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Forn Dodonna

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  1. An encoded and untraceable communique arrives for the reigning Republic Chief of State. ---encrypted comm--- Greetings. I wish I could be communicating with you under better circomstances, however due to the unpredictable nature of the universe, I was detained for quite a long time, though to me it seemed but an instant. The recent attack upon the Mon Calamari shipyards was carried out completely without my knowledge, and if I had known, I most certainly would not have ordered it, nor taken part if told to. I had my own plans to give aid to the Republic, however as I have said, the universe had other ideas. I would like to meet with you face-to-face to discuss further terms, and I will abide by whatever conditions you set, no matter what they are. Yours in good faith, Forn Dodonna ---enclosed details of incident with space-time rift--- ---end comm---
  2. ((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.
  3. With a middle-aged former officer and a droid at the helm, a non-descript Skipray Blastboat streaks through the depths of hyperspace, occasionally dropping out to calculate new coordinates to prevent being tracked.
  4. "Thank you, Tycho," Forn said simply as she stood up to leave. "The room controls are simple enough; red for sealing and unsealing the doors, green for the bugproofer, and white for the droids. I'll be back in a day or two, depending on how long this takes, since I don't want to transmit from here and give ourselves away. If you decide to act on my ideas before I return, let me know and I will do what I can for you." After pressing the required buttons, Forn took her leave from the conference room, her new droid following her as she went, and strode through the underground command center and back to the turbolifts. She tood a different one this time, which led to a nearby hanger bay where she had her old Skipray Blastboat from her Alliance days. The droid, designation XHK-2 (Tycho's was XHK-1), would serve as the vessel's co-pilot, and as Forn settled herself into the pilot's chair, the robot plugged itself into the main computer. After another couple of minutes of preparation, the Borleias Sunset lifted off, heading for the blackness around Bakura. Once free of the gravity well, Forn pulled the hyperspace lever, her destination unknown and untraceable.
  5. As Forn waited for the others to comment on what she and Jarnok had to say, a warbling sound could be heard, signalling that someone was seeking entrance into the conference room. "Enter," Forn said into the speaker next to the room sealing controls, as she pushed the button that would unlock the door. A messenger made two steps into the room, stopped, and began to speak. "Ms. Dodonna," the young ex-lieutenant began crisply. "Colonel Wilton wishes to inform you that the Galactic Federation Senate has begun broadcasting their ongoing session over the HoloNet. He also wishes to inform you that none other then Jidai Geki himself is attempting to run for Chancellor of that body." There was a moment's silence before Forn, her face suddenly apoplectic with rage, spoke again. "Very well, that will be all," she said in a menacing hiss. No one else in the room had to be told what this could mean, including the young woman who had delivered the message. She turned about and strode silently from the room, Forn resealing the door in her wake. There was another pregnant pause before anyone spoke again. "Tycho, I think you know what this means," Forn said finally, her tone back to normal. "Someone is going to have to address the Senate with what we know about SEED and Geki in particular. I'd prefer to be the one to do it, but it is of course your call. You won't have to worry about me giving anything away in the process -- I know how to keep secrets -- and anything I would have to talk about in relation to that...that animal...is in the past." But what the rest of the group could not see was Forn's hands, which were balled up into tight fists as they rested under the table. Forn Dodonna was too experienced in the field of command to betray her emotions in such an overt manner for very long.
  6. As Jarnok spoke, Forn remembered something she had been keeping ever since meeting Jedi Master Ara-Lai Kaipi above Coruscant, when she had left the Alliance. She got up for a moment with an "I'll be right back", and left the room, resealing the door as she did so. The bugproofer remained on. Five minutes later, she was back, carrying a small data module and a head full of ideas. She handed the item to Jarnok, then took her seat once again, before explaining herself. "That data module was given to me by a Jedi Master by the name of Ara-Lai Kaipi when I first left the Alliance. It contains detailed plans on a specialized type of armor that resists Force-based attacks in addition to normal forms of weaponry. She had intended it for myself, but I don't see why you can't come up with versions for all of us. It also might be a good idea for us to secure a few ysalamir, in case by some chance we run afoul of the Sith or any Force-user employed by our potential enemies, but that is your call, Tycho. "At this point, all we need is the word "go", I think. If Vash does not have any more concerns, we can commence with the details of the plan..."
