Outer Heaven

[Nikolai Kolchak]

Outer Heaven

 

Astrographical Information

Stationary or Mobile: Mobile

Current Location: Core Worlds region

Grid Coordinates: M-10

 

Physical Information

Class: Space station

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable

Primary Terrain: Run-down cityscape

Points of Interest: The Respite (cantina)

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: n/a

Immigrated Species: various

Primary Language(s): Galactic Basic, Huttese

Faction Affiliation: neutral

 

Defense Rating: 3 

 

JediRP Canon History: Outer Heaven is a space station. Formerly a haven for bounty hunters, smugglers, and low-lifes; it was once the main headquarters of the Outer Heaven Bounty Hunters Guild (and was extremely well-defended), until the Imperials took an interest in the system. Since those days, it became a simple a stopping point or hiding place for the criminals and low-lifes of the galaxy. That is, until late in the Galactic Civil War, when it was targeted for liberation by Imperial Remnant Naval and Intelligence forces. Now it has transformed from a den of iniquity into a defensive base of operations for the Imperial Navy, a home for refugees displaced by the war, and a place the restocking and retrofitting of Imperial fleet assets. 

 

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

*edited by Nikolai Kolchak following the liberation of Outer Heaven by Imperial Remnant forces))

Edited December 16, 2021 by Nikolai Kolchak

[Nikolai Kolchak]

HYPERSPACE:

 

The fleet cut through the folds of hyperspace, silent and predatory. Every line carved a path of powerful intent through the void. Like a sleek school of deep sea predators, they moved as one, intent on their prize. 
 

Every ship knew it’s task. Every crewman and soldier their commands. Rebels and Imperials stood shoulder to shoulder awaiting the moment they returned to real space. Crews worked tirelessly and fluidly like well oiled machines of war.

 

Kolchak stood at the center of the bridge aboard the Cornelius, his arms tucked professionally in the small of his back. “Vhen ve drop from transit, launch ze fighters, dropshipz, and zupport crsft. Ve vill zhen move to engage vonce ze defenses are occupied and begin neutralization.”

 

_______________________________
 

REALSPACE: 

OUTER HAVEN

 

The fleet dropped from hyperspace in unison. This far from civilization there were no planetary bodies to mask their approach. As such, they had to revert to real space a significant distance from Outer Haven; far enough to not raise alarm, and by affiliation, station shielding and defenses. 
 

From there, no order needed to be given. Every soldier and sailor was already at his and her station. Orders had already been given. Fighter craft  and drop ships leapt from their bays in formation streaking towards the cityscaped station.

 

There was plenty of traffic milling about the station’s airspace. Some craft were awaiting what passed for clearance to land from the difference gangs and enterprises that controlled swaths of the station. Other ships floated in place overhead while their owners frolicked or rotted below. Some had been there long enough, ownership was unknown. The owners may very well be dead. Outlaw techs worked and welded carving valued parts for resale and installing illegal upgrades off the books.

 

In mere moments, chaos would break loose. Loosely held treaties of peace would shatter in the din and through it, the Alliance would wrest control.
 

By the time any alarm could be raised in this sector, the attack would be commencing in another. Communication between the rival gangs, hampered already, were sabotaged by Intelligence Agents already lurking planetside. All it would take was disabling one portion of the station’s defenses, one shield relay; held together by a mutual understanding of criminal heads; to doom the anarchy that this outpost was known for. By the end of the artificial day, the Alliance would be in control.  

Edited September 16, 2021 by Nikolai Kolchak

[Nikolai Kolchak]

From a distance, Vice Admiral Kolchak watched the opening moves of their high stakes game. Swarms of Imperial fighters swirled mercilessly above the synthetic station-world of iniquity, while equal amounts of rapid-insertion transports ferried their cargos of veteran Imperial soldiers, combat intelligence operatives, and mech to the surface. Behind the cover of parked floating craft and scurrying vessels, the defensive responses were not entirely lackluster, but decidedly  insufficient to drive off the rapid onslaught of Imperial and Rebel fighters. Interceptors and classic Tie fighters arced and looped as they delivered strafing runs to clear a landing zone near the disabled kink in the defenses, courtesy of Kolchak’s newfound murderbot assets.

