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Anaxes - Military Base


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Anaxes

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Core Worlds

Sector: Azure sector

System: Axum system

Orbital Position: 4

Moons: 1 (Azuria)

Grid Coordinates: M-12

 

Physical Information

Class: Terrestrial

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable

Primary Terrain: Plains, Forests, Mountains, Cities, training grounds, Azuria Proving Grounds.

Points of Interest: Navy War College, Anaxes Citadel, Pols Anaxes (Spaceport).

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: Humans

Immigrated Species: Few alien cultures

Primary Language(s): Basic

Faction Affiliation: The Galactic Alliance and the Imperial Remnant

 

Defense Rating: N/A

 

History: Anaxes has always been considered the “Defender of the Core” and was the last bastion and fortress world before Coruscant on the Perlemian Trade Route. Heavily fortified since thousands of years before the battle of Yavin, it was natural for such a world to evolve into the leading military and naval training system in the Old Republic. Though most ground based military were trained at the Caridian Academy, the Naval War College of Anaxes became the leading supplier of superior officers to the Republic military. Having changed hands several times throughout the galactic civil war, the War College is now used primarily by the Galactic Alliance, and with the signing of the Zinthos-E’lann treaty, the Imperial Remnant will now be training alongside the Galactic Alliance at the college. Bringing the next generation of fleet officers of both the GA and Remnant together. Anaxes is also the location of the Joint Military Command, where joint operations between the Remnant and GA are planned and executed.

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  • 1 year later...

 

”Where the hell is the fleet?”

”Why are we alone out here?”

”Oh Force, we’re all going to die!”

”What happened to the [/i]Montressor? She was there when we went into hyperspace!”

”Sweet mother of mercy, is that the Garibaldi?”

Such was the state of the comms of the civilian ships that the Galactic Alliance fleet had been tasked to escort to Anaxes. Not quite up to the specifications of the advanced navigational computers of the military capital ships, two of the smaller ships had actually attempted to revert to realspace on top of each other. Their hulls complained at the violation of their personal space with predictable and catastrophic results for the passengers inside. No more than three minutes after the menagerie of freighters and passenger liners had reverted from hyperspace in a state of disarray, their escorts dropped into realspace in multiple positions in the system to form a perimeter around the seething school of refugees.

The Steadfast’s starfighter patrol, already dispatched to police the squadron’s airspace, was forced to fire across the cockpits of three of the freighters to encourage their crews await orders from Anaxes’ airspace operators, rather than make a solitary dash for any traffic corridor that they could force their craft into.

On the bridge of the MC90 Cruiser, Slaughter pinched his nose and scowled. His leg had been bandaged and constrained in a splint, but he was at least able to limp his way across the bridge with the assistance of a cane. “Dispatch rescue shuttles to the Montressor and Garibaldi,” he sighed, knowing what was going to be the result of a collision during reversion to realspace. “And have Jern-Cresh send repair crews for our ships. I’ll be in my office.”

Tremors of pain jolting up his leg with every other step, he managed to limp his way to his office without assistance and activated the holocomm installed in his desk. The Admiral was going to do something that he had hoped would never be required of him.

He was going to ask for the assistance of the Jedi Order.
 

((Jern-Cresh: Mangled acronym for Joint Military Command.))

Edited by ObliviousKnight

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The hyperlanes above Anaxes, among the fleeing refugees came a dozen probe droids. The refugees of Coruscant’s fall were fleeing the uproar of moonfall and the conquest of Kad Ha’Rangir, but they would not be safe, even in the great fortress world of Anaxes.

Anaxes, like it’s sister worlds Borleias and Chandrila would be scouted by a dozen probe droids. It was their fate as the bastion worlds of the Hydian Way. Whether or not they were detected would not matter. They were there to send a message to the rotting Galactic Alliance: The Mandalorians were coming, and they would bring lawlessnes and fire with them. 

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To the Death...

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  • 4 weeks later...

 

“I think that we’ve entertained our guests long enough. Cap, dispose of the trash.” The shipyards of Anaxes grew closer, and shuttles and barges were beginning to ferry supplies from the fortress world to the Alliance fleet. Chrysaetos was already in dry dock, a swarm of vacuum-suited techs and other craft working feverishly to restore the cruiser’s sublight engines. The Steadfast would be next in the repair yards and would require a full third of her turbolaser batteries to be repaired or replaced.

From the entire Galactic Alliance fleet, a small armada of shuttles, gunships, and freighters landed around Anaxes’ military installations and her orbital shipyards. Having expected to serve as a rally point for both the Imperial Remnant and the Galactic Alliance, the world had built up a tremendous reserve of munitions and materiel. With the Mandalorians having taken Coruscant and bearing down on at least three other Core Worlds, it seemed a shame in Admiral Slaughter’s eyes to leave so much equipment to be taken by the invaders.

