The Rebel Faction

Bemusement.

That was the only word to describe the feeling of Rear Admiral Desaria as he boarded a shuttle off his beloved command ship, the Allegiance-class Star Destroyer Intimidator. As the Sentinel vanished into hyperspace, the Imperial 15th Ground Assault Group, the command of every surface soldier on Averam, was issuing orders to dig in on the acquired positions. Offensive weaponry was being ferried off the world as defense equipment was landing with great allotment. A Fleet defense force had only one day prior relieved the Brass Protectorate of its duties. The Fleet would mre hours after the departure of its commander, vanish itself for the Core of the Empire.

And leave behind thousands of bodies on the hills and plains of Averam and other floating through the vacuum of space.

Bemusement, however, was not the lone feeling. Remorse. And sadness. Before the shuttle disappeared on its unknown vector, the Admiral gave his fleet one last look.

* * *

The orders the Admiral had been given via coded holotransmission were vague at best. Incomplete and empty practically.

The only thing that Grand Admiral Hyfe had said definitively was that he was being temporarily reassigned.

Where?

Why?

What command?

Not one of these questions had even come close to being answered. A Sentinel-class Shuttle had arrived, the Admiral boarded, and the pilot merely pushed the hyperdrive lever and they were off.

* * *

The shuttle had been in transit for five hours, the Admiral sleeping for most of that time, before it slid into realspace.

" Admiral, we are here," boomed the voice over the darkened cabin. The hold on the typical troop transport was converted to a flag mover as the pilots dubbed the shuttles that flew the brass from one place to another. It had not been done exclusively for the Rear Admiral, nor was he its first occupant: the Manual of Arms General Kaine was rumored to always have kept by his bed was under the mattress.

" Oh? Do tell," the Admiral replied sarcastically. As an officer who bore the carmine trouser stripe of command on his breeches, he despised being ferried about to places unknown.

The Admiral sat up in the bed and stood. After a stretch which was more than needed, he sauntered to the viewport. The Admiral was flung back in time as he gazed into the heavens. About the small shuttle were scores of advanced TIE fighters and assault bombers. They had all come from a flotilla of the Star Destroyers arrayed loosely in space. At least a dozen warships were out there, all in the deadly wedge of the ubiquitous Imperial Star Destroyer.

Some of them were, however, larger than the Imperial IIIs that formed the periphery of the formation. They were among the latest in Destroyer creation: Reign-class Star Destroyers. They were only slightly larger than the Imperial IIIs, but were slightly heavier armed and armored. Their automation and sensor packages, however, were well in advance of most field ships.

The sight of so many Destroyers flung the Admiral to Endor, a distant memory and a long forgotten family tree. The Desaria's had lost three sons at Endor, each one an officer and commander. Each stood on the bridge of a Star Destroyer and each wore the Badge of Honour below their rank plaques.

Each perished.

Young Telan had only been a pre pubsescent pain then, but already dreamed of the glory and hoonour his brothers had amassed. He had vowed to make his brother's muders pay when he was able to realize just what the Rebels had done at Endor.

Most of the combatants of that battle that were not dead were hanging their hats under three banners: the Empire, the Republic, or the Galactic Defense Initiative.

" Your flag, Admiral," called the pilot as the Sentinel came across the bow of a Reign-class Star Destroyer. The black lettering on the bow read to the Admiral's pleasure.

Intimidator II

Hyfe always had a sense of humour. He as well could make his subordinates perform to their best without their realization.

Desaria was slightly sharper than the average dtip of the Officer Corps.

Well done, Admiral...

Space was always dark and lonely. Despite a lack of fierce some creatures flying about or asteroids careening through the stars, the mere vastness of the vacuum was intimidating enough to deter even the most brave explorers from venturing outside their own system boundaries.

The lack of any planets, debris, gas clouds, or comets made the Task Force’s crews wary immediately on the reversion to real space. Grid 15 dash nine was undoubtedly the most hellish environment they had served in for its lack of anything. There were less stars viewable from the view ports than the officers and men had ever seen.

