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Vangar

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Vangar last won the day on January 21 2023

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  1. Vangar relinquished his grasp on the cylinder, and with it his grasp on the helm of power to steer the Alliance. Standing, he stepped around the desk. “It is my belief that Empress Raven is still out there, somewhere; but until such a time as she is found, you have my loyalty.” Vangar offered a crisp brow-level Imperial salute before clapping a fist across his chest in a much more militaristic one. “The threat of the Sith is still out there. A warship was seen assaulting the Helvault before all contact was lost. With your permission, I shall resign myself to The Bespin Storm. From there, we will scour the Outer Rim and hunt what remains of the Sith scourge.” ”May you live long and prosper Emperor Pilon.”
  2. The corners of Vangar’s heavy face tugged at the tiniest of smiled at the initial comment. From what he had heard, Beck was no slouch hinself. It had been the reason he had wanted to talk to him. Perhaps it was the force or fate that had brought them both this far Core-wars to the new bastion of Alliance strength. He listened as the man spoke, never taking his reptilian eyes from the man, shifting his weight only once as the chair groaned beneath his weight. As the Admiral drew to a close, Vangar sat thinking for a few moments, the silence filling the air within the stone office. The man was absolutely right, such a thing needed dealt with, and quickly; before it became another pox on the fledgling Alliance. Such thinking drew his mind back to what had been troubling him. A loose end he had thought had been neatly tied up was beginning to unravel. ”You are absolutely right sir and yet we sit on the edge of a precipice. For if we come down too harshly we run the risk of being seen as the very oppressors we drove out by the ignorant masses. Criminal enterprises, lawlessness, even the Jedi and Imperial Knights must all be brought to heel.” Almost absentmindedly, Vangar’s claw-tipped fingers lifted the ornate tube from his desk as he eyed it, weighing what he was about to say. ”Do you know what this is Admiral?” he asked, not really expecting an answer as he continued. ”It is a pretty bauble. It means nothing and yet, its value is immeasurable. The Sith made such a show of attacking our last base of operations, but then claim to have felled the Empress; and yet,” ”There is little other evidence.” He spun the tube, offering an end to Beck. “This delicate cylinder contains the last known orders of the Empress. With it, she ordained the fallen Kolchak as Grand Moff and next in line if she fell. So too did he fall and the responsibility fell to me. Like you have already noticed, chaos laps at our door and even within our own ranks. The wolves have already come for me and I am left with a choice, to bare my fangs and destroy they that stand opposed and with it, the faith of the Rebellion and the billions who follow us; or, to see that the justice I know, more fitting for the Rim than the Core, be carried out without sullying the names of those who so valiantly fought for where we now stand.” Vangar released the cylinder into Beck’s hand, drawing his own back. “I leave the choice to you though. You seem much more suited to such a choice. The question is will you take it? Take upon the mantle to serve this Alliance in my place? Serve as the head of this great and lead these free people into freedom and prosperity. Slowly, the great Barabel stood, his chair grating across the cobbled stone floor. He stepped to the side of his desk and stood watching the naval commander.
  3. The newly established command office that Vangar possessed was devoid of most of the pomp and frills normally demanded by such a position. A few green and gold Tetian tapestries hung over the bare walls. An ornate scroll tube sat atop an intricate gold filigreed stand at the front center of the desk. The highly decorated tube held the orders of the former Empress appointing the holder to act in her stead, the orders that had propelled Vangar into this very office. The empty room was otherwise occupied by a simple synth-desk with a single simple wooden chair behind it and a pair of folding chairs before it. In the corners pairs of filing cabinets, locked and filled with both Imperials files and files carried from Vangar’s personal stores from his time overseeing the Anoat Sector. Behind the desk, the large reptilian crown regent sat hunched over, his fatty clawed digits clacking away at a keyboard. The comm atop his desk dinged as the secretary manning the gate at the bottom of the lift notified him of an arrival. Pulling up the cameras on his viewscreen, Vangar acknowledged the comm. “Let him up.” As the heavy blast doors that stood guard over the lift entrance across the chambered office rumbled open, Vangar turned from his keyboard and looked up at @Beck Pilon. Slowly, as if with deep thought, he stood. He had been intending to send for the admiral, but he had not yet done so. He knew how busy the man was with his work in the Core. “Admiral Beck Pilon, A pleasure,” the Barabel gestured to one of the flimsy folding chairs, inviting him to sit as he retook his own, no better seat. ”My apologies. The war effort and the rebuilding has sapped our budget when it comes to some of the finer things. The niceties once expected by our position . . . “ Sliding his keyboard aside and jabbing the power button to shut down his screen, the bulky lizard turned his full attention, his heavy tired brow weighted with the thoughts of the last few days. “What can I do for you sir?”
