Bakura

[Tycho Kosk]

With everyone aboard, Tycho knew it would be a good time to launch the mission. There was no time like the present, and that present was constantly changing, never to be regained. Time spent doing nothing was time wasted--unless that time was spent sleeping, which was essential to life.

 

"Alright, guys," he said, having given up the military formality on behalf of a more personal approach. "This is going to be a hit-and-fade. I doubt the Alliance would have failed to create any capital ships in the time since Coruscant, so they may have cruisers there. We're just going to do a little damage, show Geki's face, and get out of there."

 

The Corellian then turned to his Captain. "Captain, let's head out to the checkpoint closest to Mon Calamari to make our final preparations," he said.

 

The Captain complied, and soon the cruiser entered hyperspace.

 

OOC: I have an opinion question for you two. Onderin, the Admiral of the Alliance, is my alias, as you may know. I'll need to either have one of you post this end of the battle, or I can get Kirana to post the defense of the shipyards. What do you think? PM me.

[Forn Dodonna]

((OOC: As far as I've been able to tell, only the MC90a cruiser Rejuvinator with her starfighters, the Skipjacks, andthe Scimitars were taken out with Mr. Kosk, Mr. Mammon, and Mr. Hamis, leaving the following liquid assets behind: two KDY Nebulon-B escort frigates (+ fighters), the Golan defense platforms (which are actually manned), the minefield, and one wing of ground-based starfighters (six squadrons), of mixed X, A, B, K, and E-wings. Troop strength remains unchanged.

 

Also...consider this my formal apology.))

 

Time-space rifts can be funny things, as anyone who has studied history or physics will tell you...

 

Forn Dodonna was not a happy camper, oh not at all. It had seemed like only five minutes ago that she had powered up her shuttle after leaving the Senate chambers on Coruscant, and taken off into the fiery dynamo of the starry night. Just when Forn had thought she could relax after entering hyperspace, the featureless purple mottling outside her vewports quickly became a kaleidoscope of colours, patterns, and flaring bursts of energy. It was as though someone was playing a fast-forwarded holorecording of the history of the galaxy before her very eyes...and if it weren't for her years of hard-won experience, she would have panicked where she sat, overtaken by the unexpectedness of it all. But instead, she stared soberly through the window, paying no heed to the haywired instruments.

 

The droid in the navigator/gunner's seat seemed also to notice the futility of pointing out the obvious wrongness of what was going on. Normally a machine of few verbal articulations anyway, the metallic assassin/bodyguard maintained a stony silence as the heavily-armed craft shot ever onward -- but onward to what? Neither occupant was quite sure what to make of this situation. Being the pragmatist that she was, however, Forn had some idea of what to do next.

 

"HD-57, continue monitoring the situation. Wake me when anything further happens."

 

"Compliance," the droid muttered in its usual grinding monotone. And with that, Forn turned on the sleep-setter she had installed long ago, and reclined her chair to settle in for a long, refreshing nap.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Several hours later, by the chronometer, the droid turned off the sleep-setter, and Forn awoke with a start.

 

"Mistress Dodonna, the visual phenomenon is dissipating. Hyperdrive engines are beginning automatic shutdown sequences. Shall I power up the sublight engines?"

 

With a resigned sigh, Forn nodded to her bodyguard; the droid was not programmed for piloting -- at least, not yet. A quick sweep of the viewports confirmed HD-57's description of the situation, but Forn busied herself with readying the ion drives and repulsorlifts, which seemed to have shut down completely without any discernible explanation or cause. "Bringing her out of hyperspace," she said as the flashing kaleidoscope vanished entirely, leaving the usual hallmarks of faster-then-light travel in its wake, which were soon replaced with starlines.

 

Forn's jaw dropped as the Borleias Sunset emerged into realspace, and the wast expanse of stars before her became visible, which were arranged in an utterly unrecognisable pattern. "Emperor's black bones! Where the hell are we?"

