The Bastion Project

Sector Zero, somewhere between Imperial Centre and Anaxes
Executor class Star Dreadnought, Auctoritas

"Thank you, Admiral Abrielle, for your good work."

"The pleasure was all mine, Commodore."

Playing with his long, straight silver hair, Abrielle gave off a smile that was enigmatic as it was sinister as he looked out the viewport of his flagship. A unique formation was present here, two half dead Executor class Star Dreadnoughts, the damaged Guardian, and the half completed Razor's Kiss.

Three star dreadnoughts, escorted by a combined force of eighteen Imperial mark II class Star Destroyers and their complementary escorts. Nebulon B Frigates, Strike class Cruisers, Carrack class light Cruisers, Vindicator heavy cruisers, enforcer picket ships, interdictor cruisers, lancer frigates, corellian corvettes and gunships. It was a grand Armada like no other seen since nor before.

The centerpiece around this formation was a single mobile repair dock. One of many under the Empire's service. More were en route. Each of them were undergoing covert tactics of jumping in and out of hyperspace at random times at random destinations to get here.

The Bastion Project was that much a secret.

It all began with talks from the Commodore about the initial plans post-unification of the major warlord factions. The most powerful ones remained, of course. But the great majority had fallen for the trap. Of course, no warlord came unprepared. None escaped the death sentence regardless.

The Commodore was adamant that physical capitals were a target. Imperial Centre was a symbol of the Empire's legitimacy and the Rebellion was bound to go after it at the earliest opportunity. To make this possible. The Rebels would need ships other than those made by their otherwise peaceful allies. The Bothans and the Mon Calamari, along with the Sluissi and the other alien races would no doubt step up production. Money would be gained from donations, taxations and of course...from assaulting corporatist worlds. But the rimward planets had one thing in common. They were all backwaters in the greater sense of things. None could match the productivity of Kuat, Corellia, Fondor.

The Rebels, as the Commodore mentioned. Were coming.

And so, the Razor's Kiss would have to be moved. A few changes and discrepancy in the orders for the workforce at Kuat would assure them that the military parade over Anaxes for the Commodore's declaration would need the Razor's Kiss mobile. It would be returned to the shipyard after the parade with escort. The higher ups in Kuat would be informed and they were informed of course, that completion of the Star Dreadnought would be completed in a deep space facility known only as Bastion.

Its location was not to be considered top secret, but its mobile nature was to be noted. More than any single planet, the operation would be guarded. It was a bold plan. If the capital was to fall and it was to be inevitable. Then the government shall be changed to a mobile base. That was Bastion. A space station, protected by the Star Dreadnoughts that were too large and clumsy to serve as any strategic or tactical value...but of great symbolic value in the fear it would represent.

The Guardian, the Razor's Kiss, the Whelm, the Auctoritas and one other Star Dreadnought, codenamed the Leviathan was to serve as the wings of a massive space station that would in turn serve as the connection as well as the centrepiece of the new government. To this end, the repairs and the final construction of the two Star Dreadnoughts would be completed here, rather than at Kuat. At the Kuat Drive Yards, things will move just as if they were finishing and repairing the very same star dreadnoughts in secret within their facilities. In covered dry docks that would lie relatively empty. There, they would construct more Star Destroyers for the Empire's navy. the duplicate parts for the SSDs would be used instead to make the smaller destroyers.

The knowledge that three Star Dreadnoughts, even if two of them were wounded or unfinished, would make the Rebels stall their advance towards the planet of Kuat. As if to compensate for this, Corellia was overwhelmingly reinforced.

This was phase one of the Bastion project. The second one was the Krytos Virus. The third...the destruction of Thyferra.

Abrielle looked back to the holographic image of the Commodore. Unphased. Unrelenting. Unamused.

"I look forward to the completion of your plan, Commodore. Though I must wonder, if Zurzak will be able to deliver on your wish to eliminate the bacta supply."

"So long as he makes them scarce, the price will rise. Krytos Virus that Isard left us with...shall help me bankrupt the Rebellion and divide their ranks. Rather than let Derricote deal with the project...I have one of my associates deal with its development. Their supply of test subjects greatly overwhelms our own capacity. Perfection is guaranteed..."

The ship' engine room was dark. It hummed with a reverberating growl that, in the eyes of a Republic soldier, could only be described as a beast hungry for the blood of the innocent. The band of Kuat Drive Yard engineers gathered at one side of the Razor's Kiss' maintenance supply room, and there the Republic SpecOps crew known as Wraith Squadron was making their facade a well-planned reality in the eyes of the real Kuat engineers and of the security personnel in the area.

