Artus Prime

Artus Prime

Astrographical Information

Region: Outer Rim

Sector: Kwymar Sector

System: Artus System

Orbital Position: 1

Moons: 1

Grid Coordinates: P-16

Physical Information

Class: Terrestrial

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable

Primary Terrain: canyons, toxic rivers

Points of Interest: various mines

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: mine crabs

Immigrated Species: humans

Primary Language(s): Galactic Basic

Faction Affiliation: neutral

Defense Rating: level 2

JediRP Canon History: Artus Prime is most famous for being the planet where the priceless ore known as cortosis is found and mined, although in its mines lightsaber crystals can also be found. As such, it has been hotly contested. First the Empire ruled, then it was taken over by the Rebel Alliance, then the Empire again. Eventually the Black Sun took over operations and signed treaties with both the New Republic and the Empire, allowing both factions to mine cortosis and crystals there. In recent years, its mines have fallen into local planetary ownership.

((Summary compiled by Amidala Skywalker. Thank you!))

Draylo set the B-wing down gently and silently a little ways outside the compund, just outside of sensor range. He jumped down from the cockpit and looked around. A barren, rocky world with toxic rivers created by the wastes of the Imperial mining opreation, Artus Prime ws not an inviting place. Draylo had seen worse, but this was pretty bad, as planets went. He sneaked around the back of the compund, with nothing but a holdout blaster in his hand. After silently dispatching one of the patrolling miners with a quick twist of the neck, he donned the uniform and mask, and entered the mines.

OOC: One

IC:

*A series of sheltered, fortified Compounds stretch along a ravine where Imperial mining crews dig deep into the Earth of Artus Prime searching for a single, priceless mineral known as Cortosis, a mineral once commonly found in the most unassuming of vibroblades but now the complex mineral has evolved into a priceless commodity and one the Imperials plan on keeping a large stake in.*

A thirty year old stands before a series of monitors observing the activities in a number of Mining sites in a compound planted near the oldest of the mining shafts and arguably one of the most well-defended. A platoon of Stormtroopers and a small squad of Dark Troopers remain ever vigilant. However, constant vigilance is not without its errors, for a small B-wing snuck inside the Imperial defenses and managed to avoid detection as did the little man who walked out of that vessel.

The thirty year old Commander Gran stalked back and forth observing his cameras, a routine copied all across the complex compound by numerous other lower-level officers of the Imperial War Machine.

*Constantly on patrol, a small squad of Imperial Stormtroopers surveyed the area around the smallest and most insignificant of the Cortosis mines, the one overlooking the polluted river and the destroyed eco-system of Artus Prime. The same insignificant location where the single infiltrator walked and killed a single miner, whose body has yet to grace the awareness of the Imperial Troopers on patrol.*

OOC: EDITED as per request...

*As the hours continued to pass, the Imperial Stormtroopers picked up on something that was amiss. A body, seemingly a miner, stripped of his armor and belongings lay dead.

The Stormtrooper issued a Comm to Cmdr. Gran whom instantly angered... A more in-depth scan of the surroundings picked up nothing unusual... The infiltrator was within their ranks.

The Dark Troopers shuffled out, searching for a Force-user, likely the only type of person capable of avoiding the detection of the Imperial soldiers.*

OOC: Mods: Up to your approval... Sean, please post-pone until this is settled.

IC:

Commander Gran had lived a wonderful life in the Artus Prime mines, the backwater arsehole of the Empire. By the time he was fifty, he croaked, however, he was lucky, in the comparative sense that most of the people working the Cortosis mines didn't last past their thirties. Nevertheless, he was replaced by an Imperial Mining Engineer who enjoyed very much the more liberated work environment of Artus, seeing as the Empire was always busy with their own neccesities, Artus had been rather profitable for him since he took power as the Governor of the Mining Planet.

Cortosis was a special material, after all... But, just as time wore on, some of the Imperial Navy's closed-kept defeats traveled down the ladder to reaching the not so clean ears of this corrupt Governor. Obviously, concerned with the raking in of Credits, he ordered a stop to the Mining and demanded a resurgence of Laborers begin building Base Defenses.

However, the older base was kept up to date with less recent information, only up to the Golan II Defense Platforms, enough to make a difference in a Battle and by then, the Empire would respond, anyhow...

So within the month, the broken Miners were set to work on something completely different, the crafting of a Golan II. It was not too long or too arduous compared to mining and for once, they got to see the sun. Some of the more refined Technicians and Engineers went to work, retrofitting Artus' many mining ravines with Turbolasers and Ion Batteries to prevent a hostile Fleet from taking hold.

The smaller Civilian businesses were reshaped and a few TIE Fighter and Z-95 Squadrons took patrol above the skies of Artus Prime. Enough to halt and delay the complete takeover, hopefully with enough time to allow the Imperial Navy to get off it's haunches and do something.

A few Communications Buoys were set out to bounce communication to other Imperial Outposts and keep tabs on Fleet Maneuvers. Finally, Space Mines were released into the upper atmosphere. When completed...

The Artus Outpost held a Golan II Defense Platform, one squadron of TIE Interceptors, two squadrons of TIE Fighters and two squadrons of Z-95 Headhunters, in addition to three-hundred scattered Turbolaser Cannons and two-hundred Ion Batteries.

The Undertaker appears from hyperspace, a comfortable distance away from Artus's defenses. The ship's pilot quickly keyed the comm unit for Artus' traffic control as it neared Artus' atmosphere.

"Howdy, Atrus Control. This is Draak Feltyr, captain of the Undertaker speaking. Who do I need to talk to about purchasing cortosis?"

The Communications Buoy picked up the new ship and relayed it's immediate read-out to the Imperials down below. The Governor just overlooked the report and ordered a fighter escort, two Z-95s and two Interceptors to escort it down to a hangar bay.

"Captain... a hefty wallet, a clean slate and a quick bioscan. Nothing, too intrusive, security reasons, after all..."

The Security Detail moved towards the Landing Platforms and an encrypted comminique was sent to the Imperials on Trulalis. Making them aware of recent business.

Draak Feltyr emerged from the Undertaker, clad as a dark sentinel. Indeed, covered in jet-black armor and a long nerf leather trenchcoat, with the hilt of a long vibrosword protruding slightly under it, he appeared to be a force to be reckoned with.... or a Goth, depending on who you asked. Not that Feltyr would be too happy about that comparison.

