The Rebel Faction

The bridge of an Imperial Super Star Destroyer is quite a sight indeed - a multi-level command sanction of what is undoubtedly one of the galaxy's most powerful warships in existence. It is the heart of the New Order’s grand war machine; truly an Imperial icon, demonstrating the Empire’s full power and domination over the galaxy.

Dozens of comm stations, nav stations, sensor readouts, and engineering monitors boasted top-of-the-line Imperial Navy equipment, and the highly trained officers working the bridge brought out the best in these advanced technical systems.

Crewer after crewer occupied the bustling lower level pit beneath the command walkway down which the High Admiral strode. Each of the young officers attempted to hide their curious glances up at him by busying themselves with their various duties as he walked by.

High Admiral Daemon Hyfe finished his observatory sweep of the central crew pit, coming to a halt at the main view port, near the end of the command walkway. He straightened his poise as he brought his attention in full to the middle-aged man standing perfectly erect before him.

The man facing him looked over Daemon's spotless uniform, noting the epaulets upon his shoulders, the full rectangular rank bar on his left breast, and, at last, the new medal of service to the Empire upon his breast, hanging notably beneath the Admirals rank bar. Essian letting a sincere smile etch itself upon his face. "Congratulations, High Admiral," the man said respectfully.

"Thank you, Captain," Daemon replied evenly to the officer.

Davin Essian, the Captain of the Super Star Destroyer <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Pandemonium<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> was a middle-aged man of medium build. His deep eyes of shimmering blue looked on with a calculation in the glance that seemed to weigh everything in sight. A roguish scar could be seen through his neatly trimmed beard, and the mild aging lines and touch of gray ebbing into this thick black hair hinted at many years of loyal Imperial service.

"Anything to report?" Daemon asked, quickly straying from the subject of the award presented to him for his dutiful, if not inane, service at Muunilist.

"Nothing, sir. All ships continue to report in at the designated time and are remaining in standard formation, awaiting orders. No problems have been reported," Essian assured him with his usual air confidence.

"Good," the Admiral replied, pausing to observe the movement on the bridge before continuing. "Imperial High command has given us a new assignment," Daemon announced, sparking the Captain's interest, as well as the interest of several other nearby duty officers within close enough range to hear their discussion. The nearby crewers stood animated for a moment, and then quickly returned to their work as they realized they had just been exposed for possible blatant eavesdropping. The Admiral merely smirked shrewdly.

Essian paused for a moment, but then his voice rang out eagerly: "What is it?" adding a weak 'sir' to the end of his question a fraction of a second later, after realizing he had been caught up in the excitement as well.

"The occupation of Dubrillion, and it's twin planet, Destrillion. A clean takeover for the Empire," the High Admiral announced, matter-of-factly.

Aboard the Star Destroyer <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Victory<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->



"...the occupation losses in themselves would strip the Empire of more than half of it's total ground forces."


General Simon Kaine rubbed his eyes in a rather tired fashion as he both listened to the Imperial Intelligence Officers Prep Report as well as the Naval Information data pads.

Naval strategy was a bit different than ground strategy but not by much. The same concepts prevailed in that a good commander needed to not only know what his forces were and could do but that of the enemy's.

Still, on paper, they were ships...but in reality, machines crewed by thousands...

"Alright," he started, interrupting the Intel Officer. "Let's not talk about a full occupation, but rather, simply, the destruction of their military assets."


"Simply?" murmured Ciscero, in mock indignation. "Their fleets are larger than we originally thought, General and they've formed protective alliances."

"Their fleets are not the issue. We can match them ship for ship if we have too..." Captain Chandler volunteered. "The Imperial Production Facilities are geared for maximum output."

"I need an attack vector, Ciscero..."

"Perhaps...." The Intel Officer suddenly stood up, pacing wildly. "The Iron Fist Fleet may be the opening we need."

"Sir," Colonel Sveli spoke softly, rubbing his mustache thoughtfully. "The Moffs may feel threatened by our inquiries."