  4. Vangar’s retracted claws clacked against the stoney crenellation as he leaned on it. His eyes stared out at the sky as he listened to the words of the Kaleesh. Slowly he spoke, his voice heavy and slow, any fire or vigor gone from it’s slow steady grumble. “Perhaps I have misjudged you Qessax,” he used the being’s first name instead of rank, showing the closeness that he held the man in. A tone of sadness wafted through his tone. “Perhaps too much was asked of you, of your people. But the people of Bespin, of Anoat, my people, are not yours Director.” ”We honor our oaths, even now. Even when it is a sacrifice but to keep our word, we honor it.” “May the people of Kalee flourish under your father’s guidance and wisdom.” The words hung in the still air for several long moments before Vangar sighed heavily. His mind played out a dozen scenarios, each one evaluated and then discarded for want. “Unless your father breaks our accord, such peace between Kalee and Bespin still stands. Return to your quarters, to your wives. Pack your belongings. Return to your home and tell your father of what has transpired here. Serve your people, those you love, and do it with a full heart and clean mind.” Vangar slowly inhaled and exhaled a plume of smokey breath into the cold night air. Finally he turned to look at the Kaleesh, his body still tensed as if Vangar might attack him without a moment’s notice or a second though. “My friend,” the word almost hurt to say it as he looked at the tensed lithe lizard. “You are dismissed.” “I relieve you of the burden I should never have places upon your shoulders. The mantle of Kolchak was too heavy a burden for you to bear. For that, I am sorry.” Vangar looked down towards the smooth stoney floor and then turned to stare back out into the night sky. In the distance a ship flashed for a moment before the darkness returned. The great Barabel slowly reached up to flick a tear from his eye as he blinked, staring off as if he could see beyond the stars themselves.
  5. Vangar’s eyed rolled back in his head with frustration. He had thought the explanation while vague was simple enough. Members of his tribe had sought to terrorize and kill the innocent of Bespin, of Cloud City, in an effort to have their whole species exiled from the cities in the clouds. All Vangar had done was see that those improvised explosions were repositioned to where nobody else got hurt. Mining accidents happened, regardless of the safety procedures in place. ”You are a fool Qessax Jal Todda,” Vangar growled in exasperation. “And I will treat you as such. The Wing Guard are not ruled through fear, nor are the people of Bespin, and it is not how my tribe will be ruled. Loyalty to the man beside you, to your people, to those you see day in and day out and those you do not; not to some far flung ideal. Loyalty to see the best for your neighbor next door or across the cosmos. That is what I desire for the people of this galaxy. The Sith cared for none but themselves and look what they did for the galaxy. The Republic and Empire of old sought patriotism, a rule of fear, and they too fell; their rule faltering when their iron grip or golden ideals were found wanting. No director,” Vangar scowled at @Qessax Jal Todda, “your shallow ideals do not build a lasting peace any more than one man may, any more than the Sith did. It is only together that we all can secure a peace that lasts beyond the reign of one force.” Vangar looked out across the citadel below and the world beyond. Whispering he closed, “And any who cannot do that, who seeks to destroy their neighbor, will be culled.”
  6. The barabel’s eyes flashed in the moonlight as his muscled form shifted subtlety at the Kaleesh’s accusations. He would forego addressing the acting assumption of the Empress’ death. If they were to act as such, why was he only the Crown Regent and not the Emperor? No. That was for another time, possibly. This moment was reserved for accusations of dishonor. “Like the people of Kalee and unlike the softer races of this galaxy, we have expected standards. Standards your people violated tonight.” Vangar turned, pondering his next words. “Honor. Pride. Strength. Family.” He left the final word to hang in the air. He stared out at the strange sky dotted with a few stars and largely consuming nebula of a far off black hole. “Have you ever been to Barab I? Whet am I thinking, of course not; a cushy Imperial and dignitary’s son doesn’t go to such worlds by choice. Nor would any sane being return there to live out his days or force his children to do the same. We were afforded a great chance. It was a chance those too shortsighted could not see.” Vangar turned to look at @Qessax Jal Todda, “Exile.” He said the word with disdain. “Cast off for crimes against those who took them in.” He balled his clawed hands into fists, his muscles flexing and tensing with anger. “To kill the soft. Teach them to fear us. It is a despicable way to live.” “Mining accidents. Ha! Medicine of one’s own design. They just did not know they were taking their own dose.” Vangar raised a heavy eyebrow and smiled, a toothy unnervingly predatorial look. “Why do you think the Wing Guard is so effective?”