“ Eerie, yes, Admiral?”

“ Very. Fortunately, I have too much to do than ruminate on my discomfort.”

“ Of course, Admiral.”

Rear Admiral Desaria smiled. “ Bring all ships to stealth and extend the sensor sphere out to maximum. Deploy in Squadrons. Push the pickets into Net Pattern Penta-3.”

“ As ordered, Admiral.”

Outside the grey hull of the Reign-class Star Destroyer the Admiral had planted his flag upon, the Task Force broke into four squadrons, each with Reigns and ISDs in as much a delta-formation as possible. Slowly, the amalgam of warships grew vastly apart as the Interdiction Pickets moved farther and farther out so their immobilizer spheres could overlap and still cover the most space possible.

Around the exit to the hyperlane two squadrons were arrayed. Their pickets covered the entrance, beyond it, and into the lane. Any force coming towards the transfer point would be yanked from hyperspace and set upon by the Imperial predators. Squadrons III and IV had the identical task at the entrance to the second leg of any convoy’s journey. Every way into the region was sealed off.

Every dimension of space had been covered by the seventy-five pickets. Between them, they had the power of nineteen Im-418 cruisers. They were, however, far less heavily armed. Their main asset, like the TIE fighters of ancient model, was speed and maneuverability.

With the positioning of all the Imperial Chess pieces, the unenviable game of waiting began.

* * *

The Imperials waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Any lesser trained crew would have cracked from the ten spent at duty stations. The ennui which was setting in seemed interminable.

On the bridge of the Imperial task force flagship, however, things were different. The sealed orders waiting for Rear Admiral Desaria had contained the precise times of ten convoy’s destination arrival times and leg markers. The ten convoys traveled in groups of five, each convoy within each group spaced by twenty minutes.

The problem with interdicting the convoys was not one of timing. The Imperials possessed accurate depictions of crew strengths, cargoes, and escorts. The problem was not with Imperial Intelligence; the problem lay with the ingenious capriciousness of the GDI fleet planners. One of each of the convoys within each group only appeared to be freighters. They were, in fact, heavily armed warships remade to appear as transports and liners. They had been bought as originals and undergone extensive refits. They had no cargo space whatsoever, their interiors remade to house heavy generators and anti-boarding parties. Their weaponry was heavy and formidable, the bane of any pirates.

The Imperials knew of the disguises existence. The problem was that no one knew which convoy it was.

“ Admiral, we have been here for eleven hours.”

“ Yes, I am aware of that,” Desaria replied, having just returned to the bridge from mess.

“ Thought you should know.”

It seemed impossible for any one to grow angry at the Intimidator II’s commander. It was if he was a Falleen in costume, exuding his pheromones throughout.

The Captain was about to depart for his own dinner, when Desaria stopped him.

“ You may want to stay on the bridge, Captain.”

“ Oh?”

Desaria mischievously grinned.

“ Our guests should be arriving in a few moments. Bring all ships to battle readiness.”

“ As ordered.” The Captain turned to his crew. “ Bring shields to full, angle them seventy percent to fore. All batteries to maximum readiness, send preliminary charges into the breech. Load forward missile batteries. ..”

The ship commands continued for several minutes, stopping only seconds before the first ships became victims of the Imperial interdiction web. Leading them was a fifty meters customs frigate, followed by two small Corellian freighters. Immediately following was one of the many Kuati supertankers used by military forces. They were larger than the Victory-class Star Destroyers of the Imperial Navy and could carry thousands of kilotons of material. When used as troops transports and refitted, they could carry a full Imperial assault corps, equipment and all.

All in all, twenty-three transports and two escorting frigates reverted to real space. They were closely arrayed, and were not aware of the Imperial presence all around them for several minutes.

When they did, the two frigates paired up and moved towards the nearest Star Destroyer, hoping to sacrifice themselves so the convoy could slip away. The net was simply too large. The frigates came on head long towards the ISD III Exacerbator, and did not fire a shot. They entered point blank range as her Captain was frantically requesting instructions.