  7. Forn listened intently to the reactions the gathered party had to her plan. It was risky, that much was true, but if basic precautions were enacted and maintained, then even if the hoped-for war did not occur, their hand in this would remain undiscovered, and their location hidden. In addition, she liked Jarnok's plan, and indeed she would be able to find the men neccesary. While waiting for an opportunity to speak, she thought of just how this might be carried out. Finally, she had an idea. "Yes, Jarnok, that would be an excellent idea, and I would be pleased to be able to work with you on selecting the appropriate candidates from among our forces. Boarding operations always go more smoothly when you hit hard with well-trained troops." After addressing Jarnok, Forn turned back to Tycho. "When I was with the Alliance we contracted Rane Scando to train some of our troops in the Mandalorian way. Out of eleven hundred men and women of many different species we sent to recieve the training, only one hundred and thirty or so returned. And what was more, Mr. Scando had brainwashed them during this, and in the end they and he turned on me. I was captured by SEED, tortured, and eventually left to die when Sanity's End was attacked the first time. Needless to say, this man styling himself as the 'last of the true Mandalorians' has earned my ire." By the time she had finished recounting this, Forn's face resembled an angry mother gundark's. "Fortunately, when the man disappeared for a while, the Rebels were able to undo this and regain control. "I'm not suggesting anything about you, Jarnok, but I thought you all might want to know. And Vash, I know that a fleet action is what we want to avoid now. However, I feel that at some point, it will become necessary to utilize these forces at our disposal, and so we need to keep them ready. I'm sure you understand why."
  8. Seeing that everyone was now present and accounted for, Forn Dodonna pressed a pair of buttons in sequence. At this, two things happened: in the wall immediately behind her, the door to a hidden compartment slid upwards, and a bipedal combat droid, about seven feet tall and bearing no visible weapons, emerged and promptly folded itself into a bundle below the table. As this happened, the conference room door closed, and a faint but steady humming noise overtook the room. "Bugproofers," Forn said matter-of-factly. "State-of-the-art, and the droid is a little something special I procured for myself. Also, I've got one for each of you should you want them. They're "emissary droids", if you catch my meaning." At this last pronouncement, Forn gave a not-so-subtle wink. "Now then, allow me to cut to the chase. Open Sky, despite all you see here, is in the red. We owe the Rebellion a lot of credits still, and though I've worked out a deal with the locals, we still owe them as well. Tycho, you are correct, we did get these troops from the Rebellion. They followed me willingly when I broke formal ties with the Alliance, but we all still respect them, and the new government that they are attempting to set up. I estimate our troop strength to be about thirty-two hundred men, from assorted Marine units within the Alliance. "And you are also correct that we do have a fleet of sorts. We have with us three Mon Calamari MC90a cruisers, two Nebulon-B frigates bearing captured ID codes, twenty-five Skipray Blastboats, and twenty-four TIE Defenders. Enough force to take on SEED and beat the tar out of them easily in a straight-up fight, but you all know as well as I do that they don't play that way. However, I digress. "What we need to do right now is secure some funds. We need to start engaging in a few friendly acts of piracy, preferably against the Empire but that's your call, but preferrably so whoever becomes our victim won't be able to track or identify us. Fortunately, I've been working on that as well." Not wanting to take any chances, Forn began to hand datapads to her four companions. "These padds contain the outline of my plan, as well as maps to the base. Commit them to memory, then destroy the padds as soon as possible. Tycho, I submit this plan to your approval, and if you have any alterations to suggest, let me know." Satisfied that she had covered all the basics from her end, Forn sat at her place, and waited for the next person to speak. ((OOC: Check your PMs, guys.))