The room was bright yet where normally such high visibility gave promise of cleanliness and hygiene, the supply room was the exact opposite. Tools were organised in rough piles that were denoted not by size or type but by durability. You had to rummage through a bucket to find the right bolt. Part of Aden wanted to stay in cover just to fix this horrid excuse for a room, but the Kuat engineers appeared to be unhindered by it. They would just reach in, grab what they needed, and get to work just as well as if it were all dress-right-dress and sorted.

"Right. What are we waiting for?" Aden asked as a reminder, and Lt. Orran answered.

"We're waiting for the change of shift. Once they do such, we'll leave with them and break off to continue the mission." She was much more a professional than Lt. Keya, and she seemed much more accustomed to covert ops than he was.

It was only a few more minutes before the shift changed, and Keya, Orran, Jhano, and the rest of Wraith Squadron's infiltration force left with the standby engineers. Once they were clear of observation, the eight people dispersed in pairs. The four teams scattered through the Razor's kiss, seeking out their different targets: a covert place to position a transponder, documents confirming the plans on the Bastion project, the lead official of the Bastion project and his closest advisors, and finally any ways to sabotage the operation. The last objective was, for the greater part, optional. The Republic didn't want another Imperial Warmachine, but they also didn't want to blow the cover and lives of their best operatives.

ESSD Auctoritas, Holding position over Space Station Scabbard of Damocles

Several dozen Imperial mark II class Star Destroyers sat, relatively motionless, around the heart of the Bastion Project. Like most Imperial Intelligence operations, it was a multi-layered, self-contradictory, individually contained but intimately linked multiples of layers of compromise and ambition. On the one hand it was constructing the largest space borne project since the Death Stars, on the other it hinged upon a naval operation to succeed to destroy a strategically vital target the loss of which would threaten to tear the very fabric of modern society. It was designed around an experimental and highly confidential artificially engineered bioweapon and the key foundation of them all was the end of an era with the destruction of a Galactic central hub.

Fleet Admiral Abrielle had been charged with the first project, Fleet Admiral Zurzak with the second, unknown scientists of questionable loyalties were charged with the third while the Rebels had been entrusted with the fourth.

It had so many places where it could go wrong. It was this very faulty logic that gave way to the Commodore noting that the plan was "perfect".

Two mobile docks had been assembled in haste in the middle of nowhere in the Galaxy. No gravity wells, celestial objects, distant stars far away enought it would take a lifetime to get there without hyperdrive equiptment. The greatest technological feat of the Galaxy since the Death Stars did not suffer the helpless nature of its predecessors. It was armed to the teeth before even the first reactors had been put in its place.

In a time when the defences of Kuat was stretched to skeletal, Corellia was in open revolt, Rebels had overrun Thyferra and Fondor was refusing to move...the war potential of these fifty odd modern Imperial star destroyers was a complete waste of resources. While the Empire crumbled into dust around them, these soldiers and guns stood silent babysitting three even bigger behemoths, one of which was fully operational.

Repairs on the Guardian and the final construction touches of the Razor's Kiss, were proceeding ahead of schedule. The Guardian's secondary reactors proved salvageable to the point that it primary damage needing repairs was in its hull and its armaments. The exact same parts needed to complete the Razor's Kiss meaning that the supplies would be shared between the two and hasten the process. It was much easier and cheaper to get the same parts in bulk that go to several different contracting parties for multiple parts of the ship. Hull repairs and armour weldings were superficial projects that concentrated in the outer layers of a warship, making it easier to just weld the parts in rather than cut into the heart of a ship only to seal it all up again.

The good news so far had enboldened the foremasters to offer to commence with phase two of the Damocles. Officially the Scabbard of Damocles, the space station had the length of just under ten thousand meters, half that of the Executor class Star Dreadnoughts, and a width of about a thousand meters. The entire superstructure was to be built by the very docks that currently repaired the two Star Dreadnoughts, but the majority of the innards was actually to be constructed piece by piece. Habitation quarters, hydro-supply systems, even its own dedicated series of hydroponic farms for self-sustainability of its crew and passengers. But most of these were long term construction to be completed on the move. It would take months, if not years of work to get the entire project finished. What they were here to construct was the outer superstructure, the engine pods and the reactor to make it mobile and powered, but most importantly, the connecting arms that would allow for up to six Star Dreadnoughts to dock with the Damocles.