He left his many-tentacled droid behind with the ship to guide the loading crew when they would haul aboard the cortosis the duo would undoubtedly purchase. As for Draak, he confronted the officer of the hangar.

"Greetings. Who would I speak to concerning the purchase of cortosis?" the bounty hunter said, his words being spoken very precisely, as though he were an Imperial, not a bounty hunter.

"Captain Feltyr, come here."

The Technician motioned for a machine and extended his hand to greet the Bounty Hunter/Prospective Buyer.

"Please extend your hand and prepare for bioscan, present Imperial Cargo Request and Authorization."

Draak Feltyr said nothing, merely digging in one of the pockets of his trenchcoat for all the necessary IDs with his left hand, and presenting his other hand for the bioscan. He tilted his head slightly, as though impatient for the bureaucratic necessities to end and for business to begin.

As the Technician dug the needle and drew blood from Hamis and began inspecting it, his counterpart began scanning the Authorization.

"Excuse me, sir, but you do not have the neccessary clearance. There is no official documentation saying you filed this request at the Imperial Office for Labor and Consumer Affairs. Surely, you have more up to date paperwork or you must leave."

It was then that the computer began to mutter a silent alert to the Technician's eyes as he sat behind the desk.

Then in an inaudible whisper, except to the other man processing Feltyr's request, "Sir, he's got nanites."

The Imperial Clerk turned with a horrified expression and boots began to clamber forwards, E-11 Rifles drawn.

"Due to the breach in security, your ship is to be impounded and your data files scanned. We have reason to believe you've been in contact with Rebels, Mr. Hamis."

As the soldiers surrounded the Hunter, weapons charged and ready to fire, more boots came upon the ramp to his ship and astromech droids jacked into his Data Systems...

((OOC: Um, no, my character does NOT have nanites. Renn's strength-enhancement is due to his armor.))

Renn actually smiled.

"Perceptive, are you?" He turned to face the squad of stormtroopers. "Very well, I surrender," he said, raising his hands.

Behind him, Puffi Maa blatantly refused to hand over his weapons, openly struggling with Imperial stormtroopers, tentacles lashing out and knocking his foes to the ground. When one of them stepped back and prepared an ion grenade, Renn stepped forward, not heeding the blasters trained on him.

"Puffs, stop. We cannot win this fight. Give it up." Out of sight, he gave the tentacled droid a surrepititious wink. The droid returned it, his single eye blinking off. Renn removed both their weapons and his sword, presenting them to the guards.

OOC: Imperial Palace Thread, 3-4 months ago with the Capt. Phillep alias.

IC:

"Good... Now, follow please..."

The Soldiers surrounded Hamis and Puffi Maa and escorted them towards a brig. The droid and the owner were separated, an ion grid about the droid and a force-field around Hamis.

Meanwhile, droids and Troopers began to scour the vessel and a Comm was sent towards the Fleet, alerting the Admiral to attention.

((Oh... *curses* I didn't use this alias for so long that I forgot about it.))

Renn Hamis could not let the information carried in the Warwitch fall into Imperial hands. So, he had to destroy it or simply move it.

Unknown to Renn's captors, that wink was significant. It meant for Puffi Maa to operate independently from Renn, not following any instructions. And, well, Puffs had the equipment (and the devious mind) to cause some serious havoc. Renn's disregard of the odds also rubbed off of him, making him not care about the consequences of his actions, even if that meant getting himself dismantled or his partner killed. Combined with his robotic insanity, that made him one incredibly reckless, potentially suicidal droid.

Part of the droid's equipment was a miniature radionics antenna. Although it was short-range, unreliable, and impossible to encode, it made for a surprisingly effective tool, in the right circumstances.

A radionics signal went out to the Warwitch, giving the onboard computer very explicit instructions. It immediately locked down all of its input/output nodes, instead giving the swarming astromechs a rather nasty computer virus. Indeed, the Imperials aboard were extraordinarily surprised when they were attacked by a small army of astromechs. Even though the trained stormtroopers easily fought off the swarming droids, the first part of Puff's "master plan" was completed, which was to distract the Imperials aboard.

The second part was about to begin, for Puffi had programmed the Warwitch's autopilot.

Oh yes, Artus Traffic Control was shocked to see the Warwitch suddenly emerge from the hangar, its reactor pouring everything into engines and shields. Even a TIE Interceptor would have a hard time keeping up with the insane maneuvers that it was pulling off. Puffs would have been greatly amused to watch the stormtroopers struggle to keep their balance in the ship, unable to even reach the cockpit to attempt to regain control.

He shuddered visibly; vomit was no doubt flowing like water. That would be a job that Renn would clean up--as though he was going to clean up the organics' mess. Assuming, of course, either one of them survived this merry little sabotage spree.

And, to top it all off, the Warwitch was constantly broadcasting its flight data, using Rebel encryption codes, to a Rebel fleet hiding somewhere nearby...

"Here we come, my friend," Forn said to herself as the first part of the battle began.

By her command, the four powerful warships, their deployed and ready starfighters, along with the thirty-six Skipray Blastboats that made up the powerful Rebel flotila emerge into the space above Artus. Almost immediately, several of the squadrons begin to sweep down upon the Imperial hangers, filling them full of proton torpedoes and concussion missiles, effectively shutting down the Imperial snubfighter threat before it could even congeal itself; however, some had scrambled by then. The Blastboats, with the Defender-class Star Destroyer Solemn Vow in support, converge on the Golan II defense platform, ripping away its shields within seconds in the face of a withering hail of fire that soon has the station falling out of its orbit

The other ships in the squadron, another Defender-class and two Mediators, begin using their ion cannons and tractor beams to pick off the space mines before the devices had a chance to home in on the intruders. Several controllers noted the odd behaviour of one ship in particular, and Forn ordered a squadron of A-wings to look after it. The remaining starfighters, meanwhile, began to strafe the Imperial base structure, sparing the mines and taking care not to hit the prison, in case a certain person was still inside.

Within thirty minutes, the Imperial presence on Artus was rendered untennable; the turbolasers and ion cannons scattered on the surface were fully active by then, but they were not enough to keep this Rebel contingent from taking over. Co-ordinated attacks by starfighters, followed by atmospheric bombardment by the Defenders, soon had the majority of the emplacements on the hemisphere neutralized, with minimal loss to the attacking forces. Surprise had been near-total, and was being effectively expoited as the many starfighters and warships proceeded to clense this world of the Imperial shadow.