 

"Scanning..." the droid droned. "Location found: we are approximately seventeen parsecs beyond the Ssi-ruuvi frontier, facing Coreward via Endor and Bakura." The droid paused for a moment, its photoreceptors doing a remarkable imitation of a human double-take. "Additionally, star charts and sensor logs indicate that ship's chronometers are off by approximately six point four three months galactic standard time..."

 

Forn didn't need the droid's attempt at an explanation to figure out what they had just gone through -- a rift in the time-space continuum. During her long years of military service, she had heard of the possibilities of such phenomenon, but never any records of such events actually occurring. Somehow, she and her droid had jumped ahead some six and a half months into the future, and as far as Forn could tell, she had not aged a day. "A lot can happen in seven months," she muttered darkly to herself.

 

"HD-57," she began in an even voice. "Run a final check for tracking devices -- both external and internal, then set a quick course back to Bakura." Her metallic companion razzed an acknowledgement, then set about on his assigned task. It took only ten minutes to confirm the co-ordinates and disable any trackers, though it seemed unlikely that anyone would have continued to monitor such devices after so long. Forn, however, was taking no chances.

 

Three hours later, the Borleias Sunset winked into existence above the far side of Bakura from Salis D'aar city, and began a low-powered, stealthy descent into the lower atmosphere, transmitting covert, low-intensity, and coded identifying signals. Though the base seemed to be entirely intact from what she and her instruments could see, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of spaceborne and groundside activity where there should have been before. "I hope we haven't been compromised," Forn said to herself as she prayed for a reply -- which suddenly came, accompanied by a burst of static over the secure comm channel.

 

"Tranquillity Base control, we have you on visual," came the disciplined female voice of a lieutenant Forn remembered had been one of her aides prior to leaving the Galactic Federation's service. But the professionalism suddenly broke, as... "and it is a pleasure to see you again, Admiral." Forn didn't know if the officer's use of her former military title was intentional or not.

 

"We thought something terrible had happened," the lieutenant continued. "Please land and we can brief you in person..."

 

"Acknowledged," Forn replied, then began to manoeuvre toward a hidden side-hanger as the armoured entrance slid out of the way to accommodate the incoming Blastboat. With a whine of repulsorlift engines, the craft touched down gently onto the ferrocrete floor, and the egress hatch began to open with the faint hissing of compressed gasses. On tenterhooks, but maintaining her professional facade, Forn and her droid exited the starship. Lieutenant Hennessey was already making her way toward the landing area, clad in civilian attire and bearing a major's rank badge on her belt buckle.

 

"Tell me what I've missed," Forn said to the woman, but this time her voice was much more gentle. She knew that she had a lot of catching up to do, and she was determined to get back into business. Major Hennessey, however, looked grim, but led the way in a determined silence. After a good deal of walking, they arrived at the turbolift to the secure headquarters at the lowest level, took it down, and went into the conference room, sealing it after themselves. Without preamble, the major spoke. Forn kept her silence.

 

"We only have bits and pieces of information, Admiral, but what we do know is not good. Tycho, Vash, and Commander Hamis went out with the fleet to Mon Calamari, we thought it was to make the Rebels think that SEED was having another go at them. Holonet transmissions intercepted by the Bothans and secured by us after the fact, along with a few contacts in the Republic, have provided us with a general picture of what happened next. The Rejuvinator arrived at Mon Calamari, but the Republic forces there didn't go for the cover story. A Jedi representative was sent to negotiate a peaceful surrender, but something went wrong, and a short but ferocious battle erupted; we still don't know the details. In the end, the Rejuvinator was reacquired by the Republic, while Kosk and Commander Hamis were captured. Losses to our fighters were high..." She paused for a moment, as though collecting herself. Her next sentance was filled with a hearty voice that betrayed the greif she felt at its pronouncement.

 

"Admiral, the Skipjacks...they were wiped out...to a man..."

 

Forn blanched, but recovered herself quickly. "I'm sorry, Wenna," she said somberly. Her husband had been the gunner for Skipjack Seven. "Tell me, what do we have still here..."