"Colonel, our job is to protect the Empire. Period. We cannot do that by simply waiting for the enemy to come to us."

"We know that, General," Colonel Quinn spoke, "But perhaps the politicians don't."

"Chandrilla came under attack by The New Alliance and it's allies and it won't be long until the welps get cocky."

"Defense is on everybody's mind right now, including the Senate's."

"Forget the Senate. Just pray the military budget remains fat." the Intel Officer remarked.

"If not, there's always your 'contact' on Muunilist, right sir?" Chandler asked Kaine rather innocently.

The General laughed a bit uncomfortably at the subject.

The meeting was interrupted by a communication officer signalling to enter.

"Come," the General ordered.

"Encrypted message from High Admiral Hyfe, sir." handing the pad to the General.

"Hyfe?" Kaine asked in surprise. It had been close to a year since they had collaborated together.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Speaking of Muunilist<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, he thought wryly.

The General found Hyfe to be extremely competent and good man to have at one's side. In fact, they had both received promotions for their last mission together.

"I thought he was on Bastion?" inquired Ciscero, almost as if to himself.

"So there <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> are<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> some things that Imperial Intelligence doesn't know?" Kaine asked dryly.

Ciscero smirked at the remark and the group waited for the General to finish the communique.

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> 38 minutes later...<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

The ready room aboard the Super Star Destroyer <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Pandemonium<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> seemed cramped, tiny in comparison to the grandeur of the bridge from which he had just come. Perhaps that was partly due to the room’s low roof structure or it's lack of view ports, High Admiral Hyfe noted. This seemingly cramped atmosphere actually discredited the room’s moderate size.

It was a simple 10 by 15 meter room with a large oval table taking up most of the available space. A narrow counter mounted on the far wall held various art pieces, with bottles containing some of the High Admiral's favorite vintage alcoholic beverages scattered amongst the sculptures and other ornamental pieces.

A small silver tray had been placed in the middle of the central table before the rooms occupants hand began to gather. It held an intricately designed glass decanter containing a fruity choholl, most likely Cassadran liquor, Daemon decided from its scent. Hyfe could smell the liquor from his seat at the far head of the table with ease.

Several small snifters resided aside the decanter, a few of the glasses having taken up positions in front of some of the occupants seated at the table, letting him know that they had already helped themselves. He took note of those who had.

The men (and woman) in the room were each engaged in small talk, divided into parties of two or three, discussing things to their interest. Daemon knew he could isolate and listen in on the conversation of any of the groups if he so desired, but their private chatter was of no particular interest to him.

The artificial lights casting the faint glow around the ready room hummed in an almost imperceptive manner. It was a faint, high-pitched purring like that of a baby Noghri in pain. The Admiral found the sound to be rather disturbing, though he doubted the other occupants even noticed it.

Closing his eyes into narrow slits of concentration, he isolated the irritating sound in his mind, carefully blocking it out in the ways of his training. So limited a sense as hearing could easily be manipulated in such a way, as Daemon had come to discover long ago.

As his mind came back to the reality of the ready room and the situation at hand, he let his posture relax ever so slightly - a futile effort to make himself comfortable in an impossibly uncomfortable situation.

The pressed High Admiral's uniform he donned was already beginning to become a nuisance; it's tailored fit and flashy form not allowing him the freedom of his usual cloak. He could taste the nervousness of the room's occupants in the reeking recycled air. Tugging irritably at his color, he contorted his face as if to express his discomfort as he suddenly realized how hot it was in this confined space. He was slowly becoming aware of more and more displeasures all about him and his impatience was growing.

The Admiral's cruel thoughts on how to handle Captain Essian were he to be late were interrupted by the swish of the ready rooms door's sliding open. Captain Essian strode in, a mere 20 seconds remaining before the meeting was designated to start, and Daemon let out a disappointed sigh as he realized he wouldn't get the chance at his fun.

The Captain had a flush look on his face as if he had been hurrying his way here, which he had, no doubt. He stopped near the High Admiral's chair, bowing slightly.