Any equipment that was not secured was requisitioned by the Galactic Alliance. As for the rest, it was seized by Alliance marines and hauled away. No doubt that treating Anaxes like an enemy supply depot to plunder would cause a minor diplomatic uproar, but Slaughter had no intention to remain at the planet for any longer than necessary.

____

An obsolete model that was pinging away with active sensors, the probe droids that were dispatched to Anaxes were easy for the fleet to detect and the A-Wings of Hawkbat and Riposte Squadrons were diverted to intercept them. They fell upon the craft with aplomb, blazing away through empty space with laser fire.

One of the A-Wing pilots, a Flight Lieutenant Adrianne Zinthos (no relation to the Imperial Head of State), plinking away at one of the little spacecraft with carefully aimed fire, was barked at by her squadron commander to “stop treating it like target practice and vape the blasted things.”

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Anaxes... it was a world that Mythos had never held the pleasure of visiting, most of his time spent between Coruscant and the Unknown and Outer Regions during his time as an Alliance Marshal. But that was years ago. Now he sat here aboard Von Howlster's Reach, gazing upon the fortress world after making his decision to return to the Core, he knew he stood on the precipice of a new era, an era that would require those of his caliber if it was to survive the oncoming onslaught. With a grimace of his snarl, the Shistavanen grabbed his comm.

"This is former Alliance Marshal Mythos Von Howlster, requesting an audience with whomever is in command.." He spoke, his voice gurgled and raspy from the age old scar that crossed his neck. His ears coiled backwards as his clawed hand reached forward and he transmitted his identification. "Submitting encrypted Transponder Codes now, Badge Number 6266-008."

As he awaited a response, Mythos' gaze shifted out the viewport in Coruscant's direction, the glow of the fire in his eyes soon being covered by the mask he adorns as he grew ready. He couldn't believe the bold audacity of the Mandalorian Crusaders. They came into his home, ransacked the place, and now believed they could get away with it. Not as long as he drew breath. It was time for retribution, and he was the being that would deliver it. All the GA would have to do at this point was but to ask.

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The aerospace traffic controller of the Steadfast eventually responded; the ship was unknown to the Galactic Alliance, but the transponder codes were genuine for an officer several years ago.

”Land at Hangar Three and report to the bridge.” A teasing note entered the traffic controller’s voice. “You do still know your way around an MC90, right?”

____

Construction requisitions, panicky Senators, a thoroughly irritated loading foreman on the planet surface; these were all the mundane details that Slaughter would have preferred to leave to his executive officer or a staff officer, but the majority of the fleet’s bureaucracy had been forced to evacuate from Hesperidium and was still en route to the shipyards of Bilbringi. Some of these decisions were necessarily passed directly to the office of the Admiral. The hours continued and the drone of wheedling politicians was eventually replaced by the roar of plasma cutters and crash of micro-explosives; Slaughter’s vision began to cloud over and he found himself tempted to throw a datapad against the wall and smash it under his boot.

”Admiral to the bridge. Admiral to the bridge,” chirped a yeoman’s voice over a comlink, saving the report of abandoned munitions from its fate.

When Mythos arrived to the bridge, he would find it in a state of organized mayhem; a miniature magcon field had been deployed over a quarter of its canopy and engineers floating in the void just beyond, removing a cracked panel of transparisteel. A Twi’lek approached the Admiral and muttered a word into the stocky human’s ear; the man looked up from his datapad and gazed intently at the Shistavanen.

“Von Howlster. Admiral Slaughter.” The exiled Coruscanti had never met the Shistavanen, but he’d skimmed through his personnel file for a minute and gotten a measure of the paramilitary’s history. “I hope that the events of the last few days have brought you out of retirement.”
 

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Mythos grimaced beneath the duraplate mask he adorned as the Traffic Officer's voice teased, the aging Shistavanen chuckling beneath it as he grabbed the comm unit and gave a simple yet snide rebuttal. "Son, first time I walked the corridors of a MC90, you were likely still suckling your mother's teat." He chuckled once more through his cuspids before hanging it up and turning Von Howlster's Reach toward the Steadfast. As his gaze fell upon the war torn vessel, his suspicions were confirmed. It held the many scars of its age and stories, most notable the burns of the Mandalorian mounts, and his eyes only burnt with more fuel within the fire. Landing in Hangar Three, Mythos disembarked, placing his shield and folder upon his duster as he made his way to the bridge.