 

Kolchak nodded in appreciation at the communication from the bots. He was impressed as scans seemed to indicate it had taken the duo of droids little time to disable an entire sector’s defenses. They had created the perfect place to begin deployment of shock, storm, and attack troopers. In little time, mechanized warmachines would be in play as well, establishing a steel foothold on the formally lawless world. From there, the spread would be quick, targeting intelligence-identified locations of strategic importance, chokepoints, and strongholds. Bringing such a world to heel would take time; but establishing that control ought to be done quickly. Surprise and confusion were on the side of the aggressors for the moment. Kolchak and his crews aimed to capitalize on that once again.

 

“IA One and Two,” the fleet command officer monitoring Ruin and Fera’s traffic responded. “Regular Uniformed Forces are being deployed in your immediate vicinity and will take command of your station. Please divert to the power core. Be advised, permanent shut down may result in the destruction of Outer Heaven and is to be avoided at all costs. Expect heavy allied criminal resistance. This channel will remain open in case emergency evac is required. Fleet Command Over.”

 

Meanwhile, the Imperial fleet began to spread out as it began starting to close on the station. Surprise had been achieved; but now the presence of Imperial forces was known. It was time to abide by an old Imperial standby: Compliance through fear.

 

Salvos were released at ships attempting to escape, urging them at first to stand down and either return planetside and await further instruction or group with surrendered craft above the station. Those who did not resist or flee would not be harmed. Those that disregarded these instructions would be met with force.
 

The gravity-field generators aboard Kolchak’s command ship began to activate. As they came online, they would bathe the entire area in an invisible shadowy field. Designed to pull craft from hyperspace and prevent ships from escaping to the same, the entire battlefield would be cloaked in the energized field within mere minutes.

Kolchak shivered. Being this close to the generators, it always seemed like he could feel their power run like scurrying fingers within, tracing the connections of his biological body and synth-skeleton with an electrifying tingle.

 

Nothing would be allowed to escape. With fighters strafing enemy positions and defenses, interceptors practically screeched through space, chasing down and diverting any wayward craft. Those that resisted or insisted on fleeing were fired upon without hesitation. One warning, that was all they were given.

 

The fleet had engaged. 

[Nikolai Kolchak]

It was controlled chaos aboard the bridge of the Constantine. It always was in these types of deployments. Even with the added duties of fleet command, the crew worked together like a well oiled machine. Each piece in play moved as directed, a constantly swirling game of three dimensional dejarik. Comms continued to light up as pilots chattered back and forth on their assigned channels, onboard crews coordinated as needed, larger craft worked together seamlessly, ground forces were deployed and real time intelligence was updated.

 

Standing at the center of it all, letting it wash over him, Imperial Vice Admiral of Naval Intelligence Nikolai Kolchak stood. He took it all in. His crews flurried with machined precision on every side and even out of sight. The fleet commander did not need to move, to bark orders at every little thing. He had his place. His men had theirs. They knew them and adhered to them. Such was the way of true Imperial might. 
 

Kolchak’s one biologic eye remained fixed on the multidimensional battle display before him; his cybernetic eye scanned the readout before him, converting the data into knowledge. Seven different ships had made the jump to hyperspace before the gravity wells came to fruition. They were logged for future reference, follow up, and bounties. For now, the target remained the same, the securing of Outer Heaven.

______________________
 

Elsewhere aboard the bridge of the Constantine, a directing officer paused to scratch his head. The sight transmitted from the Talons was an interesting one. Not the power core or the personnel, those seemed standard enough for an unregulated non-Imperial disaster; it was the control panel. A hodge-podge of pieces cobbled together from different generations  of technology and at least four completely different technological systems. The presence of a Republic era fire corps suppressant key was one of the few recognizable pieces to Talon Command.

______________________

 

On the surface, columns of troops advanced forward. Urban warfare mixed with the dangers of a vacuum beyond the void; it was something that had been trained for. Buildings were cleared, sectors taken over, and defensive positions overrun with relative ease. It took less than 20 minutes for armored cavalry to come into play. Scout walkers, hover tanks, and speeder bikes soon were reinforcing infantry and securing forward waypoints as they closed on distant station defenses. Gangs and mercenaries presented the greatest challenges, aside from sealed reinforced doors and structures. Whereas local resistance was organized at points, the sheer chaos of a complete full-station  assault was overwhelming in it’s entirety.

 

As pockets of resistance were located, the simple tried-but-true theory of greater firepower was employed with dazzlingly explosive effect. 

