In Orbit SOS (open)

---New Republic space---

A single ship flitted though space. Without a force to act upon it an object will continue to move at a constant speed. When exiting light speed most ships drop off to a sub-light maneuvering velocity so that the thrusters can take over and steer the ship to its destination.

However if your thrusters are damaged and inoperable, say by being shot at, dropping out of light speed sends you skimming ahead; missing the civilian docking beacons.  Then you are left swinging around in a dull ellipse around a planet’s orbital immigration station, waiting for the right time and sending out an SOS like this:

*Static*

“And the video jack goes in…there!”



“Hello. If you can hear this I seem to be having some minor engine… explosions and I can’t get my ship moving. If you could tow me to the nearest docking station or…” A sharp electrical discharge can be heard in the background. “… even lending me a foam fire extinguisher would really help right now. You would be my savior if you just told the local orbital traffic control where I am really.”

*Static*

[SOS ENDS]

Hyperspace was boring. It gave Artamis time to practise with his sword, but there was little else to do. He kept his ship in pretty good shape, so there was little to do aside from routine maintenance. Right now, he was going through the cargo holds. Old Captain Mako had left him surplus of supplies. Most of it he didn't even need. Women's clothing, vibro-axes, and plaid shirts being some items in question. He sighed and kicked a canister. as much as he enjoyed keeping up with the Morvak, it was tedious work and he'd rather be doing something else.

That's when his datapad, synced with the ship's computer, beeped to alert its owner that a weak transmission was being received. What he saw confused his brain. It was a uuhhhhh........... androgynous human wearing frill clothing requesting aid. He shrugged and tapped a few holographic buttons, telling the ship to drop out of hyperspace once in range. Not two seconds passed before the ship lurched and dropped out of lightspeed.

Artamis closed the canister, picked up an earpiece attached to his datapad, put it on, and hailed the out-of-control vessel while he walked to the cockpit to see what was going on first-hand.

"Unnamed vessel, this is Captain Rhosvyn of the Morvak responding to your S.O.S." he said, then when he saw the ship wildly whirring around a space station like some sick thrill ride that resembled a child's toy, he followed up with,

"...and I honestly have no idea how you can be helped by anything less than more explosions or a tractor beam." he said. He couldn't help but stare, bewildered, at the crazed orbit.

Artamis’ message managed to pass though the speakers of the still operational comms system.

It did not take long for Xinran to send a reply over an active channel.


“Oh tractor beam! Out of those two I definitely choose having a tractor beam help me.”

"Right," Artamis replied, before switching channels to talk to the space station. The Morvak wasn't equipped with a tractor beam, so he had to hope the space station was -- and an effective one at that.

"Republic Customs Station, this is the Morvak requesting aid on behalf of the runaway ship currently in insane orbit around you. Please activate a tractor beam to at the very least slow the ship down. There are live passengers aboard and they're quite hopeful to get out of this." he requested in long-winded polite speech. It wasn't long before a fuzzy signal came from the older station, which made the likely just-as-polite voice sound shrill and offensive.

"Morvak, this is Republic station. That's a negative on the tractor beam, it's moving too fast for us to effectively counter. You'd need a ship equipped with a tractor beam to get that lunatic out of orbit." and with that the channel closed. Artamis remembered in that instant why he never dealt with either of the galaxy's governments.

He changed back to the channel with the swiftly spinning ship.

"So I have some good news and bad news," he said dryly, then with faux excitement "The good news is, we can get you out of there with a tractor beam!" he said, playing up the hype, before delivering the bad news "the bad news is, the space station can't get a good lock on you, so we'd need a pretty big ship to pop by." he looked around out the view port, as if by some miracle of timing and necessity a warship would whoosh out of nowhere.

Xinran bit back a curse when Artamis’ news reached the flight deck.

“Roger that. Give me a minute.” Xinran muted the microphone on the flight deck comms.

“At times like this you can almost feel the touch of death on your shoulder eh Xirnan?”

“Wha? Why the hell am I talking to myself?”

“If you are going to think your way out this you are going to need a critic to point out the problems in your ideas.”

“Ha! You think I am really that full of myself?”

“…”

“… okay you got me.”

“Problem: The craft is moving too fast for the station to lock onto you. All your manoeuvring thrusters are offline. So you can’t slow the ship down.”

“Ha! Well now they know where I am I don’t really need to stay in this junk pile! I’ll just put on a normal suit, fire myself out of the airlock and they can pick just me up.”

“Impossible: If you jump out of the airlock perpendicular to the vehicle your momentum from the ship will not change. You’ll just fly off into space; no one will find you.”

“Okay okay.” Xinran grimaced. “Then in order to be towed I’ll need to slow down the ship. We’re orbiting around the customs station. We still have a great deal of liquid fuel, although we can’t use the thrusters what if we jettisoned the fuel tanks themselves and use the sudden shift in mass to decay our orbit. Instead of changing our speed we can get closer to the station.”

“Impossible:”

“What?”

“Traveling at our speed, that action would result in a crash.”

“Damn it! The only thing that can save me is if I slow the ship down and that’s the one thing I can’t do! Even though we have plenty of fuel…”

“…”

“Heh. Ha ha ha!”

“Another inferior idea?”

“Oh aren’t you me? You should be able to work this out. We can’t use the fuel through the thrusters but we can still use the fuel!” Xinran gestured to the flight deck. “We’re flying straight forward right? We fill the nose cone with just the right amount of fuel and set it off. With a bit of preparation, the shape of the nose will funnel the explosion out in front of us. If we get it right it should slow us down and push us towards the station.”

“Impossible: Even assuming you can get the desired result how do you expect to survive in a spaceship you have blown up.”