But even as she oversaw the engagement, Forn knew that this was just the beginning...and in fact, she was counting on it.

Artus was a valuable asset to the Empire. It contributed tons of cortosis ore toward the elite troopers and toward the killing of Jedi. No way would it go down without a fight.

From the planets surface, lances of energy burst forth and begin causing damage to the Rebel floatilla. 36 TIE Defenders speed amongst the the Rebel fighters, doing their best against overwhleming odds. But they would not be able to keep the planet under Imperial control without any reincorcements. Luckily, they were on the way.

Meanwhile on the surface, stormtroopers and Elite troopers began setting up invasion defenses and traps. Anyone Rebels olders that were unlucky enough to land on the planet would be met with a hail of laserfire. but even that would not hold off against the Rebel forces.

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Meanwhile on the Bridge of the Jupiter, Evan Kerry had been summoned to the quarters of Admiral Phillip. They to discuss a possible promotion for Kerry for his work at conquering worlds.

Upon reaching the door Kerry raps and awaits to be let in. but no answer comes to him. The door does not slide open like it has. Evan inputs the access code for the door and it hisses open. He strides in to be met with an unfriendly site. He kneels down before the deceased form of Admiral Phillip. Off to the side, a needle could be seen, with some sort of drug in it. Evan shows no remorse. He had felt friendship within the Admiral but no kind of friendly relationship. He was the leader of the Empire now. He was the only hope the true power of the galaxy had. He shut the door and began to make it into his own office.

Soon Evan Kerry emerges from the headquarters of the Admiral of the Empire with a new uniform on. It was the old uniform of Admiral Phillip with one minor change. Different medals and a new name plate. the new Admiral marched to the bridge of the Jupiter to check on his fleet.

"Status of Imperial Star Destroyers."

(oc:I will be changing the names of the ships since I do not remember them.)

"Pride: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Greed: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Envy: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."\

"Anger: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Lust: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Gluttony: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Sloth: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Status of Republic Star Destroyers."

"Satan: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Judas: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Status of Super Star Destroyer."

"Jupiter: Weapons 100%, Shields 100%, Hull Integrity 100%, Crew 100%."

"Thank you."

"Now what about our communications with our holdings."

"Contact with Trulalis, Hoth, and Tattooine are still optimal. Artus contact has been cut off."

"I say we pay our little pay planet a visit. Just in case prepare, all aings for attack and have all Imps to begin to charge the weapon systems. Put shield batteries toward the front and prepare for attack."

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The Imperial fleet bursts forth from hyperspace to witness the assualt of Artus. Kerrys eyes open in horror as he sees the blasting of Artus into oblvion.

"Jam all Rebel coms and open fire on those ships. I want nothing left but molten steel. Send all fighters into combat. I want the X-Wing and A-Wings to copy the manuevers of the Rebels and begin flying in their formations. I want you to start picking them off slowly. Have them open fire on our own fighters but I do not want them to destroy our fighters."

"Have our YTs lead our other fighters into attack pattern Sadism. Now go."

The fighters begin to do their damage. The the Imperial SDs begin firing their weapons immedietely while the Republic SDs begin charging their lasers. Within minutes, one of the warships had been taken out of the fight with another severely damaged.

"Your move my worthy opponent."

((Kerry, that tactic--having X-Wings and A-Wings fly in Rebel formations--will be useless. You don't have the Rebel IFF codes, so they will register as enemies. And oh, yes, the Rebels are already prepared for the fight--their lasers are very much charged.))

Renn was fairly confident that he wasn't going to live through this. I mean, when the Imperials caught on to Puff's streak of sadism, he would probably be executed. That, or be forced through a series of interrogations that would make him wish he was dead. Only after he had spilled what few secrets he had would he be allowed the luxury of death.

So, Renn was having some fun with the poor guards stationed at his cell. His feet were propped up against the force field, lying back on the metal floor. He ignored the constant stream of sparks emitting from the wall.

Renn was whistling, extremely loudly, scaling up and down the audible range with annoying speed and volume. Although it appeared that he was only trying to irritate the pair of stormtroopers stationed there, he was trying to hit the frequency that controlled the force field. Actually hitting the frequency was extremely unlikely, but it was fun to torture his guards.

The stormtroopers beyond the force field shifted their weight, as though annoyed, and glanced at each other. Now came the fun part. Now that Renn knew that his tactics were annoying them, he could really have some sadistic fun.

Renn had once been told that he had a beautiful baritone voice. Although he could not confirm it, the poor souls that had the pleasure of accidentally hearing him sing had quickly commented that yes, he did have a wonderful talent, perhaps even having the potential to perform for Coruscant Theatre. ((I'm not sure whether I'm being sarcastic or not ))

So, he switched from his whistling, and began singing a Corellian spiritual that he had long forgotten the words to. Not that he couldn't invent his own.

"I'm a-gonna be free, you can't stop me." Renn barely heard an irritated sigh come from one of the stormtroopers.

"I'm a-gonna be free, yes-sir-ee." He began snapping his fingers to the rythmn, and began singing deliberately off-key, voice steadily getting flatter and flatter.

"Free as the hawk-bat, free as the mynock. Ain't nothin' gonna hold me back, not sir not these bars." Renn began having trouble thinking up new lyrics. Time to change songs.

"Make him stop, please." One of the stormtroopers growled.

"Can't. He's to be kept here unharmed."

Renn hit an unpleasantly high note.

"The hilllllllssss, are alive...."

"Oh, God, no. I know that song."

"With the sound...."

The aforementioned stormtrooper cried softly in pain.

"Of Music....." Renn forgot the words to the old song, and began inventing some. "The songs they have sung... for all of time."

"Shavit, shut up!" One of the stormtroopers forgot his discipline, and was bellowing in front of the field.

Just in time to see Renn mooning him, his naked, pale behind wobbling back and forth... back and forth... back and forth....

With an rather feminine yelp, his rear touched the force field, giving him an unpleasant shock.

"You pinched my butt!" He shrieked at the guard.

"Alright, I vote that we shut off the force field for just a second, and stun him. If anyone asks, he was trying to hurt himself."

"Agreed."