______________________

 

“Constantine - Talon Leader. A company of scout armor is closing on your position. Once secured, surface command has tasked naval engineers to your position. Arrival time: 7 minutes. Over.”

______________________

 

Several Interceptors moved to cut off the escaping vessel. The broadcast medical business identity sparked a moment of confusion as pilots relayed the interesting change of events back to  the Phalanx. They still had their orders. They were all seasoned pilots and understood the deceptions of piracy. So even as they awaited specifics regarding their quarry, they relayed commands to divert and return to the quarantine area. Continued refusal was met with warning blasts until the ship leapt to hyperspace. Czerka would hear about this when the dust settled. 

______________________

 

“Constantine - Imperial Asset One and Two, Imperial Knight Leader. Be advised,  forces are in route to your position but are delayed. Hold your own and secure the power core for that area without delay.”

______________________

 

The corvettes and frigate began to fan out against the backdrop of the Star Destroyer Damascus and the cruisers Constantine and Phalanx. Still, they remained at the furthest difference from the station’s outstretched defenses, taking care to absorb the longest blasts and shoot down any wayward shots. Swarms of fighters streaked through space and overhead of the station pursuing craft that were attempting to escape. Some were successfully herded into the designated quarantine area, others erupted in plumes of flame as they sought to evade the rule of law. Each plume that erupted on Kolchak’s screen elicited a slight shake of the Vice Admiral’s head. Such a waste. Lives, ships, all of it gone in a flash. Such a waste. With the interdiction field in place, escape was highly unlikely for any other degenerates seeking to run from their lifetimes of wrongs.

[Nikolai Kolchak]

The fleet maintained it’s distance as it continued to launch salvos at maximum range towards the station’s defenses. Even now, they were taking some fire as the same defenses retorted in fiery crescendos that peppered the sky. Their shields held. From here, their full power could not be felt, only imagined by those who knew what could be.
 

Packs of fighters moved as one as they streaked through the sky. Nothing escaped their screaming intercept. Pirate and trader, criminal and lawful entrepreneur alike were chased down by packs of howlrunner-minded assault craft, herding them or destroying them if they chose to not submit. The net of interdiction made sure that no one slipped away before they could be targeted by the packs of deft TIE Interceptors and Fighters.

 

Through it all, Kolchak watched, his right fist held firmly in his left in the small of his back. Reports and diagnostics scrolled through his cybernetic eye as live feeds played across the dimensional display and view screens about the bridge. All around, the chatter of battlefield command filled the room with the dull din of war. Voices were calm and calculated, decisions made with precision and calculation. Emotion had no place here. This was war, a dance of ancient calculations brought to life against a backdrop of stars. In his chest, the Intelligence man felt a sense of pride. The day would be theirs. 

_______________
 

 On the station, in the trenches of dirt and grit, soldiers, knights and pawns, moved as directed. They too were each a part of the intricate and preordained dance that Kolchak commanded.  These warriors went where the were ordered, the full force of their creative battlefield mindsets dedicated to securing their objectives, minimizing damage and loss of life and securing objectives with unmatched implementation and dedication. 
 

Columns of walkers bore down on entrenched gang and guerilla hideouts routing the enemy again and again until their will to fight was broken or their defenses destroyed. Hoover tanks brought planetary defenses down, enemy projectors and guns falling silent beneath their intense burning rays. Naval marines and Stormtroopers pierced the veil of inner darknesses within this refuge of anarchy, driving they that lurked in the shadows into the light.

 

Scouts on speeders expertly carved their way through the maze that was this planet. Hairpin turns, stairs, hallways and alleys never designed for such craft became a display of the skill and power of true Imperial might. These were the men and women who refused to leave anyone behind; their engines echoed deafeningly about them as they moved at breakneck speed to be the first to reinforce troubled comrades and the first to stand in the gap when reports of trapped locals or hostages became known. They were some of the best of the best of the Stormtrooper Corps and they knew it. Their swagger translated seamlessly to their skills in combat as they plucked life from the gnashing jaws of death. Those who were losing power could not bear it and they scrambled to hold onto whatever dregs of power they felt they had, forcing their will on those they felt beneath them. Even unto death. These scouts were skilled combatants with hair-trigger reflexes. Nothing would stand in their way. Nothing would stop them. When others felt hopeless, they carried hope into the blackness of the enemy’s heart.