  7. Vangar paused as @Qessax Jal Todda hurried to catch up. He stood silently as he listened to what the Kaleesh had to say before turning and walking away. He began to speak, a clear indication the being was to follow. “Additionally to one’s household and office, a director of intelligence does not scurry. It is beneath the station. If your family and people are in too much turmoil, you can be dismissed.” It was a statement more than a query; a barely veiled threat of what could be accomplished with a simple pen stroke. He paused to push open a great wooden door. It creaked on it’s hinges before slamming into the stone wall behind Behind it was a spiraling stone staircase that circled upwards out of sight towards one of the towering parapets of the citadel. As they proceeded upward, their feet clacking on the worn stones, the Barabel continued, his voice a slow rumbling growl, “What is patriotism but a sour excuse by which to encourage men to die on the battlefronts of political dissidence? I have little interest in blind fanatacism. Loyalty. To one’s family, brotherhood, clan, people, world, and even galaxy. That is what I desire. I will not chew my words again Director. You know of my accomplishments; and of all the moffs, I was chosen to take the crown when our Empress was taken in battle. I will claw my way out from whatever abyss any seek to cast me in. The peoples of this galaxy are my responsibility and I will not allow any to stand in the way of their prosperity.” Reaching the end of the staircase, another solid aged thick wooden door swung open to the cool cloudless night above. Narrow crenellations were all that separated the flat-topped area from a plummeting descent to a certain death many stories below. Vangar stepped into the cool air, his thick skin and fat layers insulating his coldblooded heart from the chill of the breeze and cool night air. Stepping out into the moonlight, he cast a forbidding shadow on the weathered stoney roof. He stepped towards the crenellations and stopped, standing as bear the edge as he could. “What good does my being here do for the people of Bespin? What have your assets told you of me Director Jal Todda? Why did you invite me to dinner for your wives to ambush me over fish? Perhaps,” he gestured for Qessax to stand beside him, “I may ask you of your loyalty to the Empire. What have you found of our beloved Empress? Her whereabouts? Her fate?” Vangar turned, slitted eyes regarding the Kaleesh with a predator’s hunger. Here, high above a city covered by nightfall, there was little chance they would be noticed and even slimmer a chance they would be overheard.
  8. Vangar leaned heavily on the table. It creaked beneath his weight as the wife of @Qessax Jal Todda leveled accusations of ignorance his way. He was used to it; so to where the claims of the uniformed, those who he still protected with his blood and blade. It was one of the burdens of leadership. One, he knew Qessax’ father would understand all too well. When she finally quieted her harpy’s tongue, Vangar stood, his breathing coming slow and controlled as he felt the rage at such accusations cut him from who he thought an ally. Slowly, Vangar stood to his full height, his massive claws sparking as he drug them across the table. He turned his head to face Qessax. “The head of Imperial Intelligence should be expected to control his household affairs as well as his office.” His words hung in the air, an uneasy feeling rolling off of of then, one that seemed to imply nothing, not even murder, would be off limits. “Imperial leadership demands nothing less. See to it that this does not happen again or I shall remand you to the custody of the rulers of Kalee and appoint a more capable custodian.” Without another word, Vangar turned and stalked towards the door. As it opened, he looked back at Qessax’ wives and growled. “Fourteen you say? A shame.I mourn their sacrifices. The peoples of the Anoat Sector lost thousands.” And with that, Vangar swept out the door, his cloak swirling behind him as he stalked back through the New Iron Citadel. Fishing his comm unit from his pocket, Vangar held it to his mouth and whispered. “Prepare an Oku-Gutretree team immediately.” “Aye sir. They will be ready at daybreak.”