 

The younger officer handed Forn a datapad that showed what remained -- which was most of the ordinance that they had originally procured. Her force of Marines, left out of that last disasterous mission, were fully intact.

 

"I was a fool to trust Kosk and Mammon," Forn blurted out at last, having collected her thoughts while browsing the padd. "Never again will I trust freelancers like them. Draft a communique to the Republic chief of state, detailing -- " Forn's voice trailed off.

 

"Detailing what?" Hennessey asked tentetively.

 

"Have the techs run a diagnostic on the Borleias Sunset," she ordered. "I want proof that what happened to me did in fact happen. I have reason to believe that, somehow, I was pulled into a space-time rift, which is why I've been gone for so long. I'm sorry that I can offer no better explanation, but I'm no scientist." Forn paused. "When they've found out all they can, send the details along with an explanation that I had nothing to do with that plan. I don't know if he or she will go for it, but we have to try."

 

"As ordered, Admiral," the major replied with a heavy sigh. The two exchanged salutes, then Forn went back to her personal quarters, where she would remain with her thoughts until a reply had been sent.

[Tarrian Skywalker]

Sorry Forn, your user name should have been removed long ago from the RP forum... you have been gone just under 7 months, and will need to reapply to the RP and lose rank and all that goes with coming back after an extended absense... Not to mention that you need to join a faction as you are not in lead of any faction...

 

Thems the rules...

[Jordan]

Nadroj Ehtylb blasted out of hyperspace over Bakura. He had been meditating for the past 4 months and thought about what to do. His master abandoning made him feel sick to the Jedi. Nadroj, still being only 14 years old, he held grudges very well. He vowed to destroy the Jedi and all that they stood for, he would become”¦. A SITH.

[Bad karma]

Trowa's ship dropped out of hyperspace on one of his random jumps to keep any would be pursuers off of his trail. Two moons and a planet appeared in his multiply view screens. It was a calm, peaceful world of Bakura. He had never personally been here but had heard a few stories of the place. It had a terrain not much unlike Endors.

 

It would be an interesting test site. Trowa set his ship so that it would orbit the planet in a safe fashion before rising up out of his seat and heading towards his cargo hold. It was the first real look he got of his newest creation”¦his newest toy. Taking his time he removed the bungee cords holding the tarp over the large mobile suit. Once he got all of them off, he pulled the tarp away”¦revealing the beautiful machine of death that was The Uncrowned King.

 

Sub-consciously Trowa licked his lips, with thoughts of the suffering this mech could inflict upon the lives of countless innocents. But of course, no one was ever truly innocent. Everyone was here in this universe only to experience suffering and Trowa was placed her to deliver said emotional state of mind.

 

He was now like the pizza boy for stoners; he always delivered and would take the pleasure of it all as ample tip. The cold hiss as the gas was released from the entry way opening was all that could be heard in his ship, in the void of space. Slipping on a slim space suit, Trowa hopped down into the mobile suit.

 

”œIt is time to harvest some not yet fully corrupt lives”¦ souls .”

[Terra]

((Graphic post, be aware! This is part of an ongoing storyline between Corsec and myself.))

 

Bakura... The location of the first alliance between the Rebel Alliance, and The Empire. A perfect location to strike... To show that such an alliance is built upon shaky ground. This Galactic Alliance must, and will fall. There is a greater threat upon the horizon, one that must not succeed. Together, the GA can never destroy it. We were stronger separate from one another... Far worse than the Ssi-Ruu...

 

The Jai'galaar exited hyperspace above the planet of Bakura, far from sensor range, within the system’s far reaches. What she had to do took stealth, and intense concentration, for which she would use a substance, which she had in plenty of supply from her criminal days. Taking off her Buy’ce, Blackwraith laid it on her lap, and cradled it for but a moment. She had no wish to become a monster, or what she was ordered to become by those beyond the void. None could know.