Admiral Abrielle had no reason to deny the KDY foremen their expertise and so he had allowed them to go about their business as they saw fit...provided they understood that any delays were to be on their heads. To be bought by their heads and that the Admiral himself would be the ones to collect the heads of anyone else the young naval officer considered to be an accomplice in incompetence.

Several of the shifts were thus reorganized to begin construction of the arms for the superstructure. A large convoy of labourers had also been transferred by orders of the Commodore himself. Black clad workers got to work alongside the KDY engineers, mostly helping the latter do their foremens' bidding. Unlike the KDY employees, they worked themselves half to death, never resting, never tiring, but each and every one of them inhumanly methodical and logical in their work. They were also unnerving in that they all looked alike and were all human.

Naturally they were clones, but since the Cloning facilities from during the Clone Wars had been shut down and put to complete military use...it was uncertain why they had been brought here rather than at the front lines where their blasters could come in handy.

The Commodore's reply was as always, besides the point: "One can bug and reprogram droids to sabotage. One can entice slaves to revolt. You will find none of those disadvantages amongst these rejects. They will however, die in droves as the days pass by. Replacements will be sent. Just send the corpses and those that can no longer function properly back in the transports that bring you said replacements."

"Gamma Team in position." came a static-filled flicker from across the staging area. With the semi-sudden reallocation of engineers from the Razor's Kiss and the Guardian, Wraith Squadron was more separated than initially intended. Where they hoped to stay within a reasonable radius of each other, they were now scattered between the Kiss, Guardian, and Democles. It would be hard-pressed to get back together, but they had to do something to signal their readiness for departure.

Not that it would be anytime soon.

By the looks of it, this was about the most hush-hush of any previous Imperial project -- even the Death Star. Even if they hurried and got the objectives complete in a matter of hours, it would still take at least days to properly exit the grounds of the project. As Aden was thinking on how they were supposed to escape, signals crossed and his communicator picked up the last traces of a conversation before the glitch rectified itself:

"Just send the corpses and those that can no longer function properly back in the transports that bring you said replacements."

That was the saving grace to this operation. If Aden could get the rest of Wraith Squadron to play into the scheme, they could easily get off this installation. After that they could devise how exactly to pass themselves off as candidates to be shipped off. Once they were on the transport, it shouldn't be a problem securing the vessel. Shuttles carrying weak and dead are never guarded very heavily.

"That's enough musing, Keya." the Lieutenant told himself when he caught that he was just standing there looking ponderous. He picked up a wrench and got to work on a panel. He may be only pretending to be an engineer, but he helped in enough repairs to know how to bolt on metal plating. This also presented him the opportunity to get a transponder into the walls. When the guards weren't looking and the camera was facing to where he was just outside his field of vision, he quickly mounted a remote-activated transponder beacon within the panel and finished sealing it up.

Other remote-activation transponders were switched on throughout the three vessels, be it in ventilation systems, plumbing, or in the floors of refreshers. In total there were eleven transponders nearly randomly scattered through the entire Bastion grounds, and none were to be activated until Wraith was in safe proximity from this operation so that their situation would not be compromised.

As the change of shift came about, the members of Wraith filed back to the engine room workshop on the Razor's Kiss. That solved the rendezvous problem.

"All transponders secure?" Orran asked, and the rest of the team nodded an affirmative. "Good, that makes our lives easier." she allowed herself a sigh of relief before leaning against the wall. That was when Keya spoke up, in a more hushed tone than even Orran was.

"My communicator crossed with someone's conversation earlier. I have no idea who it was, but he said that those incapable of working or those who died working can be shipped off on transports that will arrive. I think that will be our way out of here."
His words lingered for awhile, before the rest of Wraith Squadron nodded.

"We'll need more planning on it, but good work, Keya. That's one step closer to where we want to be." that was the first time Llano spoke on this entire operation. He was a strange one, and kept to himself a lot. He had been that way forever, though, and was a bit of a bookworm. It made Aden wonder if he was any good at his job.

They came in dozens of ships. Massive cargo transports. Thousands of humans in plain black clothing. All bald, all with a bar code on the back of its neck. All of them seemingly without a soul but with varying degrees of intellect that told the observer that they knew their status in life and their relation to those around them. Unarmed, unmasked, they were all of similar build and features. Some looked more deformed than others but it was clear they all shared a template. They wore minimal protective gear. They marched down the docking bays, disembarking from their dull coloured shuttles from tubes they had presumably been confined to for the journey. Stasis tubes of sorts from the looks of them, powered probably only on the bulk transport ships, released from stasis for the short shuttle ride, wide awake by the time they arrived.

