The Rebel Faction

The Second Division of the New Republic fleet burst out of hyperspace on the outskirts of the Corellian system. Gash was known for his very particular style of jump- the use of an outer planet in a solar system as a hyperspace anchor. Typically deemed too dangerous, the Jedi Outcast favoured it heavily- while other fleets popped out far outside the system and rode in on sublight engines, he burst into a system quickly.

Perfect for an ambush, or for beating Douglas Skywalker into Corellia.

Gash hid a smile underneath his hood. While most of his officers found him wearing his pitch-dark navy robe and green cloak on the bridge of his command vessel extremely odd, but that was part of the plan. Mystique was a great way to make your words hold sway- commanders who spoke too often lost the rapt attention with which Gash's officers fixed him.

Even when scared to death his jump tactics would get them killed.

'It, er... worked, sir. Em... again.'

"Yes, so I see. My intent is actually not to kill my crew and rip Xylon's fleet to shreds, you know- have a little faith.

"Communications officer."

The pale, skinny man jumped at being addressed. He looked at if he spent too much time in front of a holoscreen- and from what Gash had seen of him, he never removed his earphones.

'What- oh, yes sir?'

"Please contact the Division, and order them to halt progress here. Captain, move us into proper comm range, please; full speed."

The two officers nodded, and set about their tasks. Within minutes, he was given the cue from the captain.

"Comm officer? Open a channel to Mr. Hexyra."

'Yessir.'

"Xylon? Orders?"

'There was an... attack, of some sort, or so it seems. By The New Order. The fleet is on the move... to the following co-ordinates. Transmitting now.'

"That's- yes, I understand."

'We should move...'

"...now, yes. You heard the man, people. Let's move it."

And within minutes, he'd relocated back to the edge of the system, and jumped for the New Order world.

The New Alliance was delivered a privatly encoded communique from the Echo squadron. Intended for vonta with a priority code on it, it fell on to the TNA's head of the Freedom guard Greyy Trespe to answer the comunique for her.

She had left some time ago for private travels to Dantooine on bussiness as a jedi and not a opperative of TNA. She took a ship and some personel all sworn to secrecy on there mission, and for the duration of this these travels their responsibilities to the New Alliance.

He sent his own private communique to the Echos in response.

"Echo squadron, this is Greyy Trespe captain of the New Alliance Freedom guard force responding for Echo 12, Vonta Horn. Due to responsibilities to the jedi order she is unable to attend to her responsibilitys. She has embark on a secret mission, Jedi in nature, to Location: ALpha-1-zete- blanca-6-7-Delta-Bantha Puddu (Alpha and on the planet coordinates in code namely Dantooine, Bantha Puddu-the specific space port she is at.). If you need to get in touch she says you know how to. Trespe over and out."

Vonta had put all things aside for this mission. Leaving him to juggle her responsibilities and his own. He looked forward to when she would return.

"How’s your kelp Khurgee?"

Cronus wrapped a piece of the salivating green around his fork, and with brisk and enthusiastic motion, set the morsel down his throat. Khurgee looked a bit uneasy and disgusted, so Adalric assumed. He poked the vegetables with his utensils, eyeing it wearily as if the seaweed would lurch at him to strike. With a sign of defeat, he set his wares down upon the table.

"Sorry sir, but my stomach doesn’t accept anything without tongue’s."

Adalric smirked chillingly. Setting his own ware on the table. Propping his elbows on the surface, he swiped his napkin across his face.

"That’s alright my friend, I didn’t much prefer the meal myself."

Motioning towards the waitress to replace their plates, the young hand maiden efficiently took their greasily meals from themselves and scurried from the room.

"I want you to prepare a certain transmission package for me."

Khurgee raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Of course sir, anything in particular."

Adalric nodded, though his gaze seemed to tear through the bulkheads staring for a lurking enemy.

"Indeed. I want the specifications to be clear."

Khurgee nodded in accord, and took form his breast pocket a recording cylinder, and thumbed the activation stud.

"Precede sir."

Cronus took some time to prepare a thought.

"Encrypted package to be set to the target coordinates of Bastion, Garqi, Dantooine, and Helska. Send it on a tacheon frequency. Contents are to be a recall of reinforcements to the Muunilinst system. Address the package to Simon Kaine, Chris Liberi, Phalanx Allger, and Daemon Hyfe."

Khurgee understood the proposition.

"A failsafe in case we’re in dire need?"

Adalric nodded. But there were further implications.

"Also, prepare a security compact addressed on the package."

"Specifications?"

"When you were in the academy Khurgee, did you ever learn advanced chemistry for transmission security?"