  9. Forn nodded at Tycho's astonishment upon seing the base and just what she had brought to the table, but otherwise she kept her feelings hidden quite expertly. This man, she could tell, was a rank beginner at leadership; though he obviously had enthusiasm for the job, the experienced commander that was Forn Dodonna wondered to herself if he would have what it takes to lead a real down-and-dirty campaign like she was anticipating. Only time would tell on that, but for now, Forn was happy to be put back into her element in the role of fleet commander. As she dismounted the ship's boarding ramp, followed by Tycho and the rest of the crew, the platoon of Marines came to attention with a loud chorus of clicking noises, and Colonel Wilton strode forward to meet his commander, who returned his salute. Forn was keeping her distance from the rest, however, as the group made their way into the base (the Marines would remain where they were for now), as she had a couple things to tell the good Colonel in the semi-privacy of the breezeway. "Make sure the men know that we're not an official military faction," she wispered to Wilton as they walked. "That means they need to start dressing the part; I want them back in civilian clothes within two days." "What about our uniforms?" Max asked, somewhat surprised at Forn's order. "How will we know officers from the enlisted?" "That's the thing, Max," she continued, unabashed at her friend's astonishment. "We're no longer officers -- not you, not I, not even that platoon leader back there -- we're all mercenaries now. And the enlisted, they chose to accompany us, and I want them to see themselves as equal in value to us. The soldiers will keep their armor, naturally, but the rest need to start thinking of themselves as free citizens. We can no longer think of them as we did before, Max...those days are gone. Tycho Kosk is in overall command, and I want you and the rest of the officers and men to respect that." "I must admit, Forn," Max began, still somewhat nonplussed, "that this is making me a bit uneasy. I would much prefer to keep to the traditions and discipline of a formal army, but I do see your point. With our little scism with the Alliance, we can no longer claim governmental authority. But I hope we can at least get them to be friends of ours..." "I don't think that will be a problem," Forn replied, smiling broadly. "I've done too much for them in the past to be totally alienated from their good graces." The two former officers were the first into the base proper, and without wasting any time, Forn followed Max into a nearby turbolift that would take them down to the primary command center deep underground. When she arrived in the small complex of equipment-filled rooms, the familiar buzz of activity, of messangers running to and fro, of the scattered barking of orders, of the steady thrumming of computer monitors, and finally the various noises of droids doing basic tasks. At last, she was back in familiar psychological territory... When the rest of the Open Sky leadership arrived in the command center, they could move off to a small conference room, where the real business at hand could be hashed out.
  10. As the ship settled upon the landing platform, Forn made her way quickly to the cockpit, and input a series of command codes to alert the ground staff that this ship was friendly and bore their leaders. "It's good to see you again, Forn," replied the crackled voice of Max Wilton. "I'm sending out an honor guard to recieve you and escort the leadership into the base. We're putting the finishing touches on it now..." "Very good, Max," the woman replied. "We'll be out shortly." And with that, she terminated the short-range comm, strode back out of the cockpit, and roused her companions. "Alright everyone, we're home. Let's get our stuff together and settle in." Forn, of course, had little more then the clothes on her back; everything else had been left here from her last visit. ---------------------------- As the Corellian freighter sat at its assigned landing platform, a platoon of smartly-dressed Marines marched forth from the nearby underground entrance, and formed up in two rows from the boarding ramp. Armed with empty rifles, they fell into a shoulder-arms position, and at the end of the small corridor of men stood a man dressed in a plain gray uniform adorned only by colonel's bars on his shoulders. Aged somewhat beyond his forty-five years, Colonel Max Wilton was a broad-shouldered, ramrod-backed epitone of discipline and fairness, who had proved himself an effective capital ship commander. As a respected friend of Forn Dodonna, he had used his skills to help in many prior battles, including the assault on Artus, the liberation of Coruscant, and the battle at Sanity's End. When Forn had returned to Coruscant to meet with the rest of the Open Sky leadership, he had taken charge of completing the Bakuran operation. The main base, for all intents and purposes, was finished; its mostly underground structures had been equipped and furnished with the latest technology. The computer systems throughout all of the Bakuran instillation had been updated with the latest security measures,and the weapons systems and other defenses had been placed effectively. In addition, sensor posts and emergancy starfighter hangers had been placed on both of Bakura's moons; as well, on the smaller of the two moons, a small technical analysis station was being built, housed seperately in an abandoned mine far below the surface. The only thing that needed to be set up now was the defense shield. Other then that, the defenses at this point consisted thusly: 1 planetary minefield: mines are self-powered and target-descretionary (simple AI enables them to lock onto an enemy ship en masse and overpower it). 3 Golan III defense platforms 2 Planetary ion cannons 5 Planetary turbolaser battaries Several starfighter hangers in various, hidden locations, each able to hold a wing of six squadrons. Now all that needed to be done was to delegate just who was in charge of what...