“ They are acting rather hostily, Captain. Eliminate them.”

“ Yes sir!”

It took milliseconds for the Admiral’s orders to reach the gunners of the bow turbo laser emplacements. When it did, neon fire spat forth from the deadly prow of the mighty vessel. The frigates were barely worthy of that designation, but came on brave and true. Their shields were no match for the few batteries that opened fire. As quickly as the enfilade began it ended, leaving only floating debris and liquefied hull plating ahead of the Star Destroyer.

“ Well done. Send an immediate demand for surrender to all vessels. Those who do shall be protected. In two minutes, any vessel that has not completely powered down and signaled their surrender shall be destroyed.”

“ As ordered, Admiral. Sending now.”

Desaria nodded, confident the newest crews of the Imperial Navy were of the excellent calibre he was used to leading. He made a note in his mind to compliment the task force when the action was complete.

Surrounded by Star Destroyers and for hundreds of kilometers around an impenetrable net of hyperspace interdictors, the convoy had ceased trying to run the deep space blockade. Now it sat, impotent, in the midst of the titans. Each of whom was ready to pounce on its immobile prey/

“ Any word?” the Admiral asked, looking at the bridge display chrono.

“ None, sir.”

“ Perhaps we can endear them to our offer. Send orders to the Trafalgar and the Dark Portent: eliminate the following and leading pair of transports.”

“ With pleasure, Admiral,” replied the tactical liaison officer.

Again, mere seconds after the orders were relayed, they were acted upon, the other two Reign-class Star Destroyers in the flag squadron maneuvered their massive forms ahead of the Intimidator and trained their guns on the pair of light tankers at the front of the column of ships. Several of the lasers glowed as they charged, then rele4ased a torrent of ire towards the pair. The first string of bolts hit the heavier skinned vessels, breaking one apart and knocking out the drives of its companion, itself slowly drifting ventrally out of formation. The halves of the other had begun to separate, leaving between them a cloud of debris and rapidly freezing durasteel.

Their first assigned task complete, the two Destroyers bothered not even turn, they trained their able guns on the last two stock freighters and loosed a short-lived enfilade at them. The backs of the two quickly broke, and they too fell from formation.

“ Admiral, they are requesting an audience.”

“ Excellent,” the Admiral replied, turning aft as the two forward Destroyers reversed themselves into flanking position behind the Little I.

“ On main screen.”

One of the triangular view panes flashed black, then was replaced by the visage of a GDI military official, obviously placed in charge of the convoy.

“ I am Rear Admiral Telan Desaria, commander of the force which opposes you. I have put forth terms of your surrender. Your decision now.”

“ I am Colonel Marekk Ramone. The force you have trapped is Convoy 11235, Galactic Defense Initiative. Before I surrender, I would remind the Admiral that he is in GDI space, and will shortly be driven from it.”

“ You may, but the Admiral shall remind the Colonel that his force is larger than anything the Initiative can spare at present. Now, I require your answer before I issue any more orders to my men.”

“ You would slaughter un armed freighters???”

“ I would serve my Empire and the orders I have received to that end. If that means slagging you and your wretched hive, then so be it. But it is not, and thus I can assure you that your ships will be interned and your cargo confiscated, and your men allowed to go free on an Imperial world set forth as a colonial expansion. When you are deemed to leave, you may, or stay as you desire.”

“ But-”

“ You have twenty seconds, Colonel. Starting earlier.”

“ All right.”

“ Excellent,” Desaria grinned. “ Boarding parties are on their way.”

The ability of the Admiral was never disputed by any officer or man. The holonews agencies left him to his own ways, being no more than a lowly Admiral in the service to the Empire. His exploits were his own, his medals earned and polished, but rarely gazed upon.

His actions were questioned either.

Immediately after bringing all ships to combat readiness, the ordered area flooded with extra radio traffic and signals. In effect, as was the common military term: communications had been jammed. This did not affect the Imperial Fleet, for their intership communication operated via tight band alternating laser signals. Had the GDI ships anything like it, their intership communications would be unimpeded.