_______________

 

And so the orders of the scouts responding to assist the Talons were updated. The urgency relayed to those responding until they were close enough to establish radio contact directly with the Talons. “Talon Leader, out arrival is imminent. Requesting permission for explosive breaching. KSB four sixty-three out.”

_______________

 

And so Outer Heaven was beginning to fall beneath the expanding forces of the rightful Empress. All that remained was the disabling of the remaining planetary defenses, by air, ground, and infiltration. Then would the full force of the Imperial hammer be brought to bear upon a ‘world’; a world already withering beneath the first waves of the Empress’ will.

 

[Nikolai Kolchak]

It did not take long for Imperial troops to enter the base. Making their way to the Talons and scouts, they immediately set about trying to decipher, and even more so, disable and dismantle the helter-skeltered concoction that made up the power core and it’s control panel.

 

After ensuring that the injured members of all teams were cared for, and Imperial Marines were securing the area about them, the lead scot trooper offered Captain Bryce and her Talons a brisk salute. “We’ll be off then ma’am. Sounds like there is a bit of a frackas in Sector Seven that could use an immediate response. There’ll be a few bikes outside yet if you need them, just make sure you return them when you are done.” The cool voice advised before spinning on her heel, with a few brisk hand motions, and leading their detachment out the same ways they had entered. Moments later, the roar of the speeder bikes rattled the walls and faded off into the distant din of the siege beyond.

 

“Now let us see about this Outer Rim level of Jawa engineering” grunted an engineer as he hooked a rather intricate looking contraption into a tangle of wires falling from the back of the control panel. He only shook his head as the diagnostics began to flit across his view screen. With an audible sigh he waived over one of his fellow engineers. “Amazing the whole place didn’t go ain’t it?” 
 

“Oye! Gonna get dark in Five!” the mechanically minded soldier held up a handful of fingers and began to drop them one at a time in a countdown. When he hit three the generator shut down, the sudden lack of mechanical sounds clunking to an uncomfortable stillness.

__________________________________
 

Elsewhere, Imperial Marines, Stormtroopers, and other Imperial

forces continued to fight, pressing forward against the nonnative defense forces of Outer Heaven. There were still areas of fighting and hold outs of different gangs and cartels began to merge and resist together, putting aside old differences in the face of the onslaught. Bit by bit, the station fell to Imperial control. All the while, the strongholds of those that fought back grew in desperation and, at times, numbers.

__________________________________
 

“Shut the core down.” came the relayed order to Fera, and by the droid, Ruin and Lok. The added, “Not permanently” was almost an afterthought, but one command felt needed to be clarified lest they permanently dismantle the power core. 
 

Once that was done, the fleet could begin their final approach. The shutdown of several key power points and relays had caused a catastrophic failure in the station’s defensive measures, not to mention other key aspects that included lights, heat, gravity, and several life support facilities across a wide swath of the station. The timer had started and time was now of the essence.

__________________________________

As the fleet began to close on the defense-light station, orders were broadcast across all Imperial combat channels instructing ground and aerial assets to paint targets for aerial bombardment. They would be surgical. They would not rain wonton destruction down from above; yet no more Imperial lives would be risked or lost than absolutely necessary.

 

And so as targets were indicated, turbolaser fire from above began to scorch enemy strongholds, chokepoints, and defensive positions. The guns pounding into the surface and missiles boring deep when needed before detonating within the midst of the enemy.

__________________________________
 

The capture of Outer Haven was not yet over, but the tidal surge of Imperial might was now reaching it’s crescendo as exponentially more of the station was brought under control. It would only be a matter of an hour before the entire surface was contained. Deep within the darkest recesses of the station, specialized teams of intelligence operatives and veteran combat soldiers were tracking those who sought to hide and hunting their secret dens and lairs. To those qualified, this presented a challenge, and any unit or operative that had distinguished themselves in battle were welcome to request reassignment once their initial sector was secured by Naval troopers.

 

Above the station, droves of fighters still  patrolled, keeping quarantined vessels in check as they sought to board and inspect them or guide them to a secure landing zone for the same. Even so, it seemed some captains refused to comply; realizing that fighting or fleeing was a death sentence several opted to maintain radio silence and not comply with commands. Even now, boarding teams were being prepared.