When he arrived, Mythos removed his mask as he looked on in a mixture of sorrow and rage. He placed a clawed hand upon one of its framing beams, closing his eyes briefly as if apologizing to the older ship for its defeat, before turning toward the magcon and Admiral Slaughter. As the towering beast made his approach, his face revealing a singular across his snout and one large one across his throat, he gave a formal but fumbling salute as the Admiral spoke. "Admiral Slaughter you say?" The Shistavanen jested briefly, his voice gnarled and congested as he sat his mask aside. "Fitting."

His face turned to a serious note as he stood there, his breathing deep for such a large form, the Shistavanen standing over two meters tall, and his rage was self evident even as his reached a paw up and wiped the drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "These Mandalorians... They come to the heart of a Galaxy I swore to protect, playing conquerors of a planet struck yet again by the hands of powerful Sith, and think they can get away with it under the guise of a holy crusade?" Mythos' tongue licks his chops briefly. "You'd be damned right that I would come out of retirement for that. This was my beat, my turf, and they've declared war upon it. Retribution is but nigh.

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  • 2 weeks later...

“Probably there’s a ceremony for reactivating your commission, but we don't have time. Welcome back to the Alliance, Marshal. On me.” Without another word, the stocky human strode from the clatter and roar that had turned the customary order and routine of the command center into the organized mayhem of a construction site. He didn’t want some civilian contractors to overhear what needed to be said.

His ready room was only ten seconds from the bridge. He slumped into his desk with an exhausted thud.

“I need to be blunt, we’re hurting. We gave as good as we got when the Mandos hit Triple Zero, but everyone knows that we can’t survive a loss like that easily.” Slaughter thumbed a control on his desk and the atmosphere in the cabin grew stifling with the activation of the room’s privacy field generator. For the moment, the only communication devices that be of any use would be those hardwired into its circuitry, and even an outside eavesdropper would find it difficult to listen in on their muffled conversation. “We’re going to need to delay our satisfaction if we’re going to survive the next month. Your work with the marshals--you ever have to go undercover? Infiltrate a criminal organization to gather intel or get a source out?”

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"Probably for the best... Mythos snarled in a raspy voice as he took in behind Slaughter, his gaze shifting as his towering form began to fall into old habits. "I've never been one for formalities. Grunt work is my specialty."

As the the privacy field generator powered up, Mythos remained standing. Mostly due to the fact that most furniture rarely held up to his weight and stature, but also to the fact the Mythos wasn't much for sitting. He was Shistavanen. He was a warrior, a hunter, and it was his nature. As Slaughter spoke, Mythos could see and smell the duress within him, only amplifying the seriousness of the threat in which he spoke of. He could sense that Slaughter knew first hand of which he spoke, the smell of his wound still fresh.

"I suspect it was one of the Mandalorians that gave you the wound on your leg?" His raspy voice came across slightly concerned for the admiral, but more curiosity than anything. Raising his head to reveal the scar that ran across his voice box, Mythos continued as his gaze returned to Slaughter. "The first of many I recieved, a small undercover op I undertook portraying what my species are known for, a hunter. What do you have in mind Admiral?"

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“Like I said, delayed satisfaction.” Slaughter glanced at the fourth wall, and for a brief moment, felt as though he had been in his office, speaking to the same person--a wholly unsettling sense of deja vu. A Force-Sensitive--or even a more thoughtful character--might have experienced a mind-melting episode of existential terror and gone running off into the corridors of the Steadfast, but Bruce Slaughter was merely a grunt who had received a field promotion to a station perhaps beyond his talents. He merely glanced at the bacta patch on his leg and tossed back a glass of lukewarm water that had been lingering on his desk since Coruscant.

“We’re going after the Imperial Head of State: Raven Zinthos. She was taken captive by Black Sun and their Sith allies after their conquest of Kuat.” A holoprojector in his desk flashed images of the IMperial Head of State: a surprisingly small woman for one wielding the awesome power of her office. With her enlarged eyes, she appeared almost as an overgrown child. Next, the image of a plinth-like space station. “Unfortunately, she’s being held in a space station that we know relatively little about: Dark Sun. Some significant fortifications, but nothing the fleet can’t handle--the problem is that it’s primarily civilian--headquarters for multiple megacorporations, arms manufacturers, banking syndicates, the like.

“It’s obviously a trap. I’d prefer to get her out without committing the fleet, but even then I’d like to have someone on the inside, someone comfortable infiltrating a criminal organization. You have three critical objectives for this mission: we need information regarding the location of Zinthos within the station; we need to know if the Sith or Black Sun fleets are nearby; and if and only if opportune, to rescue Zinthos.”


____


The transmission from Borleias having been received from their facilities on that world, several of the better-repaired ships orbiting Anaxes broke orbit and vectored for a hyperspace route towards deep space.