  11. ((OOC: Forn does not have cancer -- that is BS and Ben knows it.)) When Forn finally woke up from her slumber in the back of the freighter's passenger area, she made her way forward to check on the vessel's progress, having felt through the deckplates as she walked that they were now in hyperspace. After knocking on the cockpit door she was admitted, and bid the two pilots a good-natured "how's it going" as she looked at the ship's monitors. She noted with a smile that they were nearing their destination, and after muttering a quick "thanks", she left the pilots to their task and went to rejoin the group. "Hello Renn," she said lightly as she sat next to him to face Tycho. "It's good to see you again, but unfortunately I need to talk to Mr. Kosk in person. I'll meet you on the surface when we arrive, alright?" As the two exchanged nods and Renn moved off, Forn looked seriously at Tycho -- she was not interested in conflict, and at this point it mattered little to her who led Open Sky. What she needed to express, however, was the best way she could serve the organization, and there was no doubt as to how that was. Forn Dodonna was a military leader, she did her best work leading men and women of all species into battle, and this was how she had earned her reputation. She was a no-nonsense kind of commander, as well as a capable judge of character, and though she didn't know this man very well, it was not her desire to cross him. "Mr. Kosk -- may I call you Tycho?" she asked, still looking him eye to eye, yet keeping her voice low so that no one else would have cause to evesdrop. "I need to know more about you. I assure you now that I have no interest in sparking a conflict with you, or any kind of internal strife -- I had my fill of that when I left the Rebellion. But you have to realize that my best assets are here --" she tapped her head with her fingers "-- and I am best suited for the commanding of starships. You are the leader of the OS, you have brought these assorted beings to your side under our banner, and I respect that. "What we need to do now, before we arrive at Bakura, is make a pact between the two of us, for all the rest here to see, that puts to rest any lingering issues of leadership. I will serve you and the cause to the best of my ability, and I will do my best to ensure that we are successful in whatever we do. I'm sure you know of my skills, but I would like to know of yours..."
  12. ((OOC: This is the home base of Open Sky, and should fall under the month-long grace period of secrecy from this day, and not the date of the original post. Thank you and have a good day.)) It had been quite a while indeed since the estranged Rebel capital ships, along with their defences, "booty", and starfighters, had arrived at the remote world of Bakura. The local population was small enough that the newly-arrived forces were quickly able to negotiate access to a suitable section of the southern continent, as well as an area on one of Bakura's moons that had been played out of minerals. In exchange for protection of the world, the locals had agreed to furnish paid workers to build the base, a statute of secrecy, and access to local trade and the benefits of protecting off-world shipments and other minutiae. Colonel Max Wilton, Forn's good friend and officer in command of the Rejuvinator, had overseen the negotiations, and all parties had been suitably satisfied with the agreement...provided the rest of Open Sky agreed to the treaty. Forn herself had been there to help in the preliminary setup, and upon being satisfied that the base's plans were up to scratch, she had gone back to Coruscant to meet her companions. It had been a short time after Forn had left that the real work had begun on the base. As the Golan platforms had been set up and the minefield dispersed, workers from the ex-Rebel ships were joined by a brigade of locals to begin full-scale construction. The first part of the base would be simple enough: deep in the forest several small command structures poked from the tree canopy, each topped with sensors that could pinpoint an enemy craft approaching from as far as the Endor system. Several planetary-scale turbolaser and ion cannon batteries were begun, as well as the beginnings of several starfighter hangers blasted into the sides of nearby mountains. The instillation proper would be buried underground, and plans were drawn up for an energy shield of enough power to deflect any spaceborne bombardment which would be built as soon as resources allowed. On the small area of Bakura's second moon that Open Sky's agents had secured, the tech looted from one of the captured frigates was offloaded and put into storage until suitable facilities for analysis and reproduction could be set up. While the base itself was still being carved out, the various crews and starfighter pilots were taking it in turn to enjoy shore leave on the world below, and when on duty, were doing their best to keep the ships in good order until proper port facilities could be set up and put into action. Some of the officers waited somewhat impatiently for the leadership to join them, but all in all things were keeping far too busy for much idle speculation to occur... Soon enough, however, things were getting rightly on track; it was only a matter of time before Open Sky was ready to embark upon its intended mission...