__________________________________
 

Making landfall, Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak strode down the landing ramp of his Lambda shuttle within a secured landing zone on the planet. A takeover like this one was odd in that there was no one or two people that could sign any sort of surrender. On a base like this, each inch had to be taken and not until the entire station was controlled would total victory be achieved. Yet it was only a matter of time and there was nonsense in waiting until then to begin bringing the station back to life under the command of the Empress. And so, as areas were swept and secured, power and life was restored and the Imperial war machine set about minimizing the damage done to those

locals who remained; showing them the good that was intended for them

in place of the lives of fear they had been forced to contend with before.

[Nikolai Kolchak]

Sector Seven: a sprawling expanse of industrial warehouses and storage facilities, a few small landing platofrms for localized transport dotted the area; but seemed relatively small for any meaningful off world transport. Any large shipments would need carted in from the more established landing zones and docking bays across the syndicated synth-world/station.

 

As the scout troopers tore into the area at breakneck speed, they were quickly joined by another unit of the same from elsewhere in the city. The sounds of gunfire echoed through the wide streets. Aside from some shells of old vehicles and the odd rusted groundbound transport, the streets were empty.

 

The two teams of scouts quickly added their versatility to the fray, attacking  without warning from unseen angles w rerouting and coming back moments later from another vector. Their sudden arrival was at least helping relieve some of the pressure on the pinned down recon team.

Radio chatter continued to request immediate backup and air support, although scans of the sector indicated a large enough gathering of life signatures that the possibilities of hostages negated bombing or precision orbital strikes. Armored cavalry were still a ways out and marine infantry were busy doing the brunt of grunt suppression and cleanup in the thicker parts of the city-station. Whoever was holed up in here had some heavy firepower and seemed unafraid to use it; and there were sure a lot of them. Any time an armed goon went down, it felt like three more took their place.

__________________________________

 

”Constantine-Any Available Units: Heavy munitions and possible hostages detected in Sector Seven, Block Twenty Three, Warehouses Two, Three and Five. Advanced Recon and Scouts are encountering heavier resistance than planned for. Any available units in the area not otherwise assigned are to divert and lend aid.”

__________________________________
 

Aboard the Constantine, Nikolai Kolchak had left the bridge, leaving command of the overall clean up of the assault to his seasoned commanders. Once the world was subdued, the difficult task of returning prosperity to it would begin. That too, would be left in the capable hands of the Imperial Navy. Reconstruction teams specially tasked and trained were even now beginning to prepare for the arduous task ahead. 

 

Kolchak and his entourage of season stormtroopers were aboard a Lambda shuttle and heading towards the secured staging area of Outer Heaven. Like a commander of yore, the Vice Admiral would take in the capture of the world personally. It was a delicate time and his history as an intelligence man within the Navy was ingrained at a cellular level. Such a time was golden for valued information to be gathered as it floated about in the chaos.

 

As they descended, the call for aid in Sector Seven was broadcast to all available units. A backwards glance from his pilot was all that the Vice Admiral needed. With a nod and a waved hand gesture, he affirmed what his men already knew; they would be going to aid. The shuttle diverted as the pilot’s chatter related their change in course. The pair of escorting Interceptors turned with the shuttle towards Sector Seven.

[Nikolai Kolchak]

The Shuttle Hollinium swept overhead, her escort of Interceptors clearing a path for the craft. Although, airspace was relatively secured, there was protocol to follow. Below reinforcements appeared to be arriving, bringing a smile to Kolchak’s steely countenance. Wherever they went, an Imperial was never truly alone. He had the Empire at his back.

 

“Sir.” The pilot called out. “The enemy is utilizing disruptors, and in large numbers it would seem.”

 

That changed things. Kolchak’s face frowned. Disruptors were such a lethal and inhumane weapon that not even the Sith allowed their usage. Mere possession of one warranted death across the majority of the galaxy. These criminals would not go quietly. The ante had been upped. Any hostages were in greater danger, if there were hostages. At this point, nobody knew if there were hostages or massed mercenaries.

 

Turning to his crew and angling his head so the ship’s crew could hear as well, the Vice Admiral spoke. “Instruct our escort to break off and lend aid to our ground forces. Strafe enemy strongholds. Alert fleet command to divert fast response azzets to our location, protocol zirty-six.”

 

Eyes widened for a moment before affirmatives and understoods were given. The men and women turned to their tasks with zeal. Protocol thirty-six, scorched earth. Prisoners were to not be taken except for very specific circumstances.