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Mythos grimaced when Slaughter mentioned the Imperials and their head, his disdained taste for them stemming back decades. And the GA's formal Alliance with them had been like pouring salt into old wounds for the Marshal. But politics and formalities had never been the Shistavanen's strongest suits. He was a being of orders and actions, nothing more, nothing less. That was just his way.

"Forgive the lackluster, Admiral." Mythos spoke, his raspy tone little more than a growling whisper as he watched the images before him unfold. "I'm not too keen on Imperials, or even those carrying the name. Too much bad blood befalling Coruscant and the Core Worlds under their name even if these prove themselves to have been different."

Mythos brought his clawed paw up his mane, open handily stroking the long locks of fur that would have been a beard had he'd been born human. Despite his dislike for the Imps, he knew what Slaughter was asking of him with understanding. With the Sith Empire on one side, and the Mandalorians on the other, the GA needed whatever allies they could afford at the moment. As stubborn as he was, Mythos also lived by an unspoken creed among the Marshals, a simple but truthful one: The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend, for a time at least.

"But your right. We of the Galactic Alliance cannot afford to forsake any hand we need to keep close to the vest. Consider me aboard. What's my cover?"

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The flight of TIE defenders arrived beside the vectoring Galactic Alliance fleet transmittign a friendly Templar IFF. These were the most elite special forces unit in the Imperial Remnant’s Navy. They had fought and killed Sith on Kuat, and were now joining the fight for returning their empress. Their Commander, Beth, signalled their intention to dock on the capital ship to preserve fuel and coordinate with the GA military strike teams.

“Prepare for harnessless landing on the flight deck boys and girls. No racks like on the Star Destroyers.”


Her voice was a bit hoarse but she had recovered mostly from the wounds she had suffered on Kuat. When the Templars with their red painted solar panel’s had received permission from the GA, they landed on board the Steadfast.

Andromina

Rebel Alliance Fleet Command - Lieutenant

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“You’re working with Aliastra Interstellar, an arms designer negotiating manufacturing contracts and conducting trials for a new carbine, codenamed ‘Borcatu.’” Slaughter’s stubby fingers activated a miniature holoprojector and passed it across the desk. The image was that of a boxy, inelegant blaster carbine--clearly a model that was optimized for ease of manufacture. “There are several arms manufacturers on Dark Sun and it will provide you with an excuse to carry a live weapon while on board.”

His lips thinned. “Yes, it’s real. Please don’t let the prints fall into Black Sun’s hands. We’ve briefed several intel operatives on the mission and your weapons--all excellent men, you will have your pick. You’ll have a clean transport--no connection to the Galactic Alliance or Imperials. But work as quickly as practical. The fleet will be going in regardless of your success, and soon.

“The Galactic Alliance needs the Imperials operational again, or… we’re looking at something like the old days of the Rebellion. Any questions?”


____

The Steadfast’s/ air traffic control responded within a few seconds of Andromina’s hail. “Permission to land granted, follow the beacons to hangar two. The Admiral will want to see you. Proceed as quickly as possible, we’re scheduled to push off in five.”

Indeed, several ships of the Galactic Alliance fleet had completed their repairs and were vectored towards a hyperspace route, and the flashing lights drifting away from the MC90’s hull indicated the completion of repairs.


((Steadfast, Fidelity, Phalanx, Kalidor, Surprise, Audacity, and Incisor take off and prepare to leave.))
 

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What appeared to be a semblance of a smile cross the Shistavanen's face as he took in a moment to remember the information, slipping the plans into his pocket, and nodding to the Admiral. Unpinning the badge that adorn his duster, Mythos slide it across the desk toward Slaughter. "Understood. Take care of the for me, won't you?"

Mythos chuckled as he turned to depart, his gaze shifting back only momentarily before he stepped out the room. "I only need one. Your best. Have them meet me in the hangar in fifteen. And with that, and a small stoop as he stepped outside, Mythos was gone.

Fifteen minutes later, Mythos stood near the ship that the Admiral had prepared and stood waiting for his newly appointed companion, dressed in all his gear and his mask once again adorned. If they were going to make this work, they were going to have to act fast, and Mythos held little patience.

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The Imperial special operations pilots ran briskly from their cockpits, each holding a small luggage bag with civvie clothes. But for now they were all dressed immaculately in the Imperial Remnant white dress uniform, with the red bloodstripes and shoulder boards of the special operations unit. Led by their lieutenant, they crisply saluted the deck officer in charge of the flight deck and marched into the turbolift.