Renn was impressed. This plan worked far better than he had ever hoped. The force field started to opaque as it weakened..... And Renn threw his trench coat onto the helmets of the two stormtroopers, temporarily blinding them. It took them perhaps half a second to tear it off. But by then, Renn was already at hand-to-hand range.

He kicked the one on the left in the codpiece. Even through the armor, it had to hurt, and the trooper's grip loosened on his blaster rifle. Renn made good use of it, quickly snatching the weapon, and tracked stun fire up the other trooper's torso. A friendly bop to the helmet with the rifle's butt dazed the one recovering from the crotch-kick. Another stun bolt dropped him.

Renn took a few seconds to appropriate their equipment, arming himself with one of the E-11 rifles, and stripping them of all of their spare power packs and grenades. Renn made sure to take their vibroblades.

Hmmmmm... Renn had now escaped from prison, only to get himself into a situation in which he would almost certainly die. At least the Imps hadn't taken his armor. Already the other Imperials stationed in the brig had noticed the disturbance, and about a dozen rifles were pointed in Renn's general direction. Good thing that he had taken the grenades.

He set two of the concussion grenades to blow in eight seconds, and reattached them to their respective gunbelts. With a quick prayer, he hurled the two belts into the control room, spraying blaster fire in its general direction. The stormtroopers and officer stationed there didn't even have time to take cover. Fortunately, Renn was back in the safety of his prison cell. When he stepped back in the corridor, the control room was a blasted ruin, bits of burned armor and bloodied flesh scattered about. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of spent explosives, and charged into the halls.

Surprisingly, the corridors were actually empty, though the thuds of turbolaser fire and explosions resounded in the distance. Renn managed to find his and Puff's equipment in a nearby armory. Puffs was a little more difficult to reach, though.

It was a brief, though extraordinarily bloody fight. The guards surrounding Puffs might have expected a Rebel assault team. They certainly didn't expect a single man wielding a long vibrosword. Renn cut--pun unintended--through the few men stationed there in no time.

Renn smiled as he brought down the ion grid surrounding Puffi Maa. The droid appeared genuinely pleased to see him. That, or he was pleased to have his blasters returned to him.

"Puffs, call in the Warwitch. We're out of this dustbowl."

Within 15 minutes, the homicidal droid and his biological partner tore through the Imperial base, escaping in the freighter.

"Admiral Dodonna, come in. This is Hamis calling; we've managed to escape, and need orders." Renn wasn't surprised that he was being jammed.

As for his partner, Puffi Maa had already powered up the twin turrets, and was blasting unlucky TIE fighters and masquerading Imperial X-Wings and A-Wings out of Artus's unfriendly skies. Puffs hummed off-key in droid happiness. He was so pleased that he had updated the Warwitch's tracking algorithms.

((Renn is right, without the IFF codes, you may as well have ignored their addition))

This was what Forn had been waiting for. The Imperial fleet had fallen right into her trap; the day would be hers. As predicted, the newly-arrived Imperial ships had jammed comms...

"Weapons, activate Agent Orange. Ops, get everyone back into space!"

The Solemn Vow, currently engaged against one of the Imperial-class star destroyers (and giving the vessel a deadly pounding), fired off the predetermined signal; a huge flash of orange energy, projected by low-power laser beams directed at the system's primary. This served the duel purpose of temporarily blinding the Star Destroyer's sensors, allowing the Defender-class vessel to destroy the attacking warship. "One down," Forn muttered to herself as the ship and her starfighter escorts moved on to engage one of the Republic-class warships, which was decidedly weaker then a Defender-class vessel.

Controllers on the bridge noted the peculiar actions of a number of Imperial starfighters...several X- and A-wings with Imperial IFF codes were attempting to join with the Alliance formations, and were firing on their own Defenders, damaging about a dozen before being engaged and destroyed by their Rebel counterparts. Several YT-class freighters, that never flew with Alliance battle fleets anyway, were also noted, hunted down, and eliminated.

Elsewhere in space, the starfighters had, as ordered, immediately disengaged whatever it was that they had been doing and made for the waves of incoming hostiles. This was where their extensive training would come to bear; in streaks of determined attacks, they were able to thin out the vast numbers of Imperial snubfighters beyond their own dreadful losses, but without further assistance, they knew that they wouldn't last for very long. Forn knew that they wouldn't have long to wait, but as she watched the status reports, her heart was feeling for her men, the ones she had trained...their deaths would not be in vain.

The Skipjacks, meanwhile, were swarming about the other Republic-class vessel, thinning its shields quickly with their powerful weapons. Just as highly-trained as the rest of the Rebellion starfleet, they were able to cover each other from the fighters as they made their runs, pummelling against the Imperial's defencive screens with Nova Flares and steadily draining them. Everyone in the fleet was giving the Imperial Super-class star destroyer a huge berth...only one vessel in the Rebel fleet could take that behemoth on, and it would soon arrive. But it was trying its best to throw its weight around...

The Defender-class Star Destroyer Farseer was holding her own against two Imperial-IIs, but her shields were rapidly draining; Forn ordered the ship to fall behind the Solemn Vow dragging her antagonists with her to be enveloped in fire from both vessels. The two Mediator-class ships, the Jack Black and the Nebula, being handily superior to the Imperial IIs that they were up against, were doing well enough, but again, they were facing overwhelming opposition...it was just as the shields aboard the Nebula failed completely, and she began to take severe hits against her armour, that things began to turn around.

With a flare of psuedomotion, six warships, two Mediator-class star cruisers, three MC90a star cruisers, and the awesome countenance of the Star Defender Galan's Pride entered the system on the other side of the weakened Imperial fleet, surrounding and trapping it. Their starfighters, deployed and flying alongside, pounced upon the Imperial antagonists with a vengeance, wiping several squadrons out of existence before they knew what had hit them. The Galan's Pride, primed and ready for action, swept alongside the Imperial SSD, and began to tear into it with its hundreds of turbolasers and ion cannons, peppering the enemy vessel's shields as her fighters spread out to aid the rest of the Alliance fleet.

The Mediator-class vessels Sullustan Arsenal and Freedom's Reprieve took the pressure off of the two Defender-class warships, taking on the Imperial-IIs that they were engaging, trapping the enemy warships in a deadly crossfire. The MC90a ships moved to aid the Jack Black and Nebula, doing the same thing to the Imperial warships that were engaging them. Fire was being traded at a furious rate, but the Alliance's superior ships and superior men and training were sure to carry the day for them, but losses would be heavy. The Nebula was taking heavy damage, and was forced to withdraw before she could be destroyed, but the Jack Black was hanging on.