“Sorry but that is no good, no good at all!” Xinran pointed towards the stern of the ship. “This may just be a small transport but it is still a spaceship. So it has all the necessary safety features. When there is a threat of fire on a spacecraft you can seal off and isolate doors and bulkheads. So I can just seal myself away from the explosion with enough air until I’m towed into the station!”

“That is providing that you do not mess up your calculations and blow yourself up”

“It’s either this or we wait for some huge ship to come and pick us up and I really don’t want to be on a republic or neutral warship in a stolen Imperial transport.”

Xinran flicked back onto the active channel with Artamis.

“Hey stylish guy! You tell the station I’m about to slow this hunk of crap down so they can get a tractor lock on me so they’d better be ready! Turns out you were right to begin with. More explosions might just help me.”

“Now…” Xinran thought. “I’d better start shifting the fuel but I’m really not dressed for that, better switch out for something more practical and less cutesy.”

"Captain Boxers! Reverting to real space in sixty!"

A giant, two meter tall, almost half as thick...for a lack of a better word, macho-man nodded before slapping the back of an Intelligence Officer almost a quarter his mass (if not his height) with a thick slab of meat he called a hand. The Overseer's face no doubt grimaced if it wasn't for a mask over his face.

"HAHA! You see, Overseer! There is no need to panic! I, the legendary Captain Megalo Boxers, with the talent and technique handed down for generations in the Boxer's Family, will catch you your precious stolen Imperial transport in record time!"

The thunderous voice reverberated throughout the bridge of the Loronar Strike Cruiwer but the Overseer did not react. Eventually, probably feeling the sense of someone watching him, the Overseer looked up, reached for his ears and pulled out two pieces of cheese he had smuggled out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, did you say something, Captai...."

"CHEESE!? I am terribly sorry, were you HUNGRY?! Overseer?"

"No, I..."

"Lieutenant! get the Overseer something to eat! Slap a few slices of cheese and somee Ham and put it in between some bread! We will call it a Space Witch..."

The Masked figure tilted his head in puzzlement before he realised what was going on and shook his head.

"No no! No need for some food! And also...I believe you call those a Sand Witch or something...."

"Sand? There are no Sands in Space! Is it a Tatooinian delicacy?!"

"Sir, reverting in ten."

The Strike Class Cruiser reverted into real space with the two leading officers of the ship arguing about the origins of the Sandwich....when they finally turned their head to the task at hand, they found their stolen transport....

"Wha...."

"Launch the fighters. They should have the inbuilt tractor beams to keep its vector steady. Time it so it comes straight for us. Tractor beams, ready to target the stolen transport....Captain! Now is not the time."

"But your Sand Witch is here..."

"This guy's crazy, if he's doing what I think he's doing..." Artamis mused incredulously, then he realised he'd been asked to do something. He reopened a comms channel and warned the Station.

"Republic Station, this is Morvak. I think the pilot of that ship's about to try something really stupid so I suggest throwing up your shields and preparing a tractor beam at the same time. IF it works, you'll want the tractor beam. If it doesn't, you'll need the shields." he said. There was shouting down the comms line before it clicked off on that end, so he knew the message was delivered. His scanners popped up with a little notice that he station's deflector shields were active, and at the same time warned that a tractor beam was being engaged and to use caution.

Well, at least things were going smoothl- BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!!

"What in the blue blazes," Artamis scowled at the radar on his nav readouts and saw a bunch of big red dots coming from behind. He touched the steering column and the Morvak swiveled around just enough for him to spot Imperial cruisers bearing down on the location, as well as a bunch of little silver speckles that weren't stars. Starfighters.

"... You gotta be smeggin' kidding me..." he swore. Then he had a moment of personal query as to if Luna was ruining his innocence.

(OOC: Easy there laddie! Only 1...ONE Strike Cruiser...well,, and its full complement of the INFAMOUS TIE FIGHTERS!)

((OCC: Okay I am sorry I really did not expect it to get this out of hand but I cannot think of any reason why my character would notice the ship when they have ripped out the flight deck of their ship. So I hope it is okay if I fudge and make the results definite.))

Xinran had changed and finished re-fanshoning the nose of his ship into a makeshift shaped explosive.



"Okay! Let's get this done." Xinran, safely stowed away in another part of the ship sealed off by the emergency bulkheads pressed the detonator.

Seen from the outside the nose of the transport warps and explodes outward like a party popper, warped metal and gas shooting directly in front of the spacecraft. Space in fiction is always resolved in two dimensions so this reduces the x-axis movement of the shuttle to zero. But the transport was not travelling in a straight line but an ellipse. So the resultant forces cause the orbit to decay sending the transport spinning towards the customs station.

So in a few moments, at the stations tractor-beam office.

"Hey Geoff?"

"Yeah Williams?"

"What's that coming towards us?"

Geoff squints though the tractor-beam targeting scope.

"Ugh no idea looks just like a pice of junk. Like a derelict pulled in by the planets gravity well."

"Coming right towards us."

"Bah. It's moving slow enough, lets just send it into the refuse dump and let the droids take care of it."

"Wait weren't we supposed to be on the lookout for a ship in distress?"

"What the hell could be alive on that ship?" Geoff pulled up a magnified image of Xinran's ship on the main vidscreen. "The whole front's been blown off."

"I guess." Williams shrugged.

"Okay." Geoff pressed a button on the telecom on is desk. "Section four, please be aware, we are sending you a derelict transport shuttle on a collision corse with the station. Clear out external bay four."

After a few seconds a robot voice buzzed back into the office: "Roger, roger."