Which carried them to the bridge, upon exiting the lift, Beth and her crew saluted the Admiral of the Fleet. Their eyes looking from the wolflike companion and the admiral himself. The fact that the 12 person team was entirely human was beginning to stick out like a sore thumb. But Raven's adjustment's to recruitment hadn't filtered up to the elite forces yet. So you could say the remnant was trying to get better.

“Imperial Templars reporting for action sir, where will you have us?”

Andromina

Rebel Alliance Fleet Command - Lieutenant

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((Sorry, should have clarified in last post that the NPC is yours to flesh out.))

Knowing of Black Sun’s retrograde attitudes towards nonhuman species (most notably its dabbling in the slave trade), most of the officers briefed on the attempt to rescue Head of State Zinthos were human. He would join the Shistavenan in the YT-2000 freighter that had been scrubbed for the mission.

As for Slaughter, he limped towards the bridge to find that the breached canopy had been repaired and the tools that had been scattered by Anaxes’ repair crews had finally been cleaned up, just in time to receive Andromina and her squad of commandos. Uniformly human, still clad in their black TIE pilots uniforms, they were a stark contrast to the medley of species on the bridge of the Steadfast.

“I assume that you’ve been briefed. We will have your Head of State back and I’m prepared to shoot our way through Dark Sun to take her back. We’ll begin by establishing a blockade around the station and give them one chance to hand her over. If not… you’ll be in the first wave. I imagine that the Sunners don’t expect we have the audacity for this kind of attack. They’ll be in for a surprise.”

Feeling that his boast had probably fallen on unappreciative ears, Slaughter paused for a pair of awkward seconds and continued. “Sorry. You’ll be assigned to the Surprise as part of the first wave. She and Audacity will make a breach for your Templars and our marines to assault. We launch for the rendezvous point in…”

At that point, one of the hangar deck crew spoke into her station and a Coruscanti voice boomed over the ship’s intercom. “Jump to hyperspace in five minutes. Secure all stations.”
 

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  • 3 weeks later...

A comlink on Slaughter’s desk chimed an urgent report. Holding up a hand to excuse himself, Slaughter listened closely, his wide face turning ruddy with ugly blotches as the communique continued. Finally, with great care, the Admiral punched in commands to summon Marshal Howlster back to his office.

“We’ve had a change of plans. The Jedi have already begun their attack.” Slaughter close his eyes and pressed his fingers into them until stars appeared in his sight. He sighed. “Marshall, your infiltration will obviously now be impossible, but I’ll need you to lead any boarding actions. Templar, our goal will be to achieve domination of Dark Sun’s perimeter--knock out any defenses, rout any fleet that might be stationed. At that point we demand your Head of State back. We board and start breaking things if she isn’t immediately returned. I’ll have a surprise for the Sunners if they think that we’ll be delayed. Any questions?”

A tremor ran under the floor at that very moment, indicating that the Steadfast had entered hyperspace, along with the rest of the armada.

((Ships leaving Anaxes: Steadfast, Fidelity, Phalanx, Kalidor, Surprise, Audacity, Incisor, Crescelle.))

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A brief voice/text transmission arrived for Beth Andromina on civilian channels. Its sender had no idea if the intended recipient would ever see it, or if it would be swallowed up by hyperspace travel or edited to the point of incomprehensibility by the Imperial Remnant's censors.

“Beth,

I’m still alive. Hopefully you can say the same. The Sith haven’t gone after Carida yet…. but… I have a personal errand that requires me to go to Coruscant. No, I haven’t completely lost my marbles… well, maybe. I left some information there that might be critically important, like ‘might get a few million people killed if it falls into the wrong hands’ sort of important. I’ll be able to sleep a lot better if I know that it’s destroyed or off Corrie. If you hear from me again, I’ve probably succeeded and I’m on my way to safety. If not… well…......." There was a long pause. "At least I tried.

I know that I can’t ask you to be safe. That’s the life. So shoot straight--and shoot first.

Soph.”

Edited by ObliviousKnight
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Just as Mythos began to climb the ramp of the ship, he turned toward his human companion as his comm link lit up, Slaughter's voice coming across loud and clear. If he had yet to adorn his mask, the poor son would have seen a fierce face claim the Shistavanen's usual bland demeanor. Clinching his fist tight enough to impress his frustration into the ramp's metallic hydrolic arm, his teeth gritted just as tightly, Mythos began his trek back toward Slaughter.

"Those blasted sorcerers will be the death of this Galaxy yet!" Mythos scorned in return, his tone raspy and harsher than usual as the frustration was found snarling out in spurts. "They preach peace and restraint, yet are the first to ignite their tiny laser blades. Hmph."