Rebels: 1 Imperials: 0

"Damn Rebel trickery. Give me the status of the fleet."

"The Pride is down sir. And the rest iof the fleet is taking heavy damage. What are your orders sir?"

"Have the Jupiter open fire on the Jack Black with everything it has. Have the Satan and the Judas launch all fighters and then get their asses out of here. Have the Anger, Greed, and Gluttony, take outt he Golans Pride. Have our X-Wings and A-Wings regoup with Alpha flight and sweep across the Nebula, and take it out. I want Squadrons from the rest of the fleet to go heasd to head with the Rebels."

Within minutes of the order, all pilots and soldiers had recieved their roders and were beginning to execute them. The Jupiter moves toward the wounded ship and opens fire with hundreds of misiles and turbolaser. The Three IMperial IIs move around the Golans Pride , in a triangle pattern and riddle her hull with fire and shrapnel.

The Satan and Judas follow their orders and all their fighters are soon deployed. In the blink of an eye, the two ships have left the battle and head to a remote outpost.

((OOC: A Viscount-class Star Defender is about 5-10% better then an Executor-class SSD. Three Imperial IIs are not going to kill it.))

But the Satan and Judas, being Republic-class warships and decidedly inferior to their opponents, were never able to make the jump. They were destroyed by the combined weight of Skipjack Wing, and the Solemn Vow before they could escape the Artus gravity well to make the necessary hyperspace jumps.

The Imperial SSD, with the Galan's Pride still hot on its heels, attempted to intercept the Jack Black, but instead drew the wrath of the three MC90a cruisers guarding her. For a brief moment or two, the five Allince warships forgot their other opponents, and concentrated all of their furious firepower on the massive vessel, stripping its shields and rendering its vital systems inoperable. In its haste to draw Rebel blood, the Super Star Destroyer was itself blasted into oblivian. But this had not come without loss...the Jack Black had taken too much fire, and was herself damaged to the brink of destruction. The three MC90a cruisers, venerable old veterans of many other conflicts, also took heavy damage, with their shields near depletion, and with several major hits on their hulls.

The other two Mediator-class vessels, along with the Farseer, were stil engaging their Imperial-II opponents. In yet another dazzling display of light and molten metal, another of the star destroyers, the Sloth, imploded from her stern, and was soon cracked open against the withering Rebel firepower. The captains of the cruisers did not pause for celebration, instead they threw their ever-increasing ratio of dominance against the rapidly dwindling Imperial fleet, engaging the other warships as they tried desperately to hold off the advancing Alliance forces.

Skipjack Wing, now down to an even thirty ships, and supported by the Rebel flagship, rushed back through space to support the massive Star Defender Galan's Pride, now under assault from three Imperial-IIs after having aided in the destruction of the Imperial SSD. The huge warship was holding its own, but with the oncoming of support, the Imperial ships were trapped between a rock and a hard place. One went up in flames about five minutes after Forn Dodonna's vessel engaged it, caught around the midsection by a massed volley of concussiom missiles fired from the Solemn Vow, and a torrent of turbolaser fire from the Star Defender. As Forn looked on, she cracked a small smile unseen by anyone; but even as she indulged herself in this luxury, her heart went out to the Imperials who were dying. If this war could only have been settled peacefully...

Elsewhere in space, the superior, hands-on training of the Rebel Alliance starfighter forces was proving its worth in many furious and pitched dogfights throughout the space above Artus. The many E-wings, A-wings, and X-wings were rolling up the opposition, engaging and wiping out entire squadrons of TIE Fighters, Interceptors, and Defenders. The darkness of space was filled with miniature starbursts, each one signifying the death of an Imperial or Alliance snubfighter and its pilot, but by far, it was the Empire that was taking the brunt of the losses in this contest. The Imperial X- and A-wings, who had foolishly attempted to infiltrate the Alliance formations, were dealt with and slaughtered en masse.

As they became free of their Imperial opponents, many of the surviving Alliance starfighter squadrons regrouped to offer support to the Alliance ships Nebula and Jack Black as they attempted to hold off the Imperials long enough to repair and retreat. But the balance of the battle had been tipped. It was only a matter of time before the Imperial fleet was wiped out completely.

Rebels: 6 Imperials: 0

"Take control for a second, Puffs, I've gotta check on our cargo." The smell of the stormtroopers' vomit was starting to give Renn a headache. He didn't want to know what Puffi Maa had done.

Nope, the stormtroopers were all fast asleep, due to the massive g-forces they experienced due to Puff's autopilot program. They would unconscious for at least a few more minutes. And when they did wake up, they would find themselves completely disarmed, with no way to take control of the ship, as the cockpit was sealed off. Renn was being very careful with the explosives on his ship, making sure that sabotage was impossible.

Not that sabotage was his main concern. It was time to score some serious damage on the Imperial fleet. He joined Shipjack wing on its assault on one of the Imp SD's, giving it cover against the starfighter squadrons.

Yet another Imp fell prey to his guns.

"Hey, look at that, Puffs. Instant ace." The droid hummed off-key, clearly satisfied by the havoc the Warwitch was wreaking.

Sensors read that the SD's bow shields were down, and it was quickly being melted to slag by a turbolaser barrage. His stomach jumping into his throat, Renn dove sharply into the return barrage, somehow managing to avoid the fire. The Warwitch raced across the hull, blasting apart sensors and turbolaser batteries. But Renn had a better target in mind--the bridge. He didn't dare drop any closer to the Star Destroyer's hull; he would probably scrape the armor off his belly.

"Puffs--"

"--I know" Puffi Maa quickly found a firing solution for the concussion missiles. With deliberate relish, the droid squeezed the firing controls.

Two concussion missiles roared from the Warwitch homing in on the Star Destroyer's bridge. Renn could have sworn he saw an officer standing on the bridge staring at the missiles in horror, aware of the bringer of his oblivion.

The missiles punctured the transparisteel canopy like a boot stomping down on an insect. Shards of shattered transparisteel blazed through the bridge, killing everyone that wasn't in the command pit. And the others would experience the disasterous side effects of breathing hard vacuum. It was hard to say who was more unlucky. And oh, yes, the missiles exploded inside the ship, ripping a jagged hole through the command superstructure, killing countless crewmen in a firey blaze.