Soul-less was a term that fit these men well. They had the capacity and the knowledge, but they lacked a sense of self, a sense of being alive. They got to work on all three ships immediately, receiving orders like all other humans, but working non-stop. Nutrient fluids were their feed and it took them less than ten seconds per meal. They did not sleep, so they took six meals a day, three during the day, three at night. It kept them going and they kept on going until they started to falter and collapse within a week or two. Every fortnight, the ships came again, deposited more of these bodies and took the dead ones away.

No one had seen the pilots or the crew.

Their transponders had been pre-installed into the ships that served in the Project's defences...much to the chagrin of the commanders of these vessels who had not been informed that their charge had been tampered with. All of these vessels, however, did have one of the Commodore's men aboard as an advisor. The black clad Eyes of the Commodore. They did not advise and they did not interfere with naval affairs. They also expected to be ignored and took offence when the ship crew tried to stop them.

These men wore gas masks and helms that made them look like ugly stunted cousins of Darth Vader. They wore a black great coat or trench coat rather than the cape of the Dark Lord and they were definitely human. Their masks' lower mouthes parted to allow the Eye to speak or to consume food when needed. It was mostly customary for them to keep their helms on. Like the drone workers, they survived on these nutrient tubes, but unlike these drones, they spoke and acted like normal men, they sleept and leisured like normal...ish men.

The Eyes patrolled the construction sites as well. It was not unheard of for them to go in pairs into the Damocles, to inspect the works of the drones as well as the normal KDY employees. They also dragged off the fallen drones or had other drones do it for them. Like Stormtroopers, they had comm links inside their helmets. Unless they wished for their speech to be heard, they were silent stalkers, but in full communication with each other. The comm traffic was vibrant, but only in selected channels. Specifically channels that did not have much reach.

Not one of them noticed the Wraiths amongst the KDY men. The Drones generally only listened to foremen and proved they were capable of individual thought many times to common engineers' sorrow. After the third man sent through an airlock without proper suits...for asking a drone to take his place and do his work while the engineer sat and played Sabacc in his quarters with a few more of his colleagues, the KDY engineers got the point. These weren't mindless drones. They were simply very hard working drones.

Once they outnumbered the droids and KDY engineers, the KDY personnel had began to feel fear around these inhuman men. None dared speak out lest they became the fourth man out the airlock.

The Wraith crew began to grow truly weary from their time on the Bastion Project crew. The desire to leave began to eclipse and surpass the mission-orientation of completing their objectives. It was a severe drop in morale, but they still managed to pull through and keep up the operation and the facade.

The weeks on-board had allowed them to pinpoint many aspects of the operation. Their completed objectives managed to allow them to dot the entire operation with transponder beacons, and they even slipped a few nodes in the internal security systems that would allow an infiltration team to shut off key points of the security grid when passing through. It was turning out to be successful, but it was still going on longer than they had intended.

The story about the men blown out of the airlock added a menacing air to the recent, unnerving shift in personnel. Plans were formulating between the Wraiths but there was nothing concrete for their escape. Everything on-board so far was going smoothly but getting out would be the hard part. It was while one of the members of Wraith was out "fixing" a gun emplacement that they noticed something interesting.

Among the tight security of the ISD army, there would always be a recurring gap in their formation. It was a flaw of how they cycled themselves in patrol and was surely a key to get out, should a hot escape be necessary. A quiet getaway was preferred, but all options were considered viable until proven unnecessary.

"This is disturbing news. Not wholly unexpected, but disturbing nonetheless."

The holographic image of the Commodore stared down at the assembled group of individuals. The KDY chief construction co-ordinators for the Guardian, the Razor's Kiss and the Bastion respectively, three tracking devices not yet activated and Fleet Admiral Abrielle's staff.

"My Warlord...we are truly sorry. We will redouble our efforts to search for these in the futu..."

A dismissive wave of the hand silenced the KDY leaders to silence. Twenty four months ago, this would have resulted in a mass execution of all those possibly responsible at best. Since no one knew how the Commodore would act in such circumstances, the atmosphere was tense.