The tractor beam then reached out though space wrapping around Xinran's ship making a pleasant mockery of classical mechanics it dragged the ship into a landing bay on the lowest point of the space station giving it just enough of a push so it would slide though the atmospheric barrier in place over the opening and come to a rough rest screeching over the floor.

After a few minutes a few disposal droids rolled over to the wreck. Communication was both though wireless signals and, being droids, too boring to explain here.

But the very moment one droid approached the starboard door to remove it it was smashed in the face by the very door it was trying to remove. Out of the new opening strode Xinran.

"About damn time you guys got to it!" Xinran then looked around at the environment they found themselves in. "What the hell kinda arrivals lounge is this!"

The Loronar Strike class Cruiser, Justicar, hastily approached the orbital space station at standard cruising speed. A hangar bay on the underside of the vessel deployed a total of twenty four TIE/LN Fighters in six flights of four. One flight was equipped with Ion Pulse Warheads. Two flights were equiped with tractor beams, though these would not draw the target towards the fighter, instead so long as it was locked onto a target, the target's vector will remain constant, regardless of gravitational pull. The remaining three flights, a whole squadron, were composed of TIE/LN Fighters without extra warheads or beam weapons.

As an explosion wracked the target transport, the Overseer on the bridge clenched his fist in frustration. Whether this was because he was fighting off Megalo Boxers' efforts to take his gas mask off to force feed the Overseer...or whether he was frustrated with not being able to capture the transport intact, remained to be a debate for the crew to contemplate for the next few weeks. Fortunately, the second in command aboard the vessel was more than competent enough to take over the affairs of protocol in the absence of orders from the Captain.

"This is Commander Ezekyle Ivan of the Imperial Navy. Second in Command to Captain Megalo Boxers, aboard the Loronar Strike-class Medium Cruiser Justicar. In the name of the Empire, all vessels are to stand down and cooperate in securing the stolen Imperial transport that has just exploded. Any and all surviving crew and/or passengers are to be arrested and handed over to Imperial custody. Failure to comply will be met with extreme force."

As the one sided force-feeding wretsling match struggled on in the background, the Commander eyed the scanners to notice the target vessel was being taken into the orbital space station. As the Space station itself appeared standard in template, he did not consider much of it, but Ivan was concerned that the station was not in the briefings when he consulted it for information on the destination planet.

"Unidentified Space Station, this is Commander Ivan of the Strike Cruiser Justicar. You are to halt reclamation of that transport vessel and hand it over immediate..."

The station just sucked the transport in without a care in the worlds that an Imperial naval presence was here...

"Orbital Space Station, respond!"

Artamis sat in his pilot seat and listened to the comms chatter from both sides, looking from one to the other with an amused expression on his face. The Imperial Commander was certainly... loyal? but he had no idea where he was.

The channel between the Morvak and the Station was never closed, so he heard all the shouts.

"IMPERIALS IN SECTOR TWO!" one shouted, another shouted and affirmative.

"Contacting nearest Republic garrison." said another, to which several workers cheered. A few moments later, "Garrison alerted. ETA fifteen minutes." the man said, and whomever was closest to the microphone let out an affirmative grunt. Likely accompanied with a nod, Artamis figured. Then the fun started.

"Imperial Strike-Class Cruiser Justicar, you are in New Republic space. A Republic garrison has been informed of your intrusion. Leave now, or suffer the consequences." the man said. You could tell from his tone of voice that he wanted to see these Imperials get blasted to space dust, but thee message was protocol now that they weren't simply freedom fighters, but a legitimate government.

At least ,that's the impression Artamis got. he had no idea how these people worked. Still, fifteen minutes? An Imperial cruiser could annihilate the station by then. they needed a diversion... and he needed something to do. In the background he heard people discussing the local garrison, and the preparations because of pirates, and a bit of a an "oh yeah", then tiny red specks drifted out of the hangars of the station, most T-shaped, and some triangular. Z-95s and A-Wings, Artamis wagered. From behind the station, a DP-20 frigate loomed out.

"Republic Station, this is Morvak," he said into the intercom, watching the hexagonal shimmers of TIE Fighters closing in, "What kind of compensation could a third party like me expect from the Republic if I helped you survive this... encounter?" he asked, and he heard a bit of paper shuffling in response before he got an answer.

"The Republic would certainly have opportunities for you. If you desire credits, we can arrange that, but a better investment could be offered should you offer reliable service here." the person on the com-link replied. Artamis wondered for a moment if this guy was part diplomat, but he dismissed it for now. Whichever way, he was getting something out of it, so he may as well help out.

The Morvak turned to face the Imperial fighters, and Artamis accelerated to attack speed. Energy diverted toward the quartet of laser canon batteries that Mako had paid a hefty price for to replace the wimpy laser canon. This should be fun.

“There’s a what outside?” Said Kici Lavolat.

“A strike class curser.” Hoihoi Guruah increased his walking speed forcing Kici to trot to keep up. “Just leapt out of hyperspace and started yelling at us to give them a stolen ship.”

“We stole a ship off the empire?”

“No! Well, they’re saying we have but we are at war. I don’t see why they just shoot it out of orbit if it’s near us.”

“I believe I can answer that!” Said a voice from the air vents.

“Ohh.” Said Kici. “Have you been practicing with your swizzle?”

“What? No! That’s not me!” Hoihoi brought his hand to his sidearm and swept his gaze up and down the corridor before turning back to Kici with an annoyed expression. “I mean that doesn’t even sound like me!”

“Oh.” Said Kici. “Then who was it?”

“Ugh.” If Hoihoi’s brows could have knitted closer together they would have passed by to opposite sides of his face. Then he regained his composure. “Where are you?”

“Why I am right here!”

Nothing.

“Right-here!”