Khurgee shrugged in acknowledgment.

"Good... if the instructors taught something of transmission secutiry, it would have been a loop back feed?"

"Yes. It’s quite standard in large-scale corporations, though I don’t think the Empire ever employed its use. If I recall… simply an away notice to the transmission send notifying that sender that the transmission was received by a recipient."

Khurgee paused a moment before continuing.

"The loop back feed could be programmed to identify the correct recipient, be if the situation were that the feed was programmed to recognize identification codes, bio signatures, voice activation audio signals, frequencies… anything."

"Attach that very compact to the transmission package."

"Very good sir, shall that be all?"

Cronus smirked deviously.

"About the loop back feed. Have the compact only open the package if provided with the standardized security symbols. The recipients of the package all have classified tabs on the codes. And provide our Orbital Relay Station with a copy or the transmission."

"Yes sir."

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> Hours Thereafter<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

"Red alert, all crewers to stations!"

Cronus slid with ease into the Tactical Command Console, keying in for voice recognition, as CORE pulled a data stream file into the hologram pod. The BAC projected an immense task force exiting from hyperspace thousands of klicks from their position, and closing rapidly.

"Relay, get me an infrared scan on those approaching vessels, CORE give me an identification readout."

Before CORE could reply with a data fax, a voice rang out from Relay department.

"Sir, New Republic authorities. Fire Eagle defensive formation, closing at minimal sub light speed, ETA to our position, twenty minutes!"

Cronus reacted to the information.

"Khurgee, launch the transmission package."

Khurgee reacted from Helm department, coordinating the syndicate task force into a tight cover formation.

"Done before ordered sir."

Cronus asked in stipulation.

"Have they raised jamming systems?"

Relay department responded immediately.

"<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Bellicose<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> responds in confirmation, though their systems haven’t reached the Orbital Relay Station."

Khurgee hesitated, but with Cronus delay of action, sped up the pace.

"Launch the executive order for the Orbital Relay Station to go ahead and eject the transmission. I repeat, launch executive epsilon."

At once, Gunnery Department responded by releasing a barrage of ballistics streaking in an erratic formation towards the Orbital Relay Station, then dispersing in a brilliant flame of light klicks away… the signal for the civilians to launch the transmission package. An equal signal was sent back towards the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Blaze of Glory<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. A small message canister was ejected towards the destroyer’s vector, and similarly, exploded in a ball of flame. Khurgee smiled.

"Sir, expect reinforcements soon."

"Understood lieutenant. Helm, give instructions for our destroyers to pick up their sub light engines to mark nine and drive towards different vectoring points in the center of the enemy’s formation. We may be able to create some collateral damage. Wait for my signal on that order."

Though Adalric was oblivious to the report, he at once sounded orders to Gunnery, Relay, Docking, and Helm department.

"Docking, launch a cover fighter screen, all ships, dump any craft with a hyper drive to belay us a exit vector, should the time come. Gunnery raises Particle and Energy dampeners, charge up capacitors, and flood all ballistics tubes. Helm plot us an astrogation course to the Carida system. Relay, scramble all frequencies but our those in use by our fighters."

He abruptly stood up, his eyes gazing with a menacing vehement towards the invaders.

"Lets create some chaos."

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> Dantooine<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->


The quiet time before battle is like the odd silence before a passionate kiss. It was beyond doubt that the glories of battle would spill forth in abundance in the days to come, yet Hyfe could but wince at the thought of the down-time of brooding and waiting before hostilities commenced.

It was torment.

It was torture.

And then but for loves sweet embrace.



"Bnef nlle," an officer remarked in Sullustan.

"Ol'val, min dul'skal, ahn guld domina," another.

High Admiral Hyfe recognized the Old Corellian dialect as Commander Hayt uttered these words. "May fate be with you," he knew them to mean.

The timer was counting down. The canvas of star-studded space shone through the viewport, tantalizing the crew of the [i[Earl Jaw. Space beckoned them, and as their imminent jump to the New Orders aid neared, suspense grew in the hearts of the bridge crew.

"Empires do not suffer emptiness of purpose at the time of their creation. It is when they have become established that aims are lost and replaced by vague ritual," The Admiral intoned. "This shall not be."

The bridge contemplated his words.

The timer was counting down.

Silence.

"A wise man once said: 'What do you despise? For this you are truly known.'"

"The galaxy shall remember our name for eternity, gentlemen."


Sentinel Fleet's 3rd Division leapt to hyperspace.