 

With trembling hands, she withdrew a small, clear vial, filled with what appeared to be black sand, striped with crystals of bright blue. Pouring some onto her palm, she ingested it carefully, wincing at the harsh flavour. Spice, especially Draksall Blue, had a bitter taste to her, but for the time, it was needed. Burning fire consumed her nerve-endings, and her body went into convulsions, blood slowly dripping from her eyes, like crimson tears. The world plunged into darkness for but a moment, before Blackwraith awoke with a roar of rage. All she could see was the threat, and how she needed to fix it. The voices would assist her.’

 

End them... Let us help you end them...

 

Sweat poured from every pore as Blackwraith slipped her Buy’ce back onto her head, no longer herself. Keying the ship into stealthed acceleration, she began preparations for decent into the planet’s unpopulated polar region, where her scans showed no activity, or witnesses to observe her. The planet was rich in mineral wealth, and thus, its senators often were funded via the offplanet mining companies. The one she had identified as a threat was Galactic Senator, Ned Hennedy who was funded by none other than Offworld Mining Corporation.

 

His death is necessary...

 

Activating her datapad, she connected briefly to the holonet, using a variety of proxy servers and buoys, located in the Tingal Arm, around Thessia, which then spread the signal all over the outer regions, like an untraceable web of information. Selecting Hennedy’s homepage, she read up on the human, and his current political woes. Even with all his funding from Offworld, he could not squash the allegations of political abuse of power. According to the GA’s Newscorp Online, he had brokered a deal for Offworld, using Bakura’s tax money, along with GA funds. Another article outlined how he was having an affair with a Zeltron mistress, by the name of Kayla. The man was sinking.

 

He will turn to THEM for help...

 

She shook her head slowly, and flipped to Hennedy’s Fwitter page, and began to read his own personal thoughts. But five minutes before, he had posted a picture of him with his junker speeder, along with an advanced toolkit, with the words, “Time to do some repairs!” Locating his home address, she deactivated her datapad and removed its battery pack, along with its datacore. Untraceable. Withdrawing her speederbike from the cargo-hold of The Jai'galaar, she geared it up, and set off for the man’s home, with her insane smile hidden by her Buy’ce.

 

------------

 

The Senator lived in a wealthy neighbourhood, with massive mansions, divided by large groves of close-knit trees and brush, for privacy’s sake. Isolation was a killer’s greatest friend. Parking her speederbike in the dense brush right outside the man’s overlarge garage, she stepped out, and began to change her clothing. Stripping out of her beskar’gam, she slipped into clothing typical of a teenage girl of her age, skinny-jeans, and a T-shirt of bright blue. She let her hair flow back casually, and tied on a pair of converses. Temptation for illegal fruits, often set prey off their guard. Cracking her neck, she jogged up the Senator’s driveway, preparing to do her part.

 

As Blackwraith made her way up the marble inlaid driveway, she could not help but take notice of the utter lack of security. She snorted in disgust, and stepped into the garage, pausing for a moment to admire the immense collection of fine speeders and antique groundcrawlers. She could hear grunting, and her eyes were drawn to an obese man, leaning over a groundcrawler’s engine block. Senator Ned Hennedy, whose older brothers had held positions of immense power within The New Republic. One had been another Senator, and the other the Supreme Chancellor. Both had died from assassination, as would this one. With a shudder, she stepped forward, and deliberately knocked into a strewn toolbox, causing him to turn his head.

 

In his piggish eyes, she could see an immediate lust, to which she could barely contain the urge to vomit. He smiled boorishly and leaned against the groundcrawler, wiping grease from his hands. When he spoke, his voice sounded sly, as if he had done this a hundred times before.

 

“Well... Hello, missy. What brings you up this way?”

 

Blackwraith replied slowly, trying to contain her utter disgust, and wish to slay him where he stood, thinking only of his own wishes, with no thought for what he was planning to do. To contact them...

 

“I, well... I heard that this was Senator Ned Hennedy’s home... Sir... I’ve always been a big fan.”