Kici looked around. “I don’t think you are.”

“RIGHT ugh- here!” Xinran crashed through the ceiling intake vent and landed flat on the floor. "Oww."



“Ohh. There. I see.” Said Kici.

“Ughh.” Hoihoi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like this is going to be one of… no wait I’ve never had a day like this! This is an entirely new experience and I specifically took this job to avoid weird crap exactly like this!”

Strike Cruiser Justicar

"Is this thing on?...Hello? Justicar, do you read me?"

The arrogant, baritone voice rang throughout the bridge as a holographic image of a young man, dressed in an officer's tunic with no rank insignias, coat, gloves and leather boots, all in black appeared above the bickering Boxers and Overseer. Due to a certain degree of disruption, the holonet transmission was suffering from wavering signals. The bundle of human meat immediately separated themselves, standing up and saluted.

"Commodore! We were not expecting your presence..."

A dismissive hand lowered their salutes as the Commodore, Warlord of the Empire, looked down on the pair from his lofty height...or their one eighth image was located on a desk or something...

"Have you recovered the Intelligence and the Hrozvitnir?"

"No, Commodore. This bumbling buffoon of an ape was trying to force feed me a Sand Witch."

The Overseer's mask turned in accusing glares at the taller man.

"No matter. Commander Ivan, where is your ship located?"

The second in command saluted to the unexpected attention and reported the co-ordinates.

"Hmm...that region has not had a secure Imperial presence for some time...did that Agent escape behind enemy lines? No matter. Captain Boxers, Overseer, Commander Ivan. No reinforcements are in the area. If you cannot secure the data, destroy it before it reaches unfavourable hands."

A warning siren began to ring as the transmission ended. Commander Ivan atttended to the details while Boxers, eating the half spoilt sandwich looked inquisitively at the overseer. Taking the hint, the Intelligence officer took the captain to one side and whispered.

"An Imperial Intelligence Major has gone rogue, his call sign was Hrozvitnir. He has a datadisk containing confidential data for a new bioweapon under production. Mostly just co-ordinates but it also has desirable test subjects. The enemies of the Empire must never be allowed to have their hand on this intelligence."

Nodding, the pair returned to their duties. Ivan was ready to fill them in on the developments.

"Station has responded. Apparently we are in Rebel controlled space. We have confirmed starfighters being launched from the station. Most are outdated Z-95s. We have also visual confirmation on some rebel made interceptors. A Corellian Gunship has also appeared in our scanners. Reinforcements are likely en route."

"REBELS?! Rebels don't know how to hold space! They're no better than PIRATES! BRIGANDS! They steal. They rape! They KILL! They don't control space! Behold! The Boxers' family technique of swatting Rebel flies out of the...."

The Overseer looked to Ivan who continued despite the noise coming fron Boxers.

"We can probably use the Ion pulse warheads to disable the station and the Gunship within the next five minutes or so. If they all hit that is. A civilian freighter is on an attack vector as well. It has ignored our calls to stand down."

"Destroy all opposition. But more importantly, destroy the station. Our window of opportunity is slim here. If we fail to destroy the intelligence, the cat will be well out of the bag to make a difference. The Warlord does not tolerate failure."

"Aye, Overseer."

The TIE fighters were recalled to screening duty as the Justicar entered combat speed. The Strike Cruiser lacked a dedicated anti-starfighter weapons battery but it did have the powerful turbolasers. Leaving the unmodified TIE/LN Fighters of Alpha Squadron to deal with the Z-95s, the tractor beam/ion pulse warhead equiped Beta Squadron was to deal with the faster A-Wing interceptors. The Rebels had the advantage of better starfighters, but the Tractor beams would render them incapable of changing course once locked on by even one of the TIE's tractors, allowing even the Strike Cruiser's turrets to make short work of the lightly shielded interceptors.

Z-95s were no match for the newer TIEs to begin with. The worst case scenario was a 1:1 attrition ratio but the Empire was still not out of good pilots yet and these were all veterans of at least twenty missions. The Rebel Rabble would have their hands full, even if they were shielded. The Gunship was a threat but not a major issue right now. A collision course was set for the Space Station. The Gunship would be forced to keep pace if it was to engage the cruiser. Finally the case of the civilian freighter...the Ion Pulse warheads were to make short work of the brigand, but only if it got too close to the engagement.

The scanners were blazing with activity, and Artamis had to hit the mute button. He knew quite well that there were starfighters everywhere -- he'd have to be blind not to. He diverted a little bit of power to shields, when he got the feeling that these TIEs might be a little more troublesome than he'd heard stories about. As the line began to narrow, Artamis pulled off his speed a bit. He eyed the warship warily, and nodded when he confirmed to himself that a light freighter, even with bigger guns, was no match for something of that caliber.

The TIEs were no longer glittery objects in the distance, and that became a stark reality when one swooped right past him, bee-lining for the station. Artamis pulled about and reengaged his thrusters. That's when his side of the shooting started. The quad laser canon batteries laid siege on the starfighters that met contact with them. Shieldless, the little spherical-box things were disintegrated by the force of the Morvak's powerful guns. The ship was clunkier than the little ships, though, and so was easily outmaneouvred and many slipped by. That's where the Republic forces took the lead.

The A-Wings closed quickly, and the Z-95s weren't far behind. The interceptors engaged like a swarm of wasps, striking the TIE fighters with accurate, but fleeting blows ,that left some of the sturdier ships intact. The Z-95s took up the back line, mopping up the stragglers that the A-Wings couldn't intercept. When the struggle for the station proved to be useless for the TIE fighters, the real starfighter battle began, with multicoloured beams of energy flying in all directions, some scattering into space but most hitting their mark, be the target Republic or Imperial.