Despite the shift in the hanger as the ships emerged into hyperspace, Mythos's pace never wavered. Within a few minutes he had returned and was present before Slaughter once more. "I'll make sure to do the wrecking myself when we arrive."

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  • 8 months later...

As the Montjoie exited hyperspace, the sounds of her klaxons resonated throughout her entire form. Fighters began lift off, forming defensive screens around her, bombers soon following suit. Mythos stood on the holochamber, the Shistavanen discontent with his appointment in such a Leadership role as he faced both General Tanakka and Admiral Leadra. 

 

"Preparations for evac are at nearly sixty percent completed" Admiral Leadra spoke, the Bothan glancing a quick glare at his counterpart. "Would be fully prepped if the Army weren't so sloppy in their preparations."

 

"Why you half defrosted space monkey" General Tanakka quickly responded, his glare even more presentable of the conflict between the two Colleges. "If we didn't have the Navy at our backs constantly, perhaps we could get something done."

 

"Enough." Mythos spoke with a disgruntled sigh. "The two of you can play politics later. Right now, we need to evacuate, so get it together and have yourselves prepped by the time I reach ground." 

 

The two looked at each other and then at the massive Shistavanen eclipsing their own forms even in hologram form, bowing formally before Mythos killed the projections. This was why he preferred to work alone, to worry only of himself and the mission he was tasked with. Oh how he missed his days as a simple Marshal. But they were long gone and now he was beginning to fill the roles that the Alliance needed him to. So Anaxes would now be his mission.

 

Turning toward the competent Officers aboard at the helm as he exited the holochamber, he simply nodded and left them in charge. He would lead the evacuations personally. It was likely the only thing that would keep his simple mind sane in times like this. Stepping aboard the lift, he returned the hanger, the transports firing up with his arrival as he turned toward the Squadrons he had requested.

 

First he gazed at the strange Transdoshan(@Vox). "You're with me in Team Alpha" He spoke, his crude voice barely heard over the roaring of the surrounding engines. "But only you. Your compatriots go with him (@ISB Officer(s)) on Team Delta." With that said he turned to the squadrons officially. "I want both Imperials and Alliance members on both teams. I dont care if you dont like each other, only that we get the job done. Team Alpha will be hitting the Colleges and securing the assets in the Evac. Team Delta will be recovering the ships left over from the Galatic Alliance and ensure their return to Nar Shadaa. Am I understood?"

 

Without a word left to linger or be spoken, Mythos turned and climbed aboard the lead transport that would be headed for the surface of Anaxes. Once there, resources for manning the ships for Team Delta would be provided while Mythos and Team Alpha would recover the Staff, Cadets, Doctrines, and disable the main components of the College to ensure it would never fall into enemy hands.

 

Once everyone boarded their appropriate transports, they would depart and the mission would be fully underway, his contacts on the ground being Lieutenants McAllister and Damron. 

Edited by Mythos
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Vox nodded to his soldiers then they all stood, cocking their weapons and sliding on their helmets. He activated the HUD inside the helmet and Krexis and Varsus followed suit, they would have a radio channel privately between the three as to keep communications on their situations whether they were done with their roles. Vox ordered them to make sure every weapon was ready for combat in case there was some. The last thing he needed was to lose one or even both of his comrades, worst of all it would mean losing an extra gun and a sniper. Vox pushed the thought away as he knew second guessing wasn't much an option and would very well effect his own combat. 

 

As the man spoke, Vox became a slight tinge worried about this mission but again shoved it away. He looked over to his own men and told them they were under the second teams command for the time being. While Varsus did start to protest Krexis slapped the back of his helmet as a sign to stay silent. The chieftain climbed aboard the lead ship while the other two aboard the following, all mentally readying for the assignment and praying to their gods to keep them safe and prevailing. Vox hadn't worked alone on his entire life at least not without his kin close to him, this would be the first he'd have to work with other beings in this scenario. It was odd really, but he focused his sights and train of thought on what's to come.

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As soon as everyone was on board the lead shuttle, Team Alpha departed for the War College at Anaxes. Mythos stood near the front of the ship, his Shistavanen gaze staring out the transport toward the planet below as they entered space and left behind the Montjoie. Officially, this was his first mission in full command, and even for a Veteran like him, he could still feel the knotted stomach of a fresh welp bottling up inside him. His gaze shifted across his men, hoping that each and every one of them would return safely, that this mission would go as planned. But as a Veteran, he knew that it rarely ever did. Fixating his gaze upon @Vox, he moved away the cockpit and made his way toward the massive Trandoshan. 