 

The senator laughed heartily, and evilly, and turned to the doorway, motioning for her to follow him.

 

“Well, let us get a drink, and we can discuss your thoughts on me. First though, let me get dressed more properly!”

 

Blackwraith followed dutifully, trying to not retch as he grabbed her hand, with his own pudgy one and pulled her inside. From his grip, she could tell he had never done a day of good, honest work. His living-room was very opulent, showing his wealth and power. She recognized several famous works of art, several of which had been stolen in recent decades and sold on the black market at great cost. She sat down on one of the couches, and began to plot the man’s death. With her ice-blue eyes, she scanned the room for any weapons she could use, but found none. An opportunity would present itself. From her sidebag, she pulled a small spray-can, which she used on herself, to bind any hairs to her body, so that they would not fall and leave DNA for tracing.

 

Within a few minutes, the Senator returned, bearing a large bottle of Vodka, and another of Brandy. Blackwraith raised an eyebrow as he began to pour and mix them drinks. The Senator certainly did not care to take his time with his catch. Little did he know that he was not the hunter, but the hunted. She took the glass handed to her, and sipped it casually, swallowing the contents, but ensuring that her implants processed out the alcohol and the Rohypnol. This man deserved death, and soon.

 

“Echani, eh? I hear you people are flexible...”

 

Oh... God...

 

An hour passed by, and she acted the part of drunk, as he plied her with more alcohol and drugs. When his back was turned, she activated a preprogrammed comlink call from her comlink, which caused the Senator’s comlink to buzz. Answering it, he received a notice that a fundraising party was starting at Martin’s Vineyard, for the staff of his brother’s former campaign. Standing quickly, and woozily, the senator glanced over to her.

 

“So... Gurly. Woould you be up for a party? Letsh goo...”

 

“One moment... Shenatorr... I’ll... I’ll... Be right there.”

 

She quickly wiped down the area for prints and any DNA, and then set off after the senator. With hate, Blackwraith rolled her eyes and followed him, stumbling as if drunk, to the luxury speeder, where he was climbing into the driver’s seat. She clamoured clumsily into the passenger-seat, and slumped there, waiting for him to start the vehicle.

 

Drunk driving... Another reason to die.

 

The senator pulled the speeder out of the garage, at an unsafe speed, clipping the side of one of the groundcrawlers, and took to a skylane. Naturally, he miscalculated his ascent, and smashed into the top of a tree, sending the speeder spinning towards a bridge. The jolt of the landing caused Blackwraith to start to scramble to exit, but the speeder flipped once, and fell from the bridge, into the river below. Without a second thought, Senator Ned Hennedy evacuated the vehicle, without bothering to help her out or making sure she was all right.

 

Unbuckling herself, she slipped out the broken window, ensuring she had not left anything, at all behind, pausing just for a second to open a toolbox that lay beside her, and withdrew a clawhammer. With great hate, she swam through the water, following the senator. As he scrambled groggily to his feet upon the sandy shoreline, she leapt from the water and called out to him.

 

“Hey, asshat!”

 

He turned, startled, and caught the claw of the hammer full in the throat. The serrated edge, used to remove nails from wood, ripped through the skin and meat of his throat as if it were Bantha-butter, crushing his larynx, and severing both his carotid artery, and his jugular vein. Ripping the hammer free from his fatty flesh, she dashed in his skull with another powerful blow from the ball-point of the hammer, crushing in his brains, and causing an immediate haemorrhage within his brain-cavity. Letting the hammer lay embedded in his forehead, Blackwraith removed all prints from its handle, and set to work on the back of his neck, with a small needle, engraving a miniscule item into the base of his skull.

 

Scrambling up the embankment, she used a few rocks to erase her footprints, and walked stealthily back to the senator’s abode. She erased all traces of her arrival, changing back into her armour, before sweeping once more through the home for any security systems. Finishing up, she mounted her speederbike and set back off for her ship. She disposed of her comlink, which was prepaid, by dropping it down an active volcano. Slipping back into the cockpit of The Jai'galaar, she avoided the sensors that came with cities, and set out for yet another planet, to continue with her plan, making sure to program in some microjumps. Corsec would soon learn of what happened there, and start an investigation.