  9. The question drew pause from the fierce predator as he paused mid-chew, his face recoiling in on itself slightly as thoughts and ideas, memories of his family flooded his mind. Vangar shot a sidelong glance at @Qessax Jal Todda before returning his gaze to Bolda. Swallowing the large mouthful of fish with a gulp he responded with a soft almost threatening chuckle, “You have never been to Barab I have you? The world itself tried to kill all upon it and if the world does not succeed, many of my more traditional kin have been gunned down by squishy beings compensating for their lack of power with weapons of absolute destruction. Someday I will return. Perhaps someday,” he turned to Qessax, “we shall return and put an end to these evil hunts.” He had no more finished when Qessax’s second wife butt in with all but an accusation of disloyalty. Vangar paused as his eyelids flickered across his cold eyes. Slowly he turned to face Lor. “Excuse me? I do not like what you are auggestint,” he hissed. The chair squeaked against the floor as he stood up, pushing it back, leaning forward heavily on the table towards Lor. “Do I, as THE Longfang, care for my tribe far from our traditional homeworld? As Chief of the Bespin Mining Guild did I care for the bottom line of the companies that employed me and for the safety of those who work the tibanna mines? Perhaps my track record can speak for itself. As Baron Administrator have I not done all in my power to see that all within the city I call home are safe and prosperous? Do I care about the ranks of Wing Guard who follow my every order, who put their lives on the line to ensure the safety of the people that took them in? You have but to take a walk across the cloudy skies. As Guildmaster of Bespin, do I not serve and advocate for everyone who calls our skies and clouds home from Barabel to Ughnaught to Human? As Moff of the entire Anoat sector did I not see that stability remained when Black Sun was driven out? Did I not see that the ravages of the Sith Empire never scorched our people under my watch and that they were driven out from Ozu to The Ring? That the people’s of a sector openly defying the Sith lived in prosperity and wellness,” Vangar’s voice rose as his irritation crescendoed, his slitted eyes squinted into a glare as his head twisted slowly toward Qessax. Barab and Kalee culture were similar in several ways, but differed in others. One of which seemed to be the image of family and Vangar realized this. “And you would dare to question my loyalty to the people of the Alliance? After the sacrifices made by the people of Bespin, of the Anoat sector, in defense of an alliance unable to defend itself! How dare your family, your father’s representative accuse me of such shallow weakness?! After all I,” he beat a fist against his chest with a thump, “have done for him, for your world, a world I have never seen. “Look around, even now, in my brief tenure, the Sith have been beaten back and the peoples of the Alliance are being freed from the yoke of oppression. So yes,” he turned back to Qessax’ wives and snapped. “I still serve.” “Everyone who places his or her trust in me.” He spat as the table groaned beneath his bulk as he pressed down on it angry at the implied smudge upon his honor.
  10. The husky Barabel bowed his head deeply in gratitude to both Lor and Bolda as he was served a dish of steaming fish. Taking note of how the others ate, he dug his clawed hands into the flaky fish, pulling it apart into bite-sized chunks that he scarfed down noisily. The pomp and decorum of formal state dinners was gone as lizard dined amongst lizards. The dainty silverware and customs of many squishy species were as painful to adhere to as @Qessax Jal Todda boots, but amongst a galaxy rules by the soft one adhered to them out of respect. Still, it did not mean that one did not think of them as quaint, antiquated customs that prevented the survival of the fittest and the adherence to the lowest common denominator. No, the people of Barab I treasured their kind and strove to ensure that their families were the strongest they could be. Vangar raised a heavy brow at Lor’s words. They sounded lime the start of an apology. Swallowing the mouthful of fish, the Barabel went to speak, but the first of Qessax’ wives was cut off by the second, who was much more direct as she asked about his family. Smiling sinisterly with his hutting underbite and exposed fangs, Vangar sat back, dipping his clawed hands in the water and flicking them dry. He pondered for a moment, analyzing the question for ulterior motive or a desire to seek a weakness in the Crown Regent’s facade. Finally, after several moments of heavy silence he replied. “ My entire family left Barab years ago. For a lifetime, we have fulfilled our contract to the people of Bespin and even today, we serve . . . and thrive far from our home.” He added almost menacingly, his voice a low rumbling grumble. Leaving his brief explanation to hang in the air, he dug his claws into the mountain of fishy flesh before him and scooped up a bite to shovel it into his mouth.