"You know, Puffs, I'd say we'd better get out of here, before the Imps figure out what happened."

Renn's stomach seemed to drop down into his bowels as he climbed sharply, the clatter of a dozen-odd unconscious stormtroopers being thrown about accompanying the maneuver. He returned to the dogfight, turrets blazing at anyone who was unfortunate enough to be targeted by the freighter.

The last two ships of the Imperal Fleet watch as the flagship of the Empire explodes along with all her crew, including Evan Kerry. The newl;y made Emperor of the Empire dies just as his reign begins. But he would be back. He wold try and salvage what remains of the Empire.

The stormtroopers down on the planet all escape into underground tunnels and then detonate the entrances, fortifying themselves inside. They would eventually dye of lack of oxygen.

the two remaining Imperial ships try to run from the Rebellion. they manage to escape into hyperspace to fight another day.

Renn breathed a soft exhale of relief. He had come from expecting death to... well... fighting triumphantly in a hugely decisive Rebel victory. And with the Imperial retreat, the comm jamming lifted.

He hailed the traffic control for the Solemn Vow.

"Howdy, Solemn Vow. I'm taking my ship in to land. I request that you have a squad of Marines ready to board the Warwitch. I've got a souvenir for the Vice-Admiral, fresh from Artus."

As Renn took the Warwitch into a hangar, he saw a squad of Marines lining the far bulkhead, ready to move in as soon as Renn dropped the boarding ramp. Within a minute, the Marines bound the dozen stormtroopers that had been rendered unconscious by Puffi Maa's autopilot. When the stormies started stirring, they got a very rude awakening, and were marched off to a nearby brig.

Renn resisted breathing in through his nose. The smells of blaster ionization, electronics fires, and stormtrooper vomit permeated every square centimeter of his ship. And I've got a real mother of a mess to clean up. It was no surprise to him that Puffs had already disappeared, probably with the excuse of "having to recharge."

As Forn observed the battle's endgame in the space above Artus, one of the Operations officers spoke up, her voice excited, yet professional.

"Admiral, one more Imperial ship has been destroyed; the remains of the fleet are fleeing! The day is ours!"

"Very good, Commander," Forn sighed in relief. "Have all ships regroup around what's left of the main Imperial base. Prepare the Marines for ground assault, and get the starfighters back to their ships, but have the Skipjacks run close air support, we'll go in the morning. Get damage control parties active on all vessels, I want a full assessment of kills and losses from the Starfleet by 0900 hours tomorrow morning. Number One, you have the bridge."

The Vice-Admiral turned about, leaving the command bridge behind as she gathered her composure now that the battle was over. It was an overwhelming victory for the Rebel Alliance; eight Imperial ships-of-the-line, plus the flagship and the Imperial Admiral, had been eliminated. The escape of the two heavily-damaged Imperial-IIs did not bother her in the slightest, she was thankful for the results as they were. She sent a comm out to Renn Hamis aboard the Warwatch, and retired to her quarters to wait for his arrival, exchanging her uniform for a comfortable blouse and slacks, with her old leather bomber jacket over that.

--private, encrypted comm--

I'm glad you were able to get away, Mr. Hamis, and your performance in the battle was admirable. Please report to the Solemn Vow, I'd like to debrief you in person.

Forn

--end comm--

Renn sighed... no rest for the weary, indeed. I swear, you'd think that stormtroopers would be less prone to motion sickness. Ugh... I can't believe this mess... Blaster burns and shrapnel from destroyed droids littered every possible bit of the Warwitch. And then came the stormtroopers' vomit... unbelievable.

Renn looked up from his mopping to hear the comm board beeping.

Personal debriefing... He sniffed. Oy... I can't believe how I smell. It's going to take hours to get that out. He punched up a request to maintenance that they allocate a couple of droids to clean up the Warwitch. Only droids wouldn't mind the smell, and Renn had no desire to make some poor crewman suffer. He decided to leave his armor in the ship; he could clean it up later.

After he noticed a couple of Rebels grimace and give him a wide berth in the corridors, he finally took the hint, and headed for the showers. He came out, smelling considerably better. He was tired, but he was alive, still pumped full of adrenaline, and downright exhilarated.

He knocked loudly on Vice-Admiral Dodonna's door.

The door to her quarters hissed open as Renn Hamis knocked, and Forn had a bit of difficulty in resisting the temptation to literally drag the man inside. She had almost lost her adjutant, who was fast becoming something like a friend. As Renn entered, Forn could detect the faint smell of stomach contents hovering about him, but the odour was unobtrusive enough to brush aside without mentioning.

"Mr, Hamis, I am pleased to see that you are well," she began, her voice professional. "This was a spectacular victory for the Rebel Alliance, and it would not have been possible without your heroic actions." She paused then, and drew a small velvet-covered box from her coat pocket. When she spoke again, her voice was mild and warm. "I want you to have this -- you have earned it fully today, I feel. Admiral Sunrider will have to give the final approval, but I think she will respect my judgement in this regard. I am proud to present to you the Hero's Cross, for valour and ingenuity in the heat of battle."

She leaned in close to the man before her, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You have my personal thanks as well. Now, tell me everything you saw, and what you think we can learn from this battle. It is my philosophy that even in victory, lessons can be learned; it is never wise to become overconfident in one's abilities. Come and sit, my friend, I value your input." Forn pulled the chair out from the small desk in her quarters, while she sat down on the bed, taking off her bomber jacket as she did so.

"Ingenuity..." Renn smiled as he opened the box. "Suicidal better describes what I pulled. Judging from the evidence I saw on my ship, Puffs pulled off something insane as well. I owe him my life--he's going to be insufferable.

"The stormtroopers on Artus definitely weren't the best the Empire had to offer. No, they were on a planet that wasn't expected to be attacked, and they knew it. Their discipline was a bit shoddy, though desperate men always put up a good fight; the Marines are going to have their work cut out for them.

"The base was standard Imperial construction. Nothing new, though a lot of the turbolaser emplacements were positioned dangerously close to the mines. Nothing to be surprised by, considering Imp tactics.

"Things to learn... first thing off, I need to have better security for my ship, both on the computer and antipersonnel weaponry. The Imps came very close to downloading all my files. I don't know all the details, but if the stormies that were on my ship succeeded, they would have at least learned of our bases on Selvaris and Hypori."