[Wookiee Jedi]

Polourn Cantina, Salis D'aar:

 

A quiet night during the main rush of patrons after 7 on a midweek night, people slowly started to pour into the cantina, drinking and getting drunk as they usually did on such a night. A young Twi'lek began his drinking in excessive amounts as fast as he could. All the while, he was becoming agitated by a Human male in about his thirties from the looks of him, sitting in the prime corner booth, refusing to let others sit with him. This was aggravated by the sheer fact that after an hour, he greeted a Wookiee and allowed for him to sit at the table. The Wookiee moved for the bartender for drinks and Twi'lek took advantage to go in and let this human have a piece of his mind.

 

"You humans all think you deserve the galaxy to be given to you, so you create your empires and legions to keep us others down. Why the hell should you get to own the best seat of the cantina and choose who sits with you and who doesn't? You want for me to sw-"

 

The Twi'lek never got the chance to finish, the Wookiee had returned and used one paw to pick him up and remove him from the table area gently, and then put the drinks down. But despite this, the Twi'Lek was too drunk, and went in to argue some more.

 

"And recruiting a Wookiee to be your bodyguard is just down rig-"

 

This time he was meet during his move towards the booth by what he felt like an iron bar swing at his chest. In reality, it was the Wookiee's forearm suddenly held out in the Twi'lek's path, printing him from moving forward. This time around though, the Wookiee grunted and growled his displeasure at him. Although the tension was directed elsewhere as the man who was sitting spoke.

 

"If you think the Wookiee is here because I hired him, then you know nothing of Wookiees. He's here out of his own free will to have a drink with a very old friend. Leave us be in peace, you can have your booth within the hour…"

 

The Wookiee lowered his forearm and stared for a moment at the Twi'lek. This only angered the drunken Twi'lek more, so his anger turned on the Wookiee.

 

"Ah, so you're just a dumb Wookiee. What's wrong, not in the mood to be back at your jungle home as the rest of your kind gets slaughtered? Your kind is weak, hence the reason they always pick on you. I bet you're all just waiting on the one famous Kirlocca to come to your aid and save your skins from being burned. Well he died and faded away like the rest of his kind. And you might as well be turned into a pelt, you filthy, disgusting, arrog-"

 

There was no warning, the Wookiee lifted his leg and kicked to Twi'lek 30 feet backwards. His body smacked the wall and fell. The Twi'lek could do nothing but lay in pain. The rest of the cantina looked on quietly as the Wookiee stared at them seeing if anyone else would provoke him. The tension in the room was tight, until the man stood up and told the patrons to go back to their drinks. Then both him and the Wookiee sat down.

 

"I'm sorry bud, I keep forgetting that there still is some racism this far away from the core. But regardless, I have a mission for you that comes with pay and it's own transport to protect your identity."

 

The man then slid a datacard over to the Wookiee. The Wookiee was tall, covered in now dark and light brown fur with grey patches all over. He was at one point solely light brown with hints of dark brown, but his age caught up to him in appearance. He was once called Kirlocca, the famous Jedi whom was a guardian of the galaxy. But through his exile, he abandoned his lightsaber, Jedi clothing, and all ties to them. He now calls himself Speturra. Thenin was the man now seated across from him. Carefully, the Wookiee spoke within his own language. Now without the services of his droid to help in translation, Thenin was left to comprehend everything on his own. Although for Thenin, it wasn't all that hard for him to do. Kirlocca had said yes he would do it as he looked over the information. The two then paid for their drinks and left the cantina for the star port, where Thenin had his newly acquired ship waiting for them. Upon arrival, Speturra frown and grunted and barked at Thenin, who quickly threw his arms up in defensive position.