  11. The meeting with the Mining Guild was, in truth, a series of meetings and negotiations with several different factions. Bartering, wheeling and dealing, and sometimes outright shows of force were all par for the course. So when Vangar was interrupted going to and fro by a droid emissary claiming to have a request from @Qessax Jal Todda, he nodded in agreement more intent to get the droid off so he could return to his tasks at hand than actually ponder the bot’s request. His tasks would not conclude until well into the evening when at last the entirety of the board had assembled alongside representatives of the Tetan Royal Court. From there it was a mere matter of pomp and circumstance as the backroom wheeling was formalized. As the Baron Administrator of Bespin, Crown Regent of the Imperium, and Viceroy of the Galactic Allie stepped out of the grand meeting hall under the cloudless sky, he felt the cool breeze against his face. His stomach grumbled, a deep rumble that sounded more earth-hewing than anything. He was hungry, having not eaten at all since they had entered the system. It was only then that he recalled the invitation from Qessax. Fishing out his comm unit, he radio’d the Kaleesh intel officer to see if the offer still stood. Seeing that it did, the hulking lizard smiled and set off into the night. Finding his way back to the New Iron Citadel, Vangar was pleased to see how well it had come along in just a day. Offices had taken shape, security measures customized to Alliance and Imperial protocols, and the new home of the Alliance born anew in the safety of a strong allied world and still, as he moved though the fortified city within a city, he was pleased to see that given the late hour there were still those hard at work. Finding bis way to the private quarters of the Kalee representatives, Vangar knocked loudly. Once allowed access he looked around, noting the two women with Qessax and took the offered seat.
  12. Vangar turned, his clawed hands clasped in the small of his muscled back, to surveil the entourage @Qessax Jal Todda had compiled. Rebels in their earthen brown uniforms, the starched pleats of several local militaries who had contributed greatly to the cause of freedom, the contrasting blacks and whites of polished Imperial plastoids and cloth, even the cloud blues of Bespin Wing Guardsmen stood assembled in columns. His eyes passed over them all. Most were strangers. The few he knew, the Baron Administrator would trust just slightly further than he could throw them. Still, for what they were facing, this lot would do well. Professionals, soldiers, each of them; trained in combat and excelling in intelligence and other areas of forward command set up and creation. Vangar looked at Qessax and nodded curtly before spinning on his booted heels and walking into the waiting ship. As soon as the entourage had bordered and stowed their gear, the ship would take off accompanied by a small fleet of supply vessels. Everything that would be needed to establish a new base of operations. —————————————————— After receiving appropriate clearances and flanked by a small squad of TIE fighters and sleek Tetan local defensive craft, the lead freighter bearing the Viceroy of the Galactic Alliance and his retinue descended to a formal landing pad. Thunder pealed across the sky as the craft swept through the storm. A pair of fighters streaked overhead across the thunderstruck sky as the remainder of the craft were escorted to nearby landing areas to begin offloading their gear and supplies. As Vangar’s freighter touched down, the landing ramp lowered seamlessly. At the edge of the platform, rows of rigid armed soldiers standing at attention in polished green and gold, the royal colors of the Empress Tetan Dynasty. At their front stood Captaib Xero Han. Removing his helmet, Captain Han offered a brisk salute as he stepped forward to meet Vangar as the Barabel descended to Tetan soil and advanced between the ranks of Alliance forces and operatives. Stopping at the end of the Alliance colums, Vangar returned to salute before stepping forward to offer a firm handshake. His hand completely enveloped the alien Captain Han’s. “The Emperor regrets that he is unable to meet you upon upon arrival. Pressing matters of State.” He offered as his only explanation. “He has instructed that we are to see you and your team to the New Iron Citadel, which the Tetan people offer up for use by Alliance Command for as long as it is deemed necessary. It is an honor to serve the galaxy in such a way.” Vangar nodded in understanding. The Emperor had a kingdom to oversee. He had sent his emissaries to offer aid to a fledgling Alliance born from the amalgamation of a sprinkling of failed, rebuilding, planetary, and rogue groups. His generosity more than made up for his lack of meeting. His gift enough to acknowledge the legitimacy of the Alliance’s claims. “We look forward to the start of a long and prosperous alliance.” Vangar gestured for Qessax and his few top level commanders to join him as they fell in alongside Captain Han. Flanked by a phalanx of Tetan soldiers they began to move through the winding windswept streets of the city-world. ”The original Iron Citadel was home to the Krath, dark sorcerers of yore. The royal palace now sits atop its remains containing the dark histories and lingering curses beneath layers of specially sealed duracrete.” Han described, “The New Iron Citadel is built in the tradition of classic Tetan culture. The fortress is heavily fortified. We have the means to have the