In the background, the two Republic warships were creating a blockade, using their broadside* turbolaser batteries to add another line of defense, but there wasn't much use for them yet. From the Imperial perspective, it would have looked like a freighter zooming madly around taking TIEs where it could, avoiding the main ship as much as possible, then a fray of starfighter battle, and a wall of frigate blocking access to the space station.

"Ten minutes to Republic reinforcements." a voice came over all Republic, and Artamis', comms.

*(OOC: I'm not sure if broadside turbolaser batteries are even a thing)

((OCC: I am assuming here that someone who is in charge of a border space station that has two ships dedicated to it would be one rank higher than captain. In the Royal Navy it seems to be commodore but I could not find if it is the same in New Republic Navy.))

“Ten minutes.” Commodore Riza Brenner sucked her tea down to its dregs. “Let us see how this goes. Status!”

“Our fighters are engaged with the strike curser’s complement.”

“Its silhouette matches… the Justicar.”

“Right, these guys are not going to make it simple even when the reinforcements swing up.” Riza betrayed her true feelings bringing up her still empty teacup to her lips.

“Care for a top up commodore?” A light voice came from behind.

“Oh. Yes, thank you…” Riza’s sentence trailed off as she turned and saw who was behind her.



“It is good to see you Mrs Brenner. You have certainly done well for yourself once the new republic formed.” Xinran clearly made an effort to pronounce the lower case letters in ‘New Republic’. Xinran poured fresh tea into Riza's cup from a small metal teapot. Behind Xinran Razia's actual PA stood with a terrified expression, holding an identical teapot.

“I sadly cannot say the same for you. It seems you have misplaced something.” Riza gestured to Xinran’s eye patch after her tea was poured for her.

“Oh I know where that went. Not really that useful anymore. Instead I came here to help all of you wonderful people.”

“Forgive me if I do not immediately agree with you.” Riza gestured to the central hologram display in the situation room.

“If after this you don’t think what I have is worth the effort you’re free to cash in all the karma I racked up with you.” Xinran grinned.

Riza tried to look at Xinran’s eye patch again without making eye contact, she failed.

“How did you get here anyway?”

“Well…”

---Ten minutes earlier---

“Listen…” Xinran brushed off the dust that had latched onto them from the journey though the vents. “…could you please direct me to where the decisions get made around here?”

“No how about you identify yourself first.” Said Hoihoi.

“Ah down that way.” Xinran pointed down a seemingly random hallway.

“What?” Said Hoihoi.

“Sorry…” Said Kici. “… I looked, I mean we were going in that direction anyway.”

“Ugghh.” Said Hoihoi.

(OOC: Commodore be close enough.)

Strike Cruiser Justicar

"Scanners confirmed, target space station is an XQ2 class Platform."

Ivan narrowed his eyes, they were now close enough for the long range scanners to identify the space station in orbit over the rebel held planet. It wouldn't be long before they could commence their strike against the station. The gunship had duplicated in the course of their approach, their guns peppering at the larger vessel. For the moment, their salvos were comparable to a pitiful protest to the Justicar's progress. The shields were holding for now, but it was only a matter of time before the reactors began to falter.

The same could not be said for the starfighter battle. The initial strafe had annihilated six of the twenty four TIEs, two of them with the precious warheads. For now, they were witnessing two flights of four A-Wings and a full squadron of Z-95s. As ordered, Beta Squadron had tractored three A-Wings and forced them into collision courses against the Strike Cruiser. Unable to manoever, they made easy pickings for the Turbolaser turrets that needed not to traverse. Alpha Squadron was hounding the slower Z-95s and despite a 25% loss, the Z-95s were paying the price. Already their numbers dwindling to eight.

The idle Turbolasers and Ion Cannons had already damaged the first gunship to enter its firing arc. Its engine pods had exploded, leaving it behind as the Gunship tried to keep up with the now faster Strike Cruiser. The second Gunship was still at large, firing their missile salvos and laser cannon fire at the larger ship.

"Where is the third squadron? An XQ2 class would have a capacity for three..."

The overseer's query was answered by an almost frightful screech from the crew pit.

"Captain! Commander! New contacts behind us! Silhouettes confirm! Rebel B-wing class Starighters and a flight of A-Wings!"

Ivan muttered a curse under his breath and looked to the Overseer. The masked figure did not answer either way but waved a hand, inviting the officers to decide amongst themselves. Commander Ivan walked over to the deafening Captain Megalo Boxers and coughed to get the man's attention.

"Captain...the circumstances are not...exactly to our advantage..."

"Shields down to 75%! Hull integrity still at 100%."

"Someone get me a lock on that pesky freighter!"

"This is Alpha 1! Beta Squadron down to half strength! Alpha Squadron second flight is gone!"

Ignoring the interruption, Ivan looked to Boxers for any sign of Boxers getting the point. The giant of the man seemed uncaring for the present circumstances. If there was any virtue to the man...it was a sense of justice and law...this single mindedness was proving to be a death sentence for their fighter sqadrons and soon themselves.

"Captain. May I recommend a steady advance to the...aft?"

"Nonesense! We cannot leave this rebel stronghold intact! Fire everything! Fire as if this will be your last battle! Let us burn a path to the heart of these lawless SCUM!"

Resigning to his fate, Ivan turned around to the Overseer, then to his fellow crewmen who had served on nearly fifty tours with since the end of the Clone Wars. A shade of sadness darkened his expressions before he straightened his back, puffed his chest out, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"You heard the captain, men! In the name of the Empire, we follow our Emperor to GLORY!"