OOC: Are you telling me your NR intelligence bureau, run by the unarguably obtuse Mr. "Skywalker", is so sophisticated that it's keeping tabs on secure Imperial production yards, and knows the exact date of completion on the Empire's most classified, and most powerful weapon of war? Just how did you happen to come across this information without a known IC RP by the NR? Perhaps you just didn't give it a second thought. The New Order doesn't claim to know the completion dates of NR ships. Hell, we can't even figure out what your manifest is, nor where you build your ships. I haven't even figured out what frickin BOARD the elusive NR is using. Yet you know we are building a "mass weapon", where we are building it, the exact dates, and apparently TIMES of completion of our Eclipse-Class Super Star Destroyer!?

Cheerio, you trigger happy farm-boys!

Prepare to meet the wraith of the Empire, or at least the wraith of us "united, down-to-earth members that no longer even have a leader and must work together to make some kind of f*cking point and see the god damned light".

En-Taro "Exercon", indeed!

Edit: Thank you, Hex old boy.

Edit: And thank you, Han. Your name matters oh-so-much to me, considering you probably spell it wrong even more often than I, and it's your own damn name.


IC:



An emergency contingency plan had been reached, and all hands were ready aboard the Earl Jaw.

The 26-shipped Division hurtled through hyperspace lanes, primed for war.

The hangars were fully-equipped with various TIE-model fighters. The Fleet's weapons were operating at maximum capacity. Shields, sensors, comms, grav wells, engines. Everything working at peak, Imperial performance.

Sentinel Fleet 3rd Division was composed of an ungainly lot of battleships. Perfect specimens of Imperial performance, yes, but not your average Armada. The division was composed of several different ships of whose likes of which the NR was sure to have never seen before.

The New Order's Attack-Class Carrier Sphere, for one, would come as quite a surprise. 1600 meters of spherical transparisteel, with hundreds of TIE Devils swarming out of her bowels.

The Penetrator-Class Assault Cruiser, primarily used for ground assault and takeovers, but an exceptional performer in space combat none-the-less.

And then over a dozen high-caliber support craft. Fire-Class Light Frigates that would give hell to the NR forces, pummeling away at them with unexpected strength, and unheard-of speed. Interdiction Pickets, and oh were there lot's of them.

Of course, along with all this were some familiar names as well, dreaded Imperial battle ships: Dreadnaughts, Imperial-Class Destroyers, Victory-Class Destroyers.

And to command it all was the High Admiral Hyfe. Practiced tactical genius of 45 years. He'd grown accustomed to the Earl Jaw after several months of assignment. Anguish was sure to befall his opponent.



"Sir?" Captain Davin Essian inclined politely, much more so than usually.

The High Admiral eyed him skeptically. Courtesy as a result of battle stress? An odd one indeed. Cool, collected behavior usually only comes from a seasoned veteran. Perhaps Essian was developing faster than he had anticipated.

"Helm reports reversion in 5 minutes, sir."

Hyfe nodded, his eyes penetrating the stare of Captain Essian. "Very well."

At least that's what the Captain thought he had heard. As the Admirals gaze meet his, he could only attempt to recall whether the words had actually ever been spoken, or it was just that sense of "knowing" that had seemed to be growing on him lately.

The Admiral asked Essian to put him on the ship wide comm, to address the ship at large, and once it had been done, he began to speak.

"This is the High Admiral," he began, with straight face.

"The New Order thanks you. It thanks you, for the Empire as a whole knows that defeat is NOT possible.

It is said that the concept of progress acts as a protective mechanism to shield us from the terrors of the futures. These "terrors" spoken of, to us, in these dire circumstances, are but children amassing fleets and striking at the sovereignty of our mighty order.

'How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him.' This treacherous act has been long in coming. And we act surprised. We act started, worried that the Imperial line will be shattered, and the glory that we have always and WILL always know shall be lost.

Some say that people cling to Imperial leadership because space is infinite. They feel lonely without a unifying symbol. For a lonely people the Empire is a definite place. They can turn toward it and say: 'See, there it is. It makes us one.'"

Daemon Hyfe paused.

"… It makes us one."

"We the Empire shall continue to thrive as one, unifying this galaxy. We have brought order to a place where none existed.

The brave men, living and dead, who will have struggled here will have consecrated this great field of battle, far above our poor power to add or detract. The Galaxy will little note, nor long remember what I say here, but indeed, it shall never forget what we do here.

From those honored dead, whose spirits dwell among us and urge us to further glory, we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that our dead shall not have died in vain, that our order shall not perish from this great galaxy.

The Empire thanks you today for your deeds. I thank you today for your deeds. Let it be known that those who oppose our ascension shall everlastingly perish, the earth from which they spawn salted and razed.

Be bloody, bold and resolute. With each new battle, new widows howl and new orphans cry."