of an elevator anchor in the roof of the tunnel before the turbolift had fallen away.

Sublime reflexes took over, and Centurion rifles swung to the fore, spitting fire at the bellowing giant. Yolem landed feet first on a Centurion trooper, crushing him against a control panel before lashing out with his foot to send a second one flying back. Rounds tore into his armor, but only served to enrage Yolem further.

In his wake, Azguards hurled themselves down from the turbolift tube, all serrated claws and dripping, venemous fangs. Centurions fought with a cold, controlled precision that contrasted against the savagery of the Azguard warriors, turning the small bridge into a tight melee wrapped in an disturbing silence.

Through the blood-red haze of his trance, Yolem saw Quive knock back an Azguardian as though he were a rag-doll - indeed, the mighty creature was the only thing standing that came close to an Azguardian in strength and statue.

With a roar, Yolem dived through the air heedless of the blaster marks that had torn his intricate armor to shreds. The bound knocked him and his foe together, rolling across the ground, striking and slashing.

The Gen'dai warrior was strange and alien to Yolem, a sticky, goopy, mass that came together to form a fierce opponant. Despite this, the Azguardian managed to pin the writhing beast to the ground with his serrated claws long enough to hammer it repeatedly over the pseudopod-like head, screaming and shrieking as he did so. Finally, the creature stopped moving, a sign Yolem took to say he had won. Sucking down deep, rasping breaths, Yolem stood back up.

The bridge was a horrible mess of blood.

The beautiful armor of the Azguardian soldiers, which had once represented unsullied warrior-hood, now dripped with blood both foe and friendly. No warrior was unscathed, and not all were standing. Still, the enemy had yet to learn a critical lesson about the Azguards - meeting them blade for blade was a futile thing.

Spitting a mouthful of spit and blood, Yolem examined those controls not scorched to bits in the battle. "Take command," he barked. "We have but minutes until we are swarmed by enemy reinforcements, and we must be out before then!"


Across the wide spaces of the ship's reactor core, bolts whizzed and men ran. On all sides, Necrotroopers tried to close ranks and rush the small squad of Azguards who had to fend off that tide with one hand and the Centurion defenders with the other.

"They're trying to destroy the generator! Stop them!" roared a Centurion as he spewed fire at the White Knight leading the attack. The White Knight, a shimmering form leaping with unnatural grace and speed, trapized about the battlefield before landing on the other side of the Centurion.

"No," he hissed. The White Knight drove six inches of serrated bone through the man's spine. "This reactor is now ours."

With a short grunt, he hefted the struggling man over his head and hurled him into the advancing wave of Necrotroopers, barrling them over. With the way clear, the Azguards formed a defensive perimeter around the reactor, ducking behind what cover there was as the enemy resumed firing.

"Hold the reactor!" the Knight shouted to his troops, waving a bloodied sword through sheets of laser fire. "The ship must remain operational!"


The last team battered at the blast door, trying to drive through it. Unfortunately, the ship's builders had splurged on some of the finest equipment, and breaking through was proving difficult.

The White Knight in charge of this detatchment was getting frustrated. She growled as a second explosive charge failed to crack the doorway. "We haven't time for this! More Necrotroopers will be here soon."

The soldiers simply shrugged. "That was our last explosive," remarked one. "I'm out of ideas."

Frustrated, the White Knight jammed her sword through the meeting point between the doors. With an all-mighty twist, they cracked apart. Quickly, two soldiers rushed forwards to pull on either sides, tearing the doors open and startling the defenders of the hyperdrive on the other side.

Shortly therafter, the Azguards sat amongst the torn corpses of terrified technicians and ill-prepared Necrotroopers. One of the troopers was examining the blood-splattered hyperdrive with a critical eye.

"It seems in working order to me..." he murmured. "It should be okay."

"Good," replied the Knight, as she wiped the blood from her blade. "We hold this position then, until we receive the signal."


"How are we doing?" asked Yolem, looking at Tammar far below.

"The overrides have been bypassed," replied a trooper manning a console. "The ship's core will overheat at our command."

"Good, now set the timer and shut down the work station." Yolem readjusted the straps on his gauntlet where they had come loose in the fight. "What about the enemy?"

Another trooper at the staircase looked down the stairwell. "Approaching soon, sir. The staircase sways with their numbers."

"Excellent." Yolem pulled the gauntlet on tight. "We won't have much longer before a command override, so give me communications."

"Communications are on, sir."

With that, Yolem stood to attention in the middle of an enemy bridge, ankle-deep in the dead. In the language of the Azguards, he barked "Troopers! Zero, zero, zero! Now!"