 

”And captain, remind the men, hostage w iz first priority.”

 

“Aye sir.” he answered, as he turned and keyed his comms to all units in the area, “Attention all units in Sector Seven, Intel Prime,” Kolchak’s designation, “is in play. Protocol thirty-six is authorized. Hostage rescue is your primary goal. Determine if and where any hostages may be located. Air support is inbound. Paint targets for assistance.”

 

The two interceptors peeled away from the shuttle Hollinium and rocketed forward arcing back through the air towards the fray. L-s9.3 laser cannons flared to life as asteroid destroying bolts traced firey paths of destruction along the ground at nearly supersonic speeds sending external enemy assets diving for cover or ducking back inside. The howl of twin ion engines echoed across the battlefield.

 

A block away, the shuttle Hollinium landed with much less pomp and fanfare. The landing ramp lowered and Nikolai Kolchak’s personal guard, seasoned combat veterans and intelligence assets, members of the Imperial Stormtrooper corps, descended, their weapons held at the ready as they secured the landing zone with bursts of fire. When it was secured, Nikolai Kolchak descended, deactivated energy shield in one hand and unholstered sidearm in the other. His head surveyed the scene, his  cybernetic eye taking in every detail and analyzing it. Up ahead, laser fire could be heard beyond the din of the chaos created by the strafing interceptors. 

 

“Go. Help your comrades.” He instructed. The team of troopers set off at a crouched run, their ward returning to the shuttle. The ramp closing behind him. “Get us back into air captain.”

 

The team of eight troopers entered the fray, their pinpoint accuracy lending aid to the pinned naval ground troops. The sight of Imperial Stormtroopers on the field, by itself, had the demoralizing ability ro change the morale of a battle.  “Imperial Escort Team Four is on scene. Encountering limited resistance. Ground command, where are we required?”

Edited October 22, 2021 by Nikolai Kolchak

[Nikolai Kolchak]

As the eight troopers advanced with caution, the sound of firefights and combat continued to play out around them. Between the warehouses, down devastated streets, they moved with speed, purpose, and cautious intent. Disruptors in the field meant that their armor was of little value against a direct shot. Rolling and ducking from cover to cover, the team ensured that no expanse of the ground they took was not covered by their E-11s and that the ground they passed through was not left unmonitored.

 

The street itself was quite. Too quiet given the sounds of battle in the vicinity. “Confirming Warehouse Three. Rendezvousing with Talon Team.”
 

With a sense of direction beyond suppressive aid, the eight white-clad Imperial troopers, began to move towards the end of the block, where they could turn towards Warehouse 3. Just before the end of the block, still enveloped in the shadows of the windowless buildings that pressed in on either side, where the ground became rough and uneven from the debris of the Interceptor strafing, the silence was broken. A single shot rang out and the debris one of the troopers had ducked behind vaporized. “Enemy! Twelve o’clock!” The cry came out as plasma-charged E-11s returned fire as the escort team fell into a habitually familiar scenario.  “Disruptors. Watch yourself.”

 

”Command. Escort Team Four is under fire. I.P. Is secure.” The words came across the radio waves, the voice in the other end escalated but sure.

 

Enemy fire rang out, several disruptor shots vaporizing whatever they struck. It was the limited range of the illegal weapons that would be their undoing. Forming up, two of the troopers quickly deployed the pods on their weapons, stabilizing them as they took  aim over top of their makeshift cover. Another lobbed a fragmentation grenade; an overhand toss that sent the spherical charge into the midst of the huddled enemy, driving them from cover. The remaining five troopers did as troopers do, slowly advancing, laying down a blaze of withering fire. Enemy militants dropped as the white signatures of the Empire drew attention to themselves, drawing more militants to venture from their positions to engage with whatever Imperial task force was advancing on them. 

 

“Requesting reinforcements to Escort Team Four. Look for smoke.” The same stormtrooper that had lobbed the frag now sent a canister, belching bright yellow smoke tumbling forward, bathing the alleyway in an ethereal aura as several rounds of enemy fire tore into him, a disruptor blast causing half of his chest to vanish. The man clattered to the ground, lifeless in an instant. “Man down!”