  13. The reports continue to flow through the HoloNet, informing the rest of the Galaxy as to what is going on at Coruscant. The veteran reporter Jessra D'galna resumes her commentary as several things begin to happen... "Here I am once again on Coruscant, where the battle for control of the Galactic capital is still going on. I've received word that the Rebels are nearly finished with evacuating the civilians from quite a wide radius away from the battle...hold on, something is happening....the Empire may be making a move..." A bellowed oath and a "zoom in, zoom in, you nerf-herder!" is barely heard amidst the cacophony of noise that suddenly erupts around them. The cameraman obliges, and a rough zoom is concentrated on the source of this turn of events. To anyone watching, another quarter of the screen shows this change in focus, and soon a horrified sight is shown to the whole Galaxy, not unlike a certain doomed zeppelin that will meet its fate in another galaxy, in the far future... "Oh my goodness," the reporter sighs in a voice of mingled horror and awe. "Some sort of explosion has erupted on the Upper Levels, and seems to be catching one of the transports --" a deafening roar is heard "-- she's burst into flame, she's burst into flame! She's going down, the transport is going down and impacting on the surface! The transport is down! Oh get out of the way, get out of the way...the horror...oh my God... I've never seen anything like this ladies and gentlemen, this is the worst of the worst catastrophes I've ever seen...oh the humanity of it all...!" The reporter stops speaking for a while as the transport continues to burn, but the footage is uninterrupted, and the rest of the screen shows other transports as they safely unload their civilian cargo.
  14. Across all channels and throughout the Galaxy, almost all HoloNet activity is intercepted and knocked off the network as a Priority One-Alpha transmission clearance, obtained by the breakaway Open Sky movement, begins to replace the usual holo-dramas, local news, and other programmes currently running. The images are replaced with several wide-angle shots of the Coruscanti skyline above and around the old Jedi Temple, paying special attention to several dozen large-capacity transports as they land and evacuate civilians from the warzone The insignia of the ships can clearly be seen and identified as belonging to the Rebel Alliance. A middle-aged female voice can be heard describing the scene; her tone is professional and it is clear that she knows what she is talking about and that the information is reliable and continuously updated. "This is Jessra D'galna here on Coruscant, where the recent attack by the Rebel Alliance against the Imperial headquarters, combined with what I can only describe as a plague of zombies has unfortunately left hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians dead...hold on...I'm getting a bulletin here..." The woman pauses for a moment, and the shuffling of paper is heard. "I've just recieved word that the Rebel Alliance is apologizing fully and formally, and that they are offering safe refuge and resettlement off-world to anyone who has been rendered homeless by this tragedy, as well as for those who have lost loved onse and property to either disaster. They also advise that any remaining Imperial forces should not interfere with this evacuation, as this will prove the true nature as has been expressed by the Rebellion for many years..." The woman paused again, and this time she can be clearly heard to blow her nose. "...and I must agree with this. I have witnessed for myself this catastrophe --" a quarter of the screen switches to footage taken earlier of a fierce bombardment taking place near the old Jedi temple "-- and I am forced to wonder what kind of galactic government would be so cowardly as to hide among their own civilians in the name of retaining power...hold on...something new is happening..." The earlier footage is replaced by the picture of a transport landing amongst the ruins of the Jedi Temple. The camera zooms in on this, and the image of several people in robes, along with quite a few other beings that somehow managed to survive the recent attacks, is barely discernable as they board the large ship. The vessel begins to rise and fly away from the ruined temple, leaving the POV of the camera as it (presumably) moves off to load up more refugees. "It seems that some have survived the destruction of the former Jedi Temple...this seems like a miracle of the Force to this veteran reporter. So far, the civilian evacuation is going smoothly, but we will continue to provide the rest of the Galaxy with up-to-the-nanosecond coverage....stay tuned for more footage..." The transmission continues uninterrupted...
  15. There was only one thing wrong with this plan...Forn had been expecting something of this nature, which was why she had called the ships that she did. The "loyalist element" was minimal, and was quickly put down by the overwhelming majority of the many ships' crewers that had served and known Forn Dodonna in the past years, long before Kirana Sunrider had even joined the Rebellion. The drugged and unconscious, but otherwise unharmed loyalists are put into shuttles and sent packing back to Kirana instead of the promised ships, having been stripped of all knowledge of where the fleet had been headed. They are sent back with a message for the Alliance admiral. --private message-- Just let us go, Kirana. We have no desire to fight you, and in fact, we want to help defeat the Empire. Do not come after us again. --end message-- The fleet continues on to its destination, unmolested and untracked, and now, free of any inside pursuit.
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