 

"What? YT-2400's are reliable still, and don't draw attention. Besides, it's all I could afford for us. It'll have to do. Let us board and be on our way. During our flight, I can get you acquainted with Lucky Strike."

 

The two were boarded and off planet within ten minutes and well on their way to Coruscant….

[Tobias Vos]

Tommin opened his eyes- he knew the nav-computer would have alerted him whenever they were getting closer to the next planet. Bakura? He shrugged, eased the controls off and called over to the others in the ship that it was time to set up their systems and they would make this run as quick as possible. Not so quick as to miss something, but a dozen passes and they would settle back into hyperspace. Moving his fingers across the control panel- he powered down the hyperdrive, primed the shields, was ready to transmit their clearance for surveying the planet. Coordinating with space traffic control was always tedious, but it kept them from being blasted out of the sky, and from being attacked. Most times...

[Tobias Vos]

Tommin filtered the geography of the planet using the certain conditions set forth by their sponsor..client... what ever. Three square miles on a plateau, away from civilization- but still close enough to where they would need to get proper permits and other papers. For what, he didn't know, but this was what they were paid for- and so they did it. Submitting the report as the hyperdrive did its calculations for another jump to resupply- then another jump to their next planet to survey, he felt happy they were ahead of schedule.

 

With a tidder and tweedle- the sounds indicating that the report was sent and the engines were primed- he pulled back on the levers and the stars shot to starlines- and the familiar blue of hyperspace. They were onto the next task.

[Raphanel]

Imperial Security Bureau Lieutenant Kaitlyn Malenkov walked down the gangway of her corroded shuttle. She scowled at the attendant that offered her a refurbish or repaint then strode off towards the dusty streets of Salis D'aar, the capital of this backwater world. Technically she was on assignment from the empress, but she now represented the extended rebel alliance instead of just the Imperial Crown. It had been a week long journey along the Shiritoku Way, and now she needed to find contact, go underground and begin to build a Rebel Cell.

 

[Beth Andromina]

Quote

 

Rebel Alliance Task Force Silence

- Assigned Callsign - 

Sentinel 

Corvette Maelstrom

 

Menace 

CC-7700 frigate Starling 

 

Ghost 

Corvette Hurricane

 

Traveler 

1 Quasar Fire-class cruiser-carrier

Loadout

2 Light turbolaser Batteries

Advanced Engine system

Attached Squadrons (4)

Templar (Assigned PC Beth Andromina)

12 - T-65XJ3 X-wing starfighters

Loadout

6 Proton Torpedos

6 Concussion Missiles

4 Medium Laser Cannons 

X-Caliber (Assigned PCs Mjan Sadow Iv-Adas, Nia Doarr)

12 - T-65XJ3 X-wing starfighters

Loadout

6 Proton Torpedos

6 Concussion Missiles

4 Medium Laser Cannons 

Hawbat

12 - Aggressive ReConnaissance-170 Fighterbomber

Loadout

2 Medium Laser Cannons

8 Proton Torpedos

2 EMP/ION bombs slung on the wings,

Heavy Sensor/Scope jammers

Wind

12 - RZ-1 A-wing interceptor

Loadout:

12 Concussion Missiles

2 Laser Cannons

Jamming cluster

 

 

 

With little fanfare and in separate flights that were intended to mask the fact that they were operating together, the Rebel Alliance Taskforce Silence emerged from hyperspace over their temporary home of Bakura. They were welcomed by the unaligned planet as something of an extra defence force to defend the aged Golan class defense platforms that were older than most of those working in planetary government. In wheeling flights, the Xwings, AWings, and old model ARCs pinwheeled through the sky, slowly maneuvering towards their jungle base. While a long distance away from the cityscape of the capital, they were within a couple minutes of easy afterburner to get there, which would make the long weeks without a good time in a bar slightly less painful for the starfighter jocks. 

 

All of the Corvettes and the Cruiser were able to go to ground, so they also made the long journey through the buffeting thick atmosphere.