Renn thought back on the fleet battle. "The sudden appearance of the Imperial fleet suggests that the Imps knew that you would be bringing the fleet in, regardless of whether I completed my mission. It's a wild guess, but I think someone new might be command of the Imperial Navy. The tactics they followed weren't consistent with what little I saw at Sanity's End."

Renn suppressed a wince. This is not going to sound good. "They managed to catch me... because I was injected with Imperial nanites on Coruscant."

Forn sat quietly as Renn made his report. She was impressed with his modesty, but she also knew that what had happened was due in large part to his own intuition and abilities. He still deserved that medal, and his opinions of the battle's results and the forces they had come up against were very close to her own. And she was not surprised to hear about the nanites that had been placed into her adjutant, but Forn still wondered how he could have forgotten a thing like that. But it mattered little, now...when she spoke again, her voice was warm, yet still professional.

"Don't worry, Renn, I'm sure the techs back at Hypori can figure out a way to rid you of these nanites, and your ties will be severed completely. Also, we can upgrade your ship to whatever standard you think you need right here; the Solemn Vow has a full compliment of spare parts and technical personnel to aid you in refitting the Warwatch.

"And I agree with your assessment of the Empire's tactics. They acted strangely today; their attacks were oddly uncoordinated and confused, as though someone managed to get themselves over-promoted and this was their first time out at the head of a fleet. It never even occurred to them that the rest of our forces were waiting behind the next star, but I'll grant that the new admiral wasn't completely stupid. Something seems to have happened to my old nemesis, Admiral Phillep...I'll have to inform Admiral Sunrider of this, she'll know what to do. Do you think--"

There was a knock on the door, then. "Enter," Forn said, her voice lout enough to be heard on the other side. The door hissed open, and the Solemn Vow's first officer strode into the Vice-Admiral's quarters, as Forn rose to meet the dark-haired male human.

"I have the Fleet damage and loss report here, Admiral, as well as the updated TO&E, and a count of Imperial losses. I'll be on the bridge if you need me."

"Thank you, Captain, you're dismissed." The man handed Forn two datasheets, and the two officers exchanged parting salutes. Sitting back down, she began to peruse the report, rattling off important numbers so Renn could get the gist of the data as well.

Jack Black: shields: 4%, hull: 53%, starfighters remaining: 77%, crew casualties: 21%

Nebula: shields: 13%, hull: 62% starfighters remaining: 68%, crew casualties: 19%

Freedom's Reprieve: shields: 47%, hull: 88%, starfighters remaining: 80%, crew casualties: 12%

Sullustan Arsenal: shields: 74%, hull: 94%, starfighters remaining: 87%, crew casualties: 2%

Solemn Vow: shields: 56%, hull: 89%, starfighters remaining: 45%, crew casualties: 4%

Farseer: shields: 41%, hull: 83%, starfighters remaining: 55%, crew casualties: 6%

Galan's Pride: shields: 78%, hull: 98%, starfighters remaining: 92%, crew casualties: 1%

Mon Mothma: shields: 38%, hull: 79%, starfighters remaining: 81%, crew casualties: 6%

Borleias Sunset: shields: 65%, hull: 74%, starfighters remaining: 53%, crew casualties: 9%

Redemption: shields: 33%, hull: 72%, starfighters remaining: 89%, crew casualties: 11%

Skipjack Wing: seven starfighters lost, three badly damaged

The ships of the fleet were all under repair even as she was reading this, Forn knew, so these figures represented the fleet's status as the last Imperial resistance was squashed from the skies. Compared to the tremendous beating the Empire received this day, the Alliance casualty rate was nothing short of miraculous.

Imperial losses:

Five Imperial-II class star destroyers lost

Two Republic-class star destroyers lost

One Super-class star destroyer lost

One Golan II defence station destroyed

Two Imperial-IIs heavily damaged, but escaped

Estimated 87.834% of all Imperial starfighter forces destroyed

"Well, Mr. Hamis, it looks like the ground assault should be commencing in the morning, but I don't see any need for you to join them. Get some rest, we'll be moving the fleet out as soon as the planet is in our hands, and the locals have been seen to. Dismissed, and may the Force be with you, my friend." Forn Dodonna then rose once again from her bed, and ushered her adjutant from the room. Once he was gone, Forn removed her outfit and laid back upon her bed, drifting quickly off to sleep. It had been a long day indeed, but it would be a day long remembered as one of the decisive battles of this new Galactic Civil War.

When Renn returned to his quarters, he found Puffs waiting for him.

"Surprise, surprise, look who jumped ship to avoid clean-up duty. I thought we were friends."

Puffs didn't even look up from the two blaster pistols he was cleaning on the floor, efficiently dismantling the weapons and scraping tiny bits of debris from each part. Finally satisfied with how he had cleaned all the parts of one of his blasters, he began piecing it together, and spoke, keeping his single eye on his work.

"We're partners, not just friends. Either way, I noticed you left the job to a team of maintenance droids." Renn perked up at the droid's statement.

"You consider me a friend? I'm flattered."

Puffi Maa cursed in smuggler's argot. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice my poor choice of words."

"It's all right. I won't let anyone know that you've developed an emotional attachment to an organic."

Puffi Maa seethed, and snapped the final part of one of his blasters into place, aiming it at Renn. He didn't even flinch.

"Nice try, Puffs. It's not loaded." Renn paused, then carefully placed the box containing his Hero's Cross on the room's small table. The droid's anger evaporated in the wake of his curiousity.

"What's that?" Puffs abandoned his other blaster to try to get a better look, clambering up on top of the table to see.

"It's a Hero's Cross. It's rewarded for ingenious tactics and bravery." Renn ceremoniously opened the box to look at the medal again before he slept.

"Droids never get the attention they deserve." Puffs muttered, only slightly annoyed.

"True." Renn had to admit that much. "You want it?"

"No; it's not worth anything." Typical Puffs--mercenary, to the point, and completely unsentimental.

"I thought that it was the thought that counts." Puffi Maa dropped back down to the floor, apparently having had enough of looking at the medal.

Despite being a droid, Puffs managed to snort scornfully. "If mere thoughts meant anything, the galaxy would have imploded by now."