"Collect a list of personnel assigned to each of the sectors at the time of construction. Do nothing about the workers yet. I want them to tear the progress they have made this past week apart. All of it. Throw out the repaired sections, armour platings, tear it all off. Scrap them, melt them down and send for more parts. Tell each and every construction member why they are being forced to do this and until they fix this reduce their daily rations to a quarter standard, negate their pay for the past week and all pay until they return it to the current point. No exceptions. Make them sleep where they work. No more rest for everyone. If they are not eating at their work stations, sleeping at their work stations, they will be working at their work stations. Those who collapse are to be put into stasis and sent to me. Wipe their existence from the records. They will be dead soon after anyways."

The KDY representatives looked prepared to argue the point, before they reminded themselves they were surrounded by nearly fifty Star Destroyers with the full crew and troop complements all itching for a riot and thus an excuse to put these engineers out of comission and send for more.

"The Drive Yards will be compensated for any losses they incur due to this change in policy. I will make the call personally. None of these workers are to have access to the greater galaxy from this point onwards. No transmissions, no letters, no messages and no leaves. I will have my ships bring supplies needed from here on out. If any of your workers begin acting strangely, Representatives, you will inform Abrielle immediately and hand the workers in question over for interrogation. Their loss will be compensated back home."

The transmission ended and Abrielle looked to the KDY co-ordinators and noted they looked more ashen and dead than they had been before they had come in.

"You heard the Commodore. Get to work, and keep an eye out for more of these listening devices, glitches in the installed computers, tracking devices. Check every inch and do not take closed black boxes for granted. Everything. Airducts especially."

Abrielle made a brief calculation. At a quarter ration with no rest and minimal sleep, the KDY crew would all be dead or dying within the next fortnight. He sent out a command to the entire fleet. All ground forces stationed within Star Destroyers were to be ready for a quick response to any riots in the three construction sites. Rather than execute the guilty party for incompetence and lose their workforce, the Commodore planned to force the KDY men to rat each other out in a desperate effort for more food and better working conditions. The issue would be resolved if the spies in their midst was brought to heel. Desperate men did desperate acts. The blame would from the beginning fall on the spies.

The Fleet Admiral himself reported to the KDY engineers and workers. There were spies in their midst trying to sabotage the construction operation. Until they were found...they would be treated no better than dead slaves.

"They're what?" Varic asked, one of the few actual KDY engineers that kept in contact with Wraith. He knew nothing of their exploits as far as they knew, but they weren't sure anymore. The atmosphere had gone from tense to dark in a matter of moments as news of what had transpired between the KDY Foremen and the Imperial authorities spread like a virulent infection through the entire Bastion construction project. Those guards in black ushered everyone to their designated work station.

This caused quite the problem among the Wraith operatives, as their communication was effectively restricted without being able to routinely rendezvous at the supply station to discuss their next course of action. Things were stripped, and the Wraith operatives were clever enough to slip what transponders they could from the panels to their pockets. They were occasionally eyed suspiciously, but nobody said anything... yet.

It was only a matter of time before the outbreak of riot and insurrection came to pass aboard the many ships. Even with the fifty-odd Star Destroyers lining the area like credits on a Hutt, people were stupid and they got reckless when their lives were threatened. In fact, their very behaviour may end up being their downfall, since the stoic military professionalism could end up singling out those in Wraith squadron should a riot take place.

The new plan was that there was no plan. In times of war, sacrifices had to be made. If at least one member of Wraith got out alive, if for nothing else but to report on the operations and even possible location, then their mission was not a complete waste. Their synchronised effort would hopefully thin the response team and add confusion to any detection, allowing an individual to escape and return to Republic space. There were still devices planted throughout the operation. Even with the tearing apart of the work, the Imperial response was only partly correct. It was a risky endeavour, but a few already-constructed elements such as engine compartments and living quarters were not safe from the transponders and remote control points. They were less likely to be detected there and were a wise contingency plan should this very event happen.

Even in Republic Spec-Ops HQ wasn't the best thinking force sometimes, the operatives knew what they were doing and weren't about to let at least a month's work go to waste because an inconvenient foreman caught their toys.

Admiral Abrielle looked down from his bridge of the ESSD Auctoritas at the massive construction, the Scabbard of Damocles. He was frowning at the progress. A week had gone by, and they had not even dismantled the entire vessel yet. The holographic image of the KDY foremen looked collectively worried. They had come to him today to inform them their work crews had dismantled and undone everything they had achieved since half a month prior.

"You forgot the superstructure and the engine pods."

The KDY foremen looked at each other as they tried to explain to him that that was the only things keeping the atmosphere inside for the work crews to survive.