The crew stood in unison, saluting the crest of the Justicar behind the command chair that the captain was supposed to be seated in, before returning to their posts. Their death sentence had been issued. They were poud officers and soldiers of the Empire. They would go down with the ship and take as many rebels as they could to the pits of the Void.

The reactor was set to maximum, all safety margins ignored. The extra power was routed to the shields, to the engine and to the turbolaser batteries. Emergency lighting covered the ship decks in crimson as every ounce of power was diverted to the sole purpose of destroying the enemy.

"Yes! Thats my boys! Glory! GLORY TO THE EMPEROR!"

None noticed the missing figure of the Overseer who had left the bridge to inform the Commodore of their failure.

[5 Minutes to Reinforcement...]

Artamis let out a little sigh when he heard the flight of A-Wings report in, then the approximate 5 or 6 B-Wings report in. He wasn't paying attention to count as they chimed in. His laser cannons were making quick work of the TIEs he could get a lock on, but the problem was just that. They were far more nimble than his ship, and kept trying to lure him toward the cruiser. He saw what happened to the few unfortunate A-Wings that strayed too close, and he wasn't going to fall for it. He did have an idea, though.

"Morvak to all Republic starfighters," he broadcasted on all relevant frequencies, "if you get grabbed by those TIE tractors, launch any and all warheads you've got at that Cruiser." he said, thinking hard on what he learned aboard a pirate vessel.

"I don't think the tractor beams affect your weapons systems, only your engines. So if you're going out, go out with everything." he said with a note of finality, then swooped back into chasing down and attacking fighters. He could curse Mako's name at times like this. He'd never equipped this thing with warheads or even launchers, just bigger guns. That was great, but hardly comforting.

On the warship side, the one that was being pummeled was in critical condition by now, and engines were failing. The one that was being left, mostly, alone, however was unloading volley after volley of turbolasers, warheads, and whatever else the frigate was armed with. All directed at the Justicar. The crew aboard the station was watching the space battle through their readouts, and they were hoping to see the cruiser go boom.

“Any Idea who’s in charge over there?” Riza asked Xirnan this after she prised her teapot away and back into more secure hands. She left the cup Xinran had poured on her desk, untouched.

“Considering where we are, plus the route I took I can think of a few.”

“And?”

“Asylum!”

“What?”

“If it is information you want, useful information, I would like asylum in the new republic as a valuable defector. Then I’ll tell you everything you need and everything you don’t know you need.”

At that Riza snapped her fingers and pointed at Xinran. In a moment two security personnel were at Xinran’s sides although not doing anything.

“You are forgetting your place here. You crash into my station and bring this mess straight to my doorstep and have the cheek to make demands of me? I can imagine the sort of work you got up to inside the empire. Do you really thing this mess is worth a few blackmail holos with your face edited out?”

“Riza!” Xinran’s raised voice nearly caused the security to jump him. “Do you really think I would deny the galaxy this beautiful face? I certainly don’t holoshop either, I mean that would reduce the authenticity.”

“…” A truly painful silence.  

“A-ny-way, I really did not think that sort of thing would be A-grade defect material. Instead I thought the location of the production facility of a new Imperial weapon. Aren’t you guys having enough trouble trying to take Coruscant as it is? You really don’t want the Empire making it any harder, right?”

“Better.” Riza directed the two guards to back away. “I assume you have some kind of documentation not just hearsay.”

“Do I look like a fool?”

“Yes.”

Strike Cruiser Justicar

An ensign stood up to face Ivan, holding a detatched dataslate in his hand, he read out a summary of the report.

"Gun crew reports they cannot target the fighters fast enough!"

Ivan looked over the scanner readouts in front of him and he seemed to think over the possibilities. Looking up, he turned to the ensign in the gunnery section and shouted back:

"The station is in range! Turn the turrets around to fire everything we have at that space station!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Commander! Shields are down to 25%! The Reactor is melting down!"

"Incoming torpedo!"

Ivan turned to the viewports to find a warhead headed straight for them. He swept his arm around towards the blast doors.

"EVACUATE THE BRIDGE!"

The crew stood to tackle the protesting Boxers who was spouting nonesense about going down with his ship while another unslung the Imperial crest and the banner of the Justicar from their hooks. Ivan was at the door urging every last bridge crew out, slamming the blast doors shut as an explosion was heard in the bridge.

"Secondary bridge, this is Commander Ivan, take over command of the vessel until I arrive. Primary Bridge Crew, come with me."

The dozen or so men carried between them the sheer weight of Megalo Boxers. The Overseer was nowhere in sight and he was not at the bridge, but that was not their concern anymore. Dragging, lifting, pushing and pulling the resisting Boxers down to the hangar bay, they forced him into a waiting shuttle with the flag and banner.

"Someone has to report this debackle, Captain. The Commodore does not tolerate failure. We will see you on the other side, after you have fulfilled your duty to the Emperor."

Tears were streaming down the Captain's face. Ivan was a loyal man to say the least and while everyone agreed they had been unfortunate to have him as their captain, none of the crew begrudged this 'honour' he was about to do for their memory and their loved ones back home.

"I...I..."

Before Ivan could close the ramp, he found himself being pushed up the ramp of the lambda class shuttle. He turned to protest but a lieutenant shouted behind the mob:

"Someone has to pilot this shuttle and its not the captain for sure! Send my regards to my wife and son, Commander!"

The shuttle ramp closed and a shudder indicated the ship was taking off.

"Lieutenant...you make a lousy liar."

---

"Secondary Bridge, this is Lieutenant Huskar. The Captain and the Commander are taking the flag and crest back to Imperial Centre to report their failure to the Emperor and his Warlord. Order all remaining TIEs to escort the shuttle out of the system!"