He knew this was a critical moment. Should he show the Captain disciplinary action and demonstrate to the other persons in the room that he would not tolerate such slip-ups? While this action was backed by much logic, he decided they hadn't the time for such trivialities; they had plans for a planetary assault to finalize. Besides, the Captain had arrived on time, after all.

With a nod, Admiral Hyfe greeted Essian. He could see the tension on the Captain's face; feel that same tension in the other officers in the room. He remained silent for a moment, then gestured to the chair at the other end of the table. "Have a seat, Captain." He said, feeling the mental sigh of relief in the man before him.

"Sir," Essian replied, heading towards his place at the end of the oval table.

Daemon cast a final glance around the room, now that everyone was present and Captain Essian was taking his seat. The chitchat had faded away as Essian had entered, leading into a dead silence. Daemon briefly studied each of them in turn as he himself pulled his chair up the table.

The man on his immediate left Daemon knew to be the recently-promoted Rear Admiral Hayt of the Attack-Class Carrier Sphere <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Innuendo<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->; a small man, weak-looking. His face was weaselish with overlarge dark eyes. Despite his fairly young age, there was gray at his temples, and a weathered appearance about him. For some strange reason Daemon always found that his movements seemed difficult to follow, something that continually puzzled him. Hayt was a sly little man of quick tongue and good humor, and even better tactical skill. He barely stood to Daemon's shoulder height at full, but he was not to be judged by his size. His stature and way of movement lead to Daemon's belief that he was a trained fighter. A Corellian, Hayt often made references to his ancient heritage, sharing Daemon’s interest in poetry and moving quotations, but often ones in the Old Corellian tongue. Because he had the favor the High Admiral, the occasional smell of glitterstim spice he had about him was let slide. For this occasion though, Hayt seemed clean.

Observing this man, Daemon came to realize he was one of the few people he actually enjoyed having in his presence, and he let out a weak smile.

The other occupants of the room consisted of Captain Djuri of the VSD <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Hammer<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, as well as the commanders of the other VSDs and PACs in Stygian Fleet's 1st Division.

There was an armed stormtrooper-guard at the door, as well as one outside. Now that everyone was here, Daemon turned and gave the stormtrooper a hand signal to take up post outside the door.

The guard did so.

Satisfied that the scene was set, Daemon unfolded his gloved-hands from atop the black wooden-topped table (most likely a fine impression of the wood from a Doujja tree, he decided). They had much to discuss here, and the others seemed eager.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, shall we begin?" the Admiral questioned.

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> 100 kilometers off Lando's Folly<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

TIE Devils danced through the asteroid field known of late as 'Lando's Folly', their lack of shields ensuring immediate destruction upon collision. When not in battle they had been used largely for recon-purposes in the past months, due to their extreme low cost.

The swirling blue-green planet of Dubrillion stood against the back-drop of space, and it's neighboring planet, Destrillion, on the part of it’s orbit bringing it closest to Dubrillion, stood like a brown clump of dirt.

A patrol group of 4 TIE Devils swarmed away from the brown speck that was Destrillion, and circled their ‘mothership’, the Attack-Class Carrier Sphere <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Innuendo<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, before entering their hangar bay.

Taking more immediate action, was the Super Star Destroyer <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Pandemonium<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, under the High Admiral's command.



Davin Essian stared out the forward viewport at the growing mass of Dubrillion, rubbing the underside of his chin with his gloved thumb.

The <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Pandemonium<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> was driving toward high orbit above the sun-side equator; the Penetrator-Class Assault Cruiser, QBCs, and support craft of its task force were splitting up into outer and inner defense positions; and the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Hammer<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> was coming in as backdrop from the nightside.

"Remaining fighters: launch. Offensive sweep formation ahead of the QBCs vector," Captain Essian called.

"Resistance?" came the voice of the High Admiral.

"None, as of yet, sir," Essian replied, his eyes flicking to his small-scale BAC display.