slabs of stone wired as you have need. Currently we have a team of Imperial Marines securing the facility. All offices were moved offsite weeks ago in preparation for your arrival. The Mining Guild Council is anxious to meet with you Baron Administrator; once you are settled of course. They are currently in board meetings.” The commanding officer explained as they moved, dual columns of Alliance soldiers falling in amongst the Tetan forces. Continuing on, the looming shadowy walls and towers of the New Iron Citadel materialized from the horizon, large, imposing, and powerful. Thick walls, towering spires, crenellations, imposing gargoyles all of it led to an aura of command that oozed to everything that was overshadowed by the Citadel. “All of this,” Captaib Hans gestured, “Is at the disposal of the Alliance.” ”You and your emperor have our eternal gratitude,” Vangar responded in deference. “The Emperor’s generosity is only rivaled by his goodness.” Captain Han nodded. “I will leave you and your men to it. These soldiers will ensure that you and your men remain unbothered by any of the local rabble.” Han saluted and the with his personal entourage set off. Turning to Qessax, Vangar did not take his eyes off of the Citadel. “Begin your analysis of the area. We need to know any weakness inside or outside the walls. See to it that the intelligence officers are established in the lowest levels near the holding cells.” He pointed to a pair spiraling towers each isolated from the main sprawling stone keep. “Those will be for the Imperial Knights and the Jedi respectfully. Offices are to be assigned under standard Imperial protocol Osk-Orenth-3. I have a meeting with the Mining Guild. With any luck, this arrangement is more than an attempt to secure better trade agreements with the Bespin Mining Guilds.”
  13. The perilous course deep into the core was guard enough, or so one would think. Even so, when The Bespin Storm dropped out of hyperspace, it was met by a fleet of home guard warships that would rival the entire capacity of the Sith armada or Alliance navy. Vangar Longfang stood on the bridge adorned not in his titanium power suit, but in the finest the Imperial Remnant and the wealth of Bespin had to offer. The Aeien silk cloak of blue and unique silvered belt buckle denoted his rank of Baron Administrator, his rank pip atop his crisp black Imperial uniform; but none of that compared to the air of authority with which the Barabel carried himself, a ferocious predatory aura that radiated outward encouraging al around him to naturally redouble their efforts for fear of failing the newly appointed leader of the free galaxy. All about him, the crew worked tirelessly. Wing Guard, Imperial navy men, former Republic sailors, and Rebel-aligned spacers worked together flawlessly since being assigned to the newly minted The Bespin Storm outside of Cloud City. The holocomm fuzzed to life filling the viewscreen overlooking the bridge. On the display was a single Tetan Marine Commander. “Captain Xero Han,” the soldier stated by way of introduction, “It is an honor to welcome The Bespin Storm and her cree to Empress Teta. On behalf of His Royal Highness the Emperor, we are prepared to authorize the immediate landing of your envoy and to offer you escort to the Iron Citadel.” Vangar Longfang stood up even taller and straighter if that was possible. He returned the brisk salute, nodding in acknowledgement. “Thank you Captain. I and my men will plan to arrive planetside within the hour.” The Barabel pointed a flawed finger to his comms officer, a clear signal to cut the feed. After the relay was stopped, Vangar turned to face @Qessax Jal Todda who had been standing nearby. “Commander, prepare an attachment of our finest commandos and attachés. We want to look the part should we meet the Emperor.” _________________________________ “Commander Blane you have the conn,” Vangar called out before spinning to leage the bridge. “We will send for the rest of the gear when a base is established.” ”Aye sir.” The Bespin Storm could carry enough men and supplies to besiege all but the strongest holdout world for months on end. Empress Teta was one of those worlds it could not. It did not matter because that was not why they were they and it was not for what the Storm was loaded. Of course it still stood battle ready on the edge of the system; but it was packed to the pods with all the necessary staff, soldiers, computers, and supplies to set up a completely new base of operations. In essence, if the people were the heart of the Alliance, The Bespin Storm carried the makings of the Alliance’s spine. _________________________________ The shuttle was worn but pristine, an Outer Rim dignitary’s property seized by the Wing Guard when it was found to be smuggling polstine spice. A pair of burly Whipid Wing Guard stood guard, watching the loading of the initial supplies that were to be planet-bound. A Rebel supply clerk checked and double checked every grav-sled and supply crate before it was moved aboard. Vangar Longfang approached the ship with a smile. The hustle and bustle of the crew even without his overwatch spoke volumes to the dedication of those who had been handpicked to crew the vessel. As he approached those less in the know offered salutes. Those of the Wing Guard that knew stayed focused on their work. He could board the ship and wait for the others; but Vangar knew how cramped such a vessel would quickly become. As such, he remained outside waiting for Qessax and the hand-picked finest the Alliance had to offer.