"Aye, Lieutenant. We have entered ramming velocity! Setting course for the primary target! Shields are down and hull integrity is reaching 50%. Engine power is down but we have accelerated enough. We should..."

An explosion ran down the length of the Strike Cruiser. One of the secondary reactors had melted down and ended with a spectacular explosion. Nonetheless, the cruiser adjusted course with the remaining engines and continued down a suicidal vector. In an open channel, the crew of the Justicar could be heard repeating off the top of their lungs over and over again:

"LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!"

---

The TIE Fighters veered off from the dogfight and the Strike Cruiser to surround the Shuttle escaping the inferno cigar that was the Justicar until just this morning. They numbered just six fighters now, but they were doing everything in their wits to keep fire off of the escaping shuttle.

"These guys must be insane," Artamis said aloud, bewildered by the actions these people were taking. A shuttle launched from the cruiser, to which the TIEs broke off to defend and the Republic fighters nearly all chased after.

"No. No! We have bigger problems than an escape vessel! Do you not see what they're doing? They're planing to ram the station!" Artamis screamed over the intercom, and a measure of feedback was something along the lines of "oshi-" before the majority of fighters turned back around and resumed laying warhead fire on the Justicar, though they were swiftly running out of armaments. The frigate, on the other hand, seemed to divert more crew to the guns, because they were firing off even faster than they were originally. It wasn't enough, however. The cruiser just kept comi-

BOOM!

The shockwave from the double-strike of proton torpedoes sent the Morvak wobbling away from its moment of drawing near to the Justicar.

"Sorry for the wait, Commodore." a voice came out over the communications lines. A Dauntless-class cruiser accompanied by a stolen Strike-class of their own, dropped out of hyperspace.

"Retaliator and Vengeance reporting in, we'll take it form here." the voice came though again. As their names were spoken, their IDs cropped-up on the scanners. The former was the Dauntless, and the stolen Strike-class was the latter. The Vengeance was suddenly swarmed by little specks, and as they drew nearer they were revealed to be one squadron of X-Wings, and one of Y-Wings. They split up between chasing down the shuttle and launching their own proton torpedoes at the Justicar, the Y-Wings taking the latter role. Once the Vengeance was in range, it threw out a tractor beam at the fiery, hurdling ship in an attempt to at least slow it down.

Artamis broke off his attack, leaving the Republic forces to deal with the situation, and he swept through the battlefield to a clearer section of the area. He thought surely this Imperial ship had sent out a distress beacon, or maybe the shuttle... he didn't know, but this all felt too easy for the stories he'd heard of the Empire's might.

(OOC: I looked on wookieepedia for ships the Alliance used and the Strike-class popped up as one of them. I figured, it's not a Star Destroyer, so why not.)

((OOC: Skipping my turn so more can be sorted out. Would just be more characters watching what has just been described.))

(OOC: Apparently, This BGM 2 minutes and a half in fits very well to this reading...according to Sean...well, I must agree it does...)

Strike Cruiser Justicar

"How long until the Shuttle leaves the gravity well?"

"Another minute, perhaps two, Lieutenant Huskar!"

Huskar turned to the Overseer returning to the secondary bridge. As always the masked men were difficult to read but there was a calm acceptance of the circumstances in the man, More than could be said of the crew so far. Nonetheless, no one seemed willing to abandon their posts for now, which was as best as could be expected.

"Once the shuttle enters hyperspace, I am considering surrender. Overseer. I will hear any objections if you have any."

"The databanks and the navicomputer have been wiped, Lieutenant. You may use your best judgement."

Huskar was taken aback by the simple acknowledgement of the Overseer to a dishonourable surrender. The old Lieutenant was expecting some strong protest to the notion but it appeared as if the representative from Intelligence had been prepared for this contingency.

"In the meantime, throw everything you've got! Keep their attention focussed on us! Let the Commander escape!"

---

Imperial mark II class Star Destroyer, Chimaera

"Captain, we will be exiting hyperspace in the next minute."

Lieutenant Valerius Morlenoth looked out through the viewports as the Captain's staff reported the status of the Star Destroyer. They had stumbled upon a hit and run raid against an Imperial convoy and had pursued a squadron or two of A-Wings and B-Wings into hyperspace having secured the convoy and sending it along the way. From the navigation charts, the planetary system they were jumping into was the only candidate for a base for raiding.

"All stations, stage one alert status."

"All stations, stage one alert status. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

"All fighter squadrons report ready for launch!"

"All Regiments report ready for boarding operations!"

"All transports report ready for launch!"

"All gunnery stations report ready to fire!"

"All systems report Green, Captain Pellaeon....reverting in ten...nine...eight...."

---

Strike Cruiser Justicar

"New reinforcements! One Dauntless class and one Strike class cruisers! Incoming!"

Huskar looked behind him knowing full well there were no viewports but he instinctively did so. Just as he did, he saw the Overseer underneath him...no, he was flying from an impact. Screams could be heard as terminals exploded in their crews' faces and the bridge was engulfed in fire. He hit something solid and he coughed blood in pain.

"Sensors...unit!...Did...did the shuttle....?"

Secondary explosions wracked the frame of the Strike Cruiser as a decapitated head rolled next to the disabled Lieutenant. Huskar could not feel beneath his ribs and he was sure he had hit his spinal cord the wrong way.

"Any...one? Is there...anyone?"

A third, fourth, fifth explosion sent pieces of the cruiser from the main superstructure. The ship began to disintegrate. Huskar plucked a locket from a pocket in his tunic, revealing a holographic image of his wife and children, and a separate frame with his son in Cadet's uniform.

"Heh...Julian Huskar...Serve the Empire in my stead...."