"Very well. KDY. You are hereby relieved of your contract if you cannot fulfil them. You allowed spies into your workforce and refuse to complete the project in a timely fashion. I wonder how much you would lose from this contract not going through..."

"You cannot do this!"

"You will be surprised to hear then, that he can."

A tall, dark figure appeared in a separate holo channel. Long straight black hair and deathly pale face. Sharp aquiline features with dark eyes. A trench coat with archaic ornaments and medals framed a white collared shirt and a black tie. Black leather boots ran up the trench coat's skirt that came down below his knees and just above his shins.

"The Trenchcoat finally appears. Your ETA?"

"Keep the KDY engineers in the Sheathe until I arrive, Admiral. Try not to let them escape. I have much to question them for their lack of loyalty to the Empire."

The transmission cut off as Abrielle sighed as if he was used to this kind of non-response by now.

"Inform your work crew they are free to remain in the Sheathe until the Trenchcoat arrives. If anyone shows an effort to try and escape, let them. My TIEs are in need of target practice. I am sure there are a few short range transports in the prefabricated hangars we use to transport the goods to. You will be allowed to go home after you have been interrogated by Trenchcoat's men. Co-operate and you should be able to return safely."

(OOC: Me here, filling in for... me. Since my Clean Slate of removing all my alts this got ... abandoned. Anyway, I'll NPC it from here on out using the same characters.)

"Did you hear"? the Kuat Drive Yard workers whispered, and Aden and the rest of the Republic infiltration group listened in, "there's been a fuss with the Imperials. Apparently some big-time commander or something is going to make an appearance. They say he's looking for spies." all the engineers gasped, and the Republic infiltrators followed suit, as part and parcel of the charade.

"So, they're onto us." one of the soldiers said, once they found a secluded spot to converse.

"Seems so," replied Keya, "we'll have to act fast, or take cold comfort in the fact that we've at least secured a reliable tacking network." he finished. Everyone kept their voices low, and should one of the anonymous guards stroll by they quickly changed subjects to something relevant to their cover job. They never skipped a step either, always picking up the conversation as if it had reasonably continued between times that guards would walk past. Wraith Squadron was indeed in trouble, and options were dwindling.

"Do any of you have that new serum they formulated?" another member asked, shifting his step a little. Everyone grew pale. They knew what he was talking about.

"You mean the one that kills you?" asked Keya, incredulous, "but we don't even know if you'll revive like you're supposed to. It could be suicide." he said, straining to keep his voice down. That statement alone was testament that at least one of them had the serum.

"Well, we're running low on options aren't we? We'll probably die anyway if we're caught." he said. Then everyone looked to each other in recollection. They jointly said "Varic" and set out to find him.

Some time passed, and they intercepted Varic in the middle of a call. They didn't hear what he was talking about, but it sounded like he had managed to partition some time to call his family. They wondered what that cost... and who the family was. They nodded to one another and began a test of sorts. Varic was emaciated-looking and ill. If he died now, nobody would expect it. In a few swift movements in a tiny gap between patrols, they knocked him out and injected him with a dose of the serum previously mentioned. They took him to a secluded corner and gathered in such a way as to block view of him. An hour passed, which was supposed to be the effectiveness of the toxin before you would self-resuscitate.

He never stirred, and he still had no pulse.

They all looked grim, and as the patrols passed they dispersed, one by one, until poor Varic was left dead in a corner like many of the KDY personnel before him.

They were lost. Their only hope was proven to be a poison than a tool, and there was no longer any window of opportunity. No clever plots or cheap tricks. Still, they had to try, didn't they?

"I'll do it." said Tsia Leav, one of the female members. She was the youngest, and was the one they always said would be the least useful of the group. She looked frightened, and likely wanted to choose this death than one inflicted by Imperials.

"I'll take it. They'll put me on the corpse runners and I'll be gone. For better or worse." she said, sputtering out words as fast as possible before she reconsidered. Nobody argued, and nobody tried to talk her out of it. They injected her, dose proportionate to mass, and she passed out cold after a bubbly giggle. Whether she lived to rendezvous with the Republic, or died then and there, they would never know. As they got back to work, Aden saw her body dragged through the halls to one of the airlocks. Undoubtedly she was thrown to the shuttle to be taken... somewhere.

(OOC: I believe this will serve the plot. What's left of Wraith hopeless and lost on the Bastion with no chance of escape, and only one lone survivor makes it off the ship to tell her horror story. Feel free to do what you feel is necessary to finish up this chapter of the story.)