  14. Vangar turned to regard the Kaleesh intelligence operative. “A Crown Regent and a Viceroy has many commitments. Shadowy operations to retrieve wayward warships are few and far between. Now, I must resume my public persona.” He shook his head as he began to walk, signaling the warrior to walk alongside him. As they neared a hallway, he continued, “The galaxy has been torn asunder. Even as peoples begin to rebuild, they will look to the Empire, the Rebellion, and the Alliance for guidance and, at times, assistance. It will be up to us to see that we present a face of strength and compassionate resolution.” Reaching a docking chute, the Barabel stopped. He ran a gloved hand over the glistening durasteel as he pondered for a moment before continuing. The muscles beneath the armored weave rippled visibly as he clenched his fist and rapped it against the bulkhead. “Nar Shaddaa has been destroyed. The Empire has been decapitated. We may have won, but at great cost. We too must rebuild. An unlikely ally has offered us a new base of operations in the Deep Core. We will proceed there to build relations and secure a headquarters to work from; but first, I must return to my home on Bespin. We need to put our best foot forward. If you would send for a regiment of your finest regaled soldiers, you may accompany me. Provided, of course, you are not needed elsewhere commander?” Vangar keyed open the door to the waiting transport. He smiled to the Kaleesh as he gestured aboard. “Perhaps your father would lead the men, an envoy of strength on behalf of the Alliance.” Waggling an eyebrow ridge, he chuckled softly before disappearing aboard the waiting craft. He would check in with the ship commander and direct them towards Cloud City and The Bespin Storm.
  15. IN ORBIT OVER HOSRA: The streaks of hyperspace resolved to pinpoint pricks of starlight and distant worlds. Standing on the bridge, Vangar breathed a sigh of relief. He had half expected some hidden vigilantes to cause problems midflight. There had been vigilantes, those who refused to take the opportunity to go home. Most were gunned down without remorse by responding security droids aboard the ship. One group managed to almost make it to the bridge; the jammed doors prevented that for long enough a time for forces to respond. By the time the ship dropped from hyperspace, Vangar Longfang was certain the ship had been cleared of dissidents. Slowly the Lucrehulk spun into position high above the agrarian world. A dozen transports hung in orbit, slowly moving towards the former Trade Federarion warship. Once they had docked teams of Imperial and Rebel naval teams, marines, and soldiers boarded. They would assist in moving refugees and prisoners offsite and begin assessments of the vessel, moving it to a new secure dockyard. There the retrofitting would be complete and the ship entered into Alliance service. Vangar and his team remained on the bridge until the damaged doors had been opener. At that time, one and a half dozen naval troopers and technicians poured into the bridge. Removing his helmet, Vangar turned to face the new arrivals who offered salutes. He returned the salute as a grizzled Rebel commander stepped forward, “Lieutenant Commander Hays Krile here to relieve you sir.” Vangar smiled, “So relieved. The ship is yours commander. We will depart within the hour.” Vangar turned to @Tilt07 and his men. “Well done men. You are relieved. Report back to HQ after you take a few days R&R.” Keying his comm to the rest of the team, Vangar announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, mission accomplished.” His smile was audible across the airwaves. “Unless you wish to remain aboard and are authorized as such, we should be off within the hour.” Vangar then strode from the deck, flanked by a duo of paired marines, 2 Imperial, 2 Rebel. Finding the remainder of the crew, he smiled and offered a brisk salute. “Well done each of you. The Alliance has need of you all. The Sith have left this galaxy in a state of turmoil. It is up to us to put it right. From here, I will adjourn to the Deep Core. Our allies have offered us a secure base of operations from which to act from. If you are not otherwise assigned, you may accompany me.”
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