Davin Essian's eyes took to the view port once more, gazing into the swirling orb of Dubrillion as they continued to near.

Several blips appeared on Essians tactical holo, and as he keyed for more information, a call came in from Rear-Admiral Hayt on the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Innuendo<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->.

"Admiral, Assault Group B reports resistance fighters coming up from Destrillions moon. They are non-aligned, and of various models, sir," the Captain reported immediately.

The Admiral paused as he confirmed this with a glance at the BAC visualization at his command station. "Get a location on that fighter base, and detail the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Dauntless<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> to move in and destroy it."

"Yes sir."

The High Admiral's BAC display showed Assault Force B's own defending fighters move ahead in their wedge-shaped pattern as they engaged the unknown enemy.

"Probably just pirates, sir," the Captain noted.

Hyfe nodded, as he pressed a few buttons on his tactical command console.

"Picket ships, take up formation. Don't let any fleeing ships escape," the High Admiral ordered.

As soon as acknowledgements came in, the High Admiral glanced to Captain Essian, and gave a nod.

"Note your TAC display crewman," Captain Chandler snapped at rather young looking ensign.

Simon could almost see the sweat beads forming on the young man's forehead as the Imperial Star Destroyer <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Victory<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> moved through the asteriod field.

That the mighty vessel moved <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> through<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> the field was perhaps an understatement.

"Z plus four degrees off the port by twenty three meters," the ensign called to those crewman assigned to man the individual thruster command and control stations.

The fact that the computer could have adjusted the controls or easily compensated for those stations made no impression whatsoever on Kaine and he was pleased that his fastidiousness carried over to the 256th's once Wing Commander.

"Move aft postion up 5 more meters... I said UP crewman!" Chandler admonished standing less than 10 feet away from those recipients of his wrath.

The <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Victory<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> shuddered a little as a small asteriod pounded against the warship's shields.

Most tend to view asteriod fields as rather flat expanse (must like that of rings around a planet). When viewed up close, however, asteriod fields are anything but flat.

However, a vessel could conceivably navigate the outer fringes of the gravity curents allowing the field to stay in it's relative postion with relative ease (as opposed to attempting to navigate through the middle).

Constant attention to position is a prime factor in successfully navigating a field, or so several crewmen are being trained.


Kaine bit back a smile and turned to the communications officer. "Interference still affecting the signal?"

The officer ran a few checks before turning to the General, "No sir. Stygian Fleet is right where it's supposed to be."


<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Hyfe.. reliable as ever.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->


"Lieutenant, give the coded signal for transfer of command of Stygian Fleet's ground forces to myself, flag being the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Victory<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. Send appropriate telemetry of our approach and instructions for their ship's to meet us at the following coordinates."

"Sir? Stygian Fleet is acknowledging."

Simon nodded and, as an after thought, "Any transport crews not ready at the prescribed time will be broken back to Private."


"Aye sir, message being sent."


"Ensign?" Kaine suddenly turned to the crewman on the TAC display. "If we are not at the designated location on time, you will be posting wash duty...on the outside of my ship."


The sudden interest in the TAC figures amused the General and he turned the bridge back over the the ship's master, Captain Chandler.



<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Walk in the park duty..<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->


But he relished it. Any chance to command men he could see was a plus in his book. He surprised himself at how much he was looking forward to leading the Stygian Fleet's ground forces in the occupation exercises.


The <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Victory<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> slid into a low orbit of Destrillion immeidately flanked by a Penetrator Attack Cruiser and a Quasar Bulk Cruiser.


<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Let's see what these recruits have got.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

As Kaine moved to his own transport, dressed in battle fatigues suitable to Destrillion's harsh environment.

He checked the flow regulators on his emergency oxygen masks and when satisfied, walked up the ramp.


"Velocity matched with Penetrators and Quasars...."

and that was all Kaine heard as the transport disconnected and dropped into space right at the same time as other's from the smaller ships had.


The dirty sphere of Destrillion beckoned but Kaine paid it no mind as he read and reread the reports on the planet's surface condition.