 

"First time hunting alone without the pack?" He questioned with a soft tone, one Hunter to another. For Mythos, his transpired many years ago when he was but a pup, half expected to never return by his own having been the runt of the litter. But here he stood the largest of it, towering even over his own parents, as testament to how the truly strong survive. Looking up to his fellow hunter, Mythos patted his shoulder. "You will prove yourself. Do not worry."

 

And with that, Mythos turned away and stood at the rear, feeling the pull of the atmosphere upon the ship's hull as gravity took hold. These were moments Mythos treasured each time, almost religiously. He wished to be the first out when the ship settled, the first to lead the charge so that he could drag away enemy fire away from those he led, even if this mission granted none of it. The tinkling of his artificial fingers against the hilt of his blade echoed around him. And as he felt the lunge of the transport touching down, his fist was there to meet the ramp's activation.

 

And as expected, the two Lieutenants were there to greet them as he emerged. "McAllister, send your men back with the transports. Damron, send yours in the transports heading to the Fleet remnants of the Alliance that remains in orbit. We're taking them back to Nar Shadaa with us and we need them fully manned. Once that's done, we're heading out. We need to recover the Doctrines from the Library and Disable the College permanently. Understood?" 

 

Then Mythos turned to the approaching College Administrators. "General, Admiral... Report to the Montjoie and begin extractions from there. McAllister and Damron will be under my command for the remainder of this mission, and as such, I'm relying on you two to act in their stead. There's no telling how large of a window we have, so arguments are futile."

 

With that, Mythos turned to his men as well as Vox and the returning McAllister and Damron. "McAllister, you go with Vox here and take as many men as you need." His gaze met the large Trandoshan. "You take care of the setting the charges and disabling the College. Damron and I will take the remainder and recover the Doctrines. We'll meet back here in one hour for the final evac and detonation. Remember, focus only on the structure itself and whatever the enemy could use if they capture it. No collateral. Understood?"

 

(@Vox Leader of the naval cadet corps is Lieutenant Vertran McAllister. female Human. Ex imperial. Leader of the army cadet corps is Lieutenant Jen Damron. Human Female. Ex Republic.)

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As Vox stood waiting for the ship to land and open it's door he heard a sudden voice. Looking down he saw... a thing, certainly sapient as it spoke in a males tone and clad in an outfit. The Trandoshan could only think of the question though, never has he ever hunted alone as his land was always on the brink of war or constantly skirmishing with rogue clans. For those reasons hunters and scouts were to never go alone so least one of the few can return or for reinforcements. Many trials did he and his fellow class of initiates perform with some failing and many dying from hunting massive beasts the particular pack were assigned to. 

 

The most fearsome that no one ever killed was a Behemoth, a large feline-like beast sporting horns and spikes. It was the fiercest apex predator until Vox and his hunters put it down with no casualties. Due to his leadership skill and fearlessness Vox was allowed to take it's horns and teeth as trophies, he was the first to feast on it before the final trial. From that day he carried the Mark of the Beast, a necklace passed from predator to predator. However said necklace was lost in exile, left behind on the homeworld Vox and co. left. 

 

The Trandoshan nodded in response before the creature, or Mythos, said he'd have a chance to prove himself. Vox didn't doubt that, he didn't respond with any words but a simple grunt. He knew what he was capable of and never doubt his abilities, but it was the doubt of how well this mission would turn. Failure after failure Vox was responsible for the death of his kin, though he couldn't do anything to prevent it the burden of several hundred souls lied on his shoulders. This time around, the chance to prove himself was to come very soon and possibly redeem himself as a competent Chieftain... those in this case he was the soldier, a role long forgotten till now. 

 

As the ship made a loud thud and a sudden shift of it, it's doors opened and Vox followed, two people already greeted Mythos and crew. Mythos spoke giving orders for people to evacuate and certain roles for people. He then turned to his soldiers and the Trandoshan, giving him specific orders to set explosives to the structure and disable any technology within the College. With such a little window however, or however long an hour is, he was limited on time as it was. Computers weren't exactly his savvy, however explosives were... and he had an idea he kept selfishly. He was to go with this "McAllister" and troops to complete the mission. 

 

"Understood," Vox replied in Trandoshan, "It'll get done," He then turned to the McAllister and said to her with Puncture Rifle ready, "Lead the way, I'm ready to get this accomplished."

Edited by Vox

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"On me." Mythos' garbled voice pronounced as he turned and started toward the library, briefly turning to give Vox a nod. He had no worries that the Trandoshan and McAllister would complete their mission successfully. But on the other hand, his own was what worried him. These doctrines he was supposed to retrieve, he held no clue as to what they would be or how to recover them. He considered flash drives, and even brought a handful to be sure. But he wouldnt know the full scope until he got there. "Damnron, you lead the way. You know this college better than any of us here. Men, gather up a few lifts just incase we need more than flashdrives."