As the Chimaera reverted into real space, the Justicar ended its illustrious career of thirty tours in a raging inferno.

(OOC: The Sig picture has never been more fitting...)

As the Justicar was engulfed in flame, the barrage of fire from the frigate and two cruisers died down. They were done with their mission, and began moving on a patrol route in case of any Imperial reinforcements. The Y-Wings were on the way to return to dock, and the Station's own complement of fighters was entering the hangars for repair, recharge, and recuperation. The X-Wings from the Vengeance were still hot on the heels of the Imperial escape shuttle, but the last of the TIE Fighters were giving it their best effort to defend the shuttle. At this rate, it seemed that the shuttle would escape.

...In moments, that proved to be the least of their worries.

Out of the blackness of space, a long spear of grey metal sliced into the area, and alarms rang in every ship except the escape shuttle's. Comms chatter blazed and the Station's remaining fighters were rushed to completion. The Y-Wings diverted course and swept around to face the new threat. Out of the abyss of space came an Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer. Crew aboard the Republic frigate and two cruisers scrambled to their posts, changing shifts as fast as possible of their respective races to maximise efficiency. Guns were locked onto the Star Destroyer, but nobody dared fire yet. They had the advantage of numbers, certainly, but none of them were confident or foolish enough to launch the first volley against the staple war machine of the Empire.

Aboard the Morvak, Artamis happened to pick almost the exact spot the Star Destroyer was going to burst out from, so the warning alarm was a bit late to the party where he almost got part of his ship sliced off. In a panic, he drove the ship to maximum acceleration and flew his freighter close behind a row of turbolaser  batteries, attempting to avoid at least being shot if he couldn't avoid detection. He hesitated when he was near the tip of the spear, then gunned it.  Not sure of the mood the crew of the Destroyer was in, he weaved through the remains of the Justicar, hoping to avoid any incoming fire if the massive ship now behind him decided he looked like fun target practise.

The bridge of the Star Destroyer would have been greeted with this view. The remains of the Justicar, separating at fracture points and still on fire in some places with a Ghtroc 580 freighter flying through them, obviously flying away, and in the background Republic vessels all lining up in defensive positions around their space station, with a derelict frigate already in pieces floating broken before the ships. To the right of that scene, the Imperial shuttle fleeing from a swarm of X-Wings being held off by TIE fighters.

“Incoming! It, it’s a Mark II Star Destroyer!”

“What?” Said Riza.

“Crap.” Said Xinran.

“Ju-just what in the galaxy did you steal!” Riza turned around on Xinran.

“No way this is to do with me… ah hell might as well sell hard while I can.” Thought Xinran while scratching his head with embarrassment.



Xinran grinned. “Well it is nice to see that you at last believe me at least a bit Riza. Still it does seem like they are not giving up as easily as I thought.” Xinran Chuckled. “Wouldn’t happen to have any of those A-Wings going spare?”

“Why would I even consider lending you a starfighter?”

“Aww come on don’t be like that Riza. I did plenty of extracurricular stuff; did you think my skill set is entirely based around dressing up?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Meene. I’ll get it back to you with barely a scratch on it. I always remember how the anti-fighter and air-superiority squads complained about those weird boxy things. Just make sure it has some homing MERV’s and I can clear away a few squadrons for you.”

“…”

“Riza?”

“…”

“Oi. Riza, you there?” Xinran waved a hand in front of the commodore’s face.

“Until you say something that is based at least a bit in reality I am no longer talking to you.”

ISDII Chimaera

The bridge crew remained silent in the reversion to real space. For one, the warning sirens were too loud to have a decent conversation and the other, everyone was too busy trying to see if they had collided with something on their entry. By the time everything had settled down, Valerius approached the Captain.

"Scans report a derelict Loronar Strike class Cruiser approximately ten kilometers in front of us. A lambda class shuttle designated as attached to the Strike Cruiser Justicar and two TIE/LN fighters are headed towards us. They are about a kilometer off. Several rebel affiliated starfighters and two cruisers, one Strike class, one Dauntless class, appears to be holding a defensive line around a XQ2 class platform."

Pellaeon nodded as he studied the tactical readout. They had hoped to find a rebel raiding base relatively unprotected in light of the recent raid on an Imperial convoy. The Dauntless and the Strike cruisers were hardly a threat, the former was mostly anti-starfighter detail, the latter incapable of threatening a larger class without the proper load outs. The issue was the rebel starfighters. They could damage or even kill some of their TIEs. For the moment, a sort of Mantellan standoff was taking place, with neither side attacking the other.

"The rebels surely know they cannot win."

"You are correct in your assumptions, Commander, but how sure are you in our ability to win unscathed? We are on a long-term mission here in the outer rim. We cannot afford time wasted in a repair dock nor waiting for reinforcements."

The Commander appeared ready to shout down the junior officer for speaking out of turn but the Captain stopped him before he could make good on his instincts.

"Lieutenant, open the secondary hangar hatch and prepare to receive the shuttle and its two escorts..."

"One, Captain, the other one just got blown up."

"...one TIE fighter escort. Commander, please prepare all guns to fire on any rebel ship that gets too close to our shuttle and..."

"The last TIE has had it, Captain."

"Noted, Lieutenant. Comms officer, please send out on an open channel our intention to destroy any vessel that takes aggressive action. Get our Stormtroopers in Zero-G gear as well. We shall be salvaging that cruiser and rescuing survivors."

---

"This is the Imperial mark II class Star Destroyer Chimaera to all forces. Any aggressive action will be taken as an act of belligerence. We shall now commence search and rescue operations. Any interference shall be taken as an act of belligerence and in breach of Galactic Law. Stand down. This is your only warning."