The two rival forces could not contact each other under any circumstances as a consequence.

Thus it would be a battle to the death.

* * *

The next convoy scheduled to arrive did so fifteen minutes behind its designated time.

The ships contained therein were typical of a Defense Initiative fuel convoy. Twenty-four Kuati Supertankers made up three diamond shaped groups, surrounded by a dozen smaller freighters and five escorting Corellian Corvettes rigged for anti pirating duty.

The sizeable force had been brought from hyperspace one hundred kilometers ahead of its scheduled reversion point. As such, the escorts hastily armed their weapons and raised their shields. With communications jammed, the primary sensors that operated on radio and comm frequencies were slightly skewed. The fleet relied on its visual scanners to take complete stock in the situation.

Nineteen Imperial Star Destroyers of two distinct classes had been arrayed in a cul-de-sac around the convoy. Above, below, ahead and behind were nearly a hundred small frigate sized craft, which together had created a net of gravity larger than a planetary system.

A situation that would otherwise have been untendable.

Otherwise being operative.



The Kuati Supertankers opened up to the darkness of space without a shot having been fired. Hull plating flew to the side and massive halves and sections of them separated to reveal the precious cargo they had been carrying.

Their cargo was not fuel. Their cargo was fueled. From the kilometer long tankers came smaller warships, who rushed through the debris field created by their disassembled carriers. From them came corvettes, gunships, two Carrack Cruisers, and a Flurry-class Escort Carrier.

All together, twenty four small warships had appeared where twenty four heavily armored but defenseless fuel haulers had been. Adding to that were the five preexisting escorts, and the smaller freighters, each of which bristled with as much weaponry as their refitted reactors and generators could bear.



“ And so we have our answer…”

Aboard One Of The Smaller Warships

<font color=green>The man paled in his shadow, stumbling backward on buckling legs that could barely support his weight. He braced his hand against the durasteel bulkhead for balance.

"You said you could defend us!" he cried in obvious disbelief, but that emotionless helm simply stared back at the Galactic Defense Initiative commander. "We trusted you!"

"Trust is more often than not misplaced my friend," the bounty hunter said very casually as he braced his hand around the grip of his gun.

"You said you could defend us!" the commander repeated as if believing this time would prove less futile than the last.

"I know pirates Commander, I know raiders, and I know terrorists," Fett explained calmly, "I even know the Empire. However..." he took a few more omenous steps toward the man, "I do not side with injustice."

"You sided with Jabba the Hutt!"

It almost seemed like that T-shaped visor would laugh at the man at the absurdity of his statement.

"Captain Solo abused Jabba's trust, besides...a good payment is always useful," Fett mocked, tossing the bag of credits up and down in his hand. "Your contributions to my cause are most appreciated."

Tears streaked down the pitiful man's cheeks. Everything had gone to hell around him, and here was this man who by all means should have been dead, clad in the taunting Mandalorian armor here to mock him at his moment of reckoning.

Fett would have spat in disgust had his face not been covered by his helm. Could he not at least portray a little pride?

"You still have five minutes to get off this ship," Fett explained. The commander lost his hold on the bulkhead and fell flat on his back, ignoring the sudden jolt of pain. The bounty hunter crouched down in front of him. "However, I will hunt you. Several governments have offered a substantial fee on Galactic Defense Initiative heads."

"But why?" the commander stammered. None of this could have been real. It was too awful to be real. "The war's almost over...we..."

"Terrorism is a horrid way to get what you want," Fett said with a bemused grin, even if his opponent couldn't see it. "I do not support it in anyway."

"But...but..." the commander clung uselessly to a broken durasteel bar nearby, clutching it like an infant babe to its mother.

"You're not going to leave are you?" Fett mused. The Defense Initiative commander shook his head. Mucus stained his upper lip but he seemed not to care, and Fett simply could not stand it any longer.

He lifted his blaster, took aim. Asside from his thoughts of fear, Fett's shot was the last thing to go through his mind.