"Cut communications," he muttered, and the trooper did so. "Now set the timer."

"Timer is set, sir. Disastrous system crash and power failure in twenty five."

"All right, listen up!" Yolem turned to address his weary troops. "Our orders are as follows! Get the hell out of here! Understood?"

The troopers barked back, and saluted. Smiling warmly, Yolem nodded. "Good."

The Azguardians descended the Turbolift chute by rappel line, two at a time. As Yolem prepared to go last, he opened the door to the stairwell. The Necrotroopers were close enough to take potshots now, but they continued to hustle forwards. With the slightest smile, Yolem drew his sword and slashed the supports, causing the top of the stairs to tear loose.

As it twisted free, the bolts holding up the second segment of stairs broke free as well, and so forth all the way down. Necrotroopers freefell from the top floor all the way down, colliding and collapsing as a black tide. Not taking a moment longer to admire his handiwork, Yolem leapt back into the bridge and down the rappel lines.

The Azguardian strike team barreled down the hall, like a force of nature difficult to contain. Not that escape was a problem, as most of the enemy had been summoned to retake the bridge - a difficult prospect now that the stairs and the turbolift were gone.

By the time they had followed their route back to the hangar bay, they had left pursuers far behind.

Yolem threw open the side door to the hanger and slipped inside, wary of potential enemy attack. Indeed, some still remained guarding the shattered remains of the self-destructed Stealth Intruder.

Oh yeah... thought Yolem, I had it destroyed. How were we going to get out of here again?

As if to answer his question, an explosion rocked the hangar as Orion's shuttle suddenly came to life and lifted off the hanger floor. The enemy, startled, was crushed by an Azguard ambush from behind. Yolem and his troops filed out into the hanger bay, and Yolem could only pray he was right about who was flying that shuttle.

The ship's loudspeakers crackled to life as it stared Yolem down. "Figure finding you here? I thought you'd be dead by now!" It was Orion, who was concealing a distinct tone of relief. "How long have we got?"

"Perhaps five minutes," Yolem shouted in response. "Maybe less. We need to get aboard."

"That you do," said Orion, who opened up the rear boarding ramp. Yolem gestured for his troops to board, taking a quick headcount.

Two White Knights passed him by, bowing. "Our missions were a success, despite casualties," replied one of the Knights. "All of our dead were incinerated on-site, as far as we know."

"Good, good," murmured Yolem, distracted. "Get aboard, we're running out of time.

Satisfied that everyone who had survived was aboard, Yolem climbed after his men. Everyone - from those who had set the distraction explosives around the reactor, to the team who captured the hyperdrive, to the bridge-assault team - had known that zero, zero, zero was the retreat call, and had acted. Even so, the empty spaces in the ship's hold were disqueiting.

"We have but minutes left," Yolem said to Orion as he sat in the copilot's seat. "We must hurry."

"Keep yer pants on," murmured Orion, as he maneauvered the shuttle out the hangar. "We're getting a lot of potshots."

Despite the fire of angry Necrotroopers scorching the hull, the shuttle managed to make space and tore away from the SSD. The Midas's guns warmed up to annihilate the errant shuttle, zeroing in in seconds.

When all at last seemed lost and those cannons began to charge up, quite suddenly, the ship shuddered and shook. The guns went limp and the glow of a thousand lights flickered and dimmed. Inside, ship safeties would be struggling to restore basic life support, let alone weapons or shields. The enemy ship had effectively been knocked out of commission.

A couple seconds passed before Yolem spoke. "Are we clear?"

Orion let go of the shuttle controls, and leaned back in his chair. "I do believe we are..." he felt fifty years older than when the day began, and he'd been old enough to begin with.

"Excellent." With inexhaustable energy, Yolem stood to attention. "In that case, I hearby take command of the defence of Tammar. We shall immediately deal with this threat orbiting your world, get to work in establish a perimeter around the area, and set up an interdiction field to prevent repeat incidences. Does this meet with your approval, commander?"

Orion smiled, and let out a sigh. "Yes it does, Yolem." He was weary, but the old Tammarian managed to get to his feet. He extended a hand to Yolem "And also, thanks."

Somewhat surprised, Yolem shook Orion's hand. "It was only our duty, brave citizen of the Coalition. We live to serve."

Orion laughed heartily and slapped Yolem on the back. "Sure, whatever. Come on, there's going to be a lot more serving before this day is through, my Dominator's a mess and there's more wreckage out there than a toydarian's dresser. Let's get to it."