 

Overhead, the pair of Interceptors raced overhead, their cannons erupting to force roof-bound foes to cover or destruction. They moved in a  low twin ion screeching pass as they arced around to begin another run of withering fire directed towards the plumes of yellow smoke that rose between the buildings.

 

Aboard the Hollinium, Kolchak frowned, not much a difference from his usual dour expression. He listened to the comm chatter. This was going to be a test for the limited men on the ground. “How long until armor can arrive?” He inquired aloud. 
 

“Armored Transport Team Two has redirected, but it will be one-one minutes before they enter Sector Seven sir. Combat Assault Team One has redirected from the starport and are inbound as well. E.T.A. Six minutes.”

 

The TX-225 GAVr tanks, would be the first team of heavy support to arrive.  Other scouts might arrive sooner, their positioning more fluid across the surface of the station. Infantry forces were being delayed behind the armor, save for two Explosive Engineering teams and a scout sniper that were in the area and moving to rapidly deploy to assist. Overhead, a squadron of TIE fighters were screaming through the atmosphere.

 

 

((Any Imperials forces listed, or anything else you might justify in a justifiably timely manner, are free for usage by anyone in play))

Edited November 4, 2021 by Nikolai Kolchak

[Nikolai Kolchak]

The onslaught of Rebel and Imperial forces was a relentless tide that could not be ceased; even by a force as fearsome as disruptor wielding mercenaries and terrorists. If anything the sheer evilness of such a presence on the battlefield confirmed the rightness of the crusade to seize Outer Heaven.

 

As Talons, Knights, Intelligence Assets, Scouts, Troopers, and Infantry closed on the entrenched terrorist force, the end drew near. The arrival of armored Imperial walkers and hover tanks sealed their fate. Those who resisted were cut down. Entire warehouses collapsed on holed up resistances, erupting in plumes of fire and dust beneath withering firepower. Overhead, air support screamed through the synth-sky. Painted targets were vaporized beneath the earth shattering guns born upon signature twin ion engines.

 

Across the station, Imperial forces triumphed by combinations of strength of will, superior tactics, and firepower. Within, secret agents and suppressive teams drove the roaches from the shadows by light and flame until no where to hide was left. Those who resisted, died. Those who surrendered were taken prisoner and quickly taken to the surface for transport to a summoned prison barge for sorting, charging, and rehoming. Innocents were offered homes elsewhere. Those who wished to remain would be allowed to do so with Imperial support; but they would know this place was now under the governance of the true Empire. Such a haven for crime would be resettled and repurposed, a home for military retrofitting, training, and administration. 
 

The darkness of oppression faded with the dawn of an Imperial dawn.
 

The chaos was over and even now, the long task of restoring order and prosperity was beginning.

 

_____________________

Stepping from his shuttle amongst the plumes of dust, Naval Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak surveyed the scene of the greatest resistance; Sector Seven. Here, even now, caches of disruptor weapons and manufacture were being secured and dismantled. Such a weapon would never see use in the field of battle if the commander of Naval Intelligence had his way. Piracy, terrorism, criminality, would splatter beneath his oiled boot heel.

 

Assembling an escort, the steeled cyborg stepped carefully through the debris until he found the eclectic team of Talons, Imperial Knight, and rogue robots. He surveyed them, worn and battered, bloodied and pained. They were a stark contrast to his crisply pressed uniform, even against the backdrop of smeared Imperial white Stormtrooper armor that stood behind him.

 

”Very vell done Capitan, you and your men are to be commended. Quick zinking zaves life.” He addressed Captain Bryce and her team with an approving nod and a shadow of a smile that tugged at the corners of his stern scarred face. “Regular forcez are zecuring remainder of vorld. Report to base camp. Get chow. Clean up. You dezerve it.”

 

Turning to Imperial Knight Skyshatter, Kolchak locked eyes with him for an uncomfortably long moment. “Knight,” he addressed the man by his title, his voice characteristically slow and heavy. “Ze Imperial Navy acknowledgez and appreciatez your aid. You Knightz, much appreciate. If you are able, your mission ztill ztands.” His one good eye wandered in the direction of Rune and Fera. “You have performed . . . admirably.” 