The banter was starting to get on Renn's nerves. "Puffs, I'm tired, it's been a long and strange day, and quite frankly, I'm not in the mood for banter. Good night."

Puffs snapped his other blaster back together. "Fine, I'm done." The droid was in an oddly introspective mood; perhaps a walk around the Solemn Vow's infinitely long corridors would satisfy his desire to think. Despite his snort, Renn's sudden growth of idealism fascinated and almost disturbed him. He appeared truly content with his station in the Rebellion, despite his consistent history of only being loyal to the highest bidder.

Puffs emitted a robotic sigh as he scuttled about aimlessly. Maybe this would all make sense to his mechanical brain in the "morning".

As the Vice-Admiral slept on after the events of the day had played themselves out, the repair crews aboard the various warships of the Alliance fleet were busy restoring systems and repairing damaged structures as best they could while here at Artus. Once the fleet moved on, they would be able to reprovision and acquire replacement crews, pilots, and starfighters, but before that could happen, the Marines would have to make their assault. The planetary defenses had been shut down by now; in the wake of the Imperial defeat and subsequent retreat, the least damaged of the Alliance vessels had finished the planetary bombardment. It was a tedious task, as many of the planetary turbolasers and ion cannons had been placed in precarious positions, and they had to be cleared without causing any of the extensive cortosis mines to collapse. But since interference from any external threat had been nulled, the ships were free to take the appropriate precautions.

By the next morning, the Marines aboard the many gathered ships would be ready to go. A full division of mechanized troops was ready to conduct the first assault wave; Skipjack Wing would conduct sweeping operations to keep the heads of any remaining ground troops down while their assault shuttles touched down, in addition to putting any automatic defenses offline. The Vice-Admiral was a firm proponent of what she called "close air support", which was basically starfighters flying low in a planetary atmosphere, strafing and bombarding enemy positions, clearing out paths of advancement for the Marines on the ground.

When Forn awoke at around 0800 hours the next morning, she took the luxury of a good, long dip the 'fresher before donning her freshly-laundered uniform. She was willing herself to relax; her repose from the previous night was filled with the vivid after-images of a battle hard-fought. Once her head was clear, she resumed her station aboard the Solemn Vow, now at near-optimal combat efficiancy after the intense efforts of the crew and damage-control parties. When she gave her orders, Forn's voice was subtle, yet crisp.

"Ops, send the word. The Marines are go for ground assault."

"As ordered, Admiral..."

From hanger decks of each of the ten warships in the gathered Alliance armada, waves of heavily-armed and armored planetary assault shuttles emerged. The remaining Skipjacks, with several squadrons of E-wings in support, went into the Artus atmosphere ahead of them, to fulfill their duties as close-support craft.

"Admiral Dodonna," the lead Skipjack reported, "we're not getting any readings on surface life forms, it is possible that the Imperial troops have taken refuge underground..."

"Acknowledged, Skipjack One," Forn replied, her voice steady. "General Chamberlin, you may commence your landing."

"Acknowledged, Admiral," the Marine officer replied. "We are commencing the landing cycle."

As the assault shuttles descended through the atmosphere to land outside of the main Imperial surface base, the Skipjacks and E-wings were encountering no resistance. This somewhat surprised Forn; it was not normal Imperial doctrine to simply allow an invading enemy force to land and occupy a world. But then, she remembered what Commander Hamis had said, and it made sense.

"General, keep the rest of your troops in space for now, but send in the First Battalion. I'm not liking what I'm seeing. Major Jenson, keep your Skipjacks on high alert, destroy anything that makes a move on the Marines as they land..."

"As ordered, Admiral..."

With the whine of repulsorlift engines flaring high as they touched down, three assault shuttles make the final descent to the surface of Artus, as their fellowe continued to fly in a holding pattern several miles up above. Hewever, the Marines loaded within were moving out before the ships had even set properly onto the ground; the soldiers jumped quickly from the lowered loading ramps, fanning out and sprinting forth in an effort to find good cover before anything can take the transports by surprise.

"I don't get it," one corporal said to his sargeant as the two noncoms made their way speedily through the base perimeter, assault blasters ready and primed. "I would expect to see some Stormtroopers, at least..."

"Keep sharp, kid, they're out there, somewhere," the grizzled old vet replied. He then turned to give orders to the rest of the platoon. "First squad, move in! Second squad, establish a base of fire, here, here, and here! Third squad, you're with me! Let's move, people!"

As rapidly as their expert training permitted, the twelve men of Second squad had three E-Web cannons, with fireteams in support set up, while the other two squads of the spearheading platoon entered the front doors of the Imperial base, after liberal use of some detcord and specialized explosives. The assault on the mining world of Artus had begun...

"Renn, should I tell the Vice-Admiral that you died in your sleep?"

Definitely not a dream.

Renn's eyes snapped open, his vision filled with red. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that Puffs was standing right above him, perched on his bed.

"Get off," he said, swiping ineffectually at the droid, who was already jumping clear of the bed. He groaned excessively as he got up, the aches of the battle he fought in yesterday making themselves known.

"I'm awake." He blinked a few times. "Um... what time is it?"

"Almost 0915. The invasion of Artus is already underway."

That woke Renn up. "Sithspit! Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you look like an angel when you're asleep." Puffs quipped. "No, it was enlightened self-interest. I figured that if you got some extra sleep, the odds of you getting yourself killed would be considerably less. And who would be left to pilot the Warwitch? I only have 5 arms." With that, the droid ran through the door, probably heading for the bridge.

"I'll be sure to thank you... in a couple of hours." Renn shot back, rushing through the refresher, so he at least wouldn't be able to use his breath as a weapon. Not the most presentable I've been, he thought, looking at his reflection in the mirror. But in a battle, who notices if you've dressed up for the occasion? He had to admit, though, he did appreciate the extra 30 minutes of sleep that Puffs allowed him to have. He had a hard time falling asleep, with dreams of battle and death. That always happened to him after he had been through an intense experience.

He even managed to have a light breakfast, which he didn't expect, considering that a battle was taking place on the planet.

He also ran to his ship to make sure that maintenance had cleaned up the terrible mess inside. Indeed, maintenance had performed a sterling job, thoroughly cleaning up all the astromech debris and more disgusting trash. They even left him a little pine tree air freshener inside, probably as a inside joke.

When Renn finally reached the bridge, Puffs was waiting for him.

"You took your sweet time," the droid muttered.