 

 Finally, the Vice Admiral turned to regard the duo of droids, his cybernetic eyes whirling and zooming in and out assessing damage and scanning the pair. “Robotz. You have zhown zat your programming may not be ideal for militant venture. Perhapz, ve have ozher planz for you.” He paused as his scans detected the broken barrel of a disruptors pistol jammed beneath the terror bot’s plating. “A Jedi comrade has requezted aid. Protective detail to farthest reaches; far beyond reach of Imperial law. Go to Felucia. Healer Kill you vill report to.”  Kolchak had not understood the entire context of the request, questioning the routine so called applications of the force. He was not foolish enough to discount it entirely either and if a Jedi Council woman was asking for irregular intelligence assets as a protective detail to an unknown location seen only in visions bound by darkness, or was it the dark side, then this pair of droids might do the trick. If Knight Skyshatter followed to ensure that the droids  behaved, he would also be able to see what the Jedi were up to.

 

Turning back to regard the group, the Admiral clacked his heels as he stood at attention. It was second nature to the man. “Vat queztions have you?”

 

 

[Nikolai Kolchak]

Judicial officers had set up a streamlined process by which to process the scores of prisoners and contraband captured during the taking of Outer Heaven.
 

Many of those caught were found to have planetary, Imperial, or even galactic warrants for their arrest, detention, or even execution. These were the easiest to deal with as the prisoners were sorted and arrangements made to return them to their respected enquiring jurisdictions.  The unknown, unidentifiable, and unwarranted were a different matter entirely. Judicial officers poured over field reports, shipping dockets, security recordings, and dozens of identifying documents from across the galaxy all trying to process who and what they were dealing with. Those with criminal ties beyond ‘existence within proximity of known criminal activity’ were detained for further investigation. Anyone with criminal enterprises, affiliations, or found to have been actively engaged in anything above minor criminal activity due to ‘existing within proximity of known criminal activity’ or for ‘means of survival’ were quickly turned over to what remained of the Imperial Bureau of Prisons. They would be transported off world to be dealt with accordingly. Those who were found to not be actively engaged in open criminal activity were processed, issued Imperial identifications and released back to their homes; should they show cause as to why this was not in their best interest, they were sorted to the Naval Department of Rehoming with refugee status to be resettled within Imperial strongholds elsewhere.

 

Stolen contraband and ships were found aplenty. Much had been regarded as lost due to everything from catastrophic hyperspace accidents to piracy. Insurance payouts had been made. What was needed for the Imperial war effort was seized under Imperial laws for asset forfeiture. Other items were stored for return to their owners, should they respond to correspondence within the legally allowed timeframe. Pirated ships were identified and their rightful identities restored. Any found in possession of stolen shipments or vessels without proof of assumed legal purchase were charged with piracy under Imperial law and slated for execution. Those with reputed proof were detained for further review.

 

Prisoners with intelligence value were discretely funneled to shadowy naval safe houses. There, they were encouraged to cooperate, yielding what information and resources they had or disappearing into the darkness. New assets were developed and within the span of a week, they were deployed back into the field as eyes and ears for the Imperial Navy. It could be a cushy gig, for the risk that was being had; but the stakes were high and the operatives walking a razor’s edge.

 

Elsewhere across the world-station, Imperial forces, having secured the last remnants of resistance, moved to take command of the station’s defensive bastions and bring them back online. Power was restored as Imperial Engineers worked to undo the damage wrought on the world during the siege. Within days, the world-station was powered again and with supplies from the Fleet, shops and businesses reopened, Imperial credits the newfound currency of choice. The only exchanges allowed being those under the watchful  eye of Naval Intelligence officers.

 

A week later, craft with some of the sturdiest, hard-working refugees, from other displaced worlds, under Imperial and Rebel protection, arrived at Outer Heaven. Those homes which were vacated were given over to them as the Empire-In-Exile set them up with a new living. Shops, careers, food, homes, and livelihoods were established, all complete with Imperial documents and dedicated to the advancement of the Imperial Navy. The entire world was slowly turning from a criminal haven to a station-wide Naval support station complete with repairs, restocking, and even entertainment; Imperial approved of course, mostly. Slowly production of TIE-type craft began to show results as airfields began to boast their own defense forces by which to supplement any needed naval forces in the area.

 

Patrols of Imperial Marines kept order in the streets, supplemented by both light and heavy support craft. Order became the order by which the world began to operate and with careful consideration and constant supervision, the norm by which Outer Heaven would come to be known; a fortitude Imperial garrison for refugees and soldiers alike to stand against the oppressions of the Sith and the chaos of anarchist thinking.