 

"Sir." Damron voiced, a hesitation in her voice as she stood squarely in an official salute. "Yes, Damron? You dont have to salute. Just spit it out." Mythos spoke, the large Shistavanen turning his head back toward her. "Yes sir." She quickly approached him. "The doctrines are easy to move as a whole, and even with explosives, we can't ensure complete destruction." Mythos scratched at his chin briefly the spoke. "Very well then. You heard her men. Get those lifts."

 

As the men gathered the lifts, Mythos and Damron went on ahead. It wasn't much of a trek where they had landed, just opposite the plaza, and when they entered, Mythos saw why Damron suggested as she did. These drives were state of the art, even on Imperial levels, and there was no way a handful of flashdrives could contain every byte of information stored within. As the lifts arrived, Mythos spun his hand in a circular motion, giving signals to collect the drives, before he and Damron started on their first one.

 

It would take them roughly thirty minutes to collect the drives and set charges, making sure to get every one before they began the heavy trek back. Despite the lifts aid, it was still a large load to move, and it took another fifteen just to clear the plaza. Once loaded, Mythos gave Damron and the men orders to lift off and head back to the Montjoie as he stayed behind to check on Vox and McAllister. Mythos was never one to leave before the last.

 

With fifteen minutes remaining to spare, he stayed with the last ship and awaited Vox. They would blow these charges together.

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Vox followed the team and as they entered the college the lot was quick to begin. Vox took his own set of explosives as he thought to go his seperated way, wanting to make this operation go swiftly instead of standard time. Unfortunately he had two soldiers tagging alongside but regardless if he had some more hands it'd help. As he began the Trandoshan took one of the charges and studied it for several seconds then saw how the soldiers used them. He understood it and began to set the charges on where the internal building was best supported in that sector.

 

The trio quickly applied whatever explosive until they circle around to meet the primary group as soon as charges were set, Vox began to wipe every information from every terminal he came across, the others doing the same. However the difficulty came with the main computer. In his minor teachings from Romulus and the hijacking of Storm Scurry the chieftain learned many things. Despite that, Vox had one of the more knowledgeable men reset and wipe out every information. However it was taking too long, all that info slowly erasing and they were limited on time. Short cuts, an idea Vox came up with on the shuttle.

 

The Trandoshan pushed the soldier aside and carefully took apart the interconnected row of explosive grenades used for his Puncture Rifle. Immediately he set the explosives throughout the entire room and smashed the primary computer to where it was still deleting and internal systems were indefinitely working. He set the last charge into the working of the machine, the grenade making sure that once the party began it bursted as well to take care of anything surviving. Repeated the process with the rest of the computers in the room, Vox finished he and the soldiers immediately left the complex. 

 

Running, the group exited the building with about fifteen minutes to spare. This wasn't difficult and if given more time Vox wouldn't have been so hasty with the process that main computer went through. By now it was surely done but if not every drives, memory bank, circuit and so forth would be melted and disintegrated. Once reaching the first ship, Vox climbed aboard after everyone else to make certain that none dragged behind. He stood in the shuttle taking one good look at the entire college. He only hoped the best would happen. 

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Imperial Knight Commander Vernon Ryzhkov stood on the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer speaking to his counterpart, the attaché to the Military War College, Knight Commander Calistra Ivanov. She was kneeling in the meditation chamber behind the bridge of the single Star Destroyer attached to the College defense fleet, the Adveniat. The star destroyer was almost five decades old, and looked its age, despite the recent coat of imperial grey paint, there were the distinctive rust lines of a star destroyer that saw many months of atmospheric flight. One of the turbolaser turrets had ground to a halt during the evacuations and poked awkwardly to the aft of the ship, while the rest spun in coordination with their predetermined rotations. 

 

The ship, like all the fleet elements stationed at Anaxes were elderly ships at the end of their respective service lives. Many reactors were due for replacement or scuttling some years back, but the Galactic Alliance’s budget had not been targeted towards restoring old hulks used only for training. And after all, what better way to learn the failures in ships then to have to train on the most abused wrecks in the fleet? Or at least that had been the Galactic Alliance’s approach. Now, these ships would be evacuated along with college staff to the Rebel Alliance base at Nar Shaddaa. Put up to drydock, repaired and returned to service. At least if their refurbishment was worth the credits poured in. 

 

The Imperial Knights meditated as the evacuation neared its end, reaching out wit the force to give the assurance the evacuees needed. A form of battle meditation, it would none the less help. 

 

First, fully refuelled were the ancient Seraphim class Fuel tenders, Kilometers long fuel filled ships that were the essential backbone of the old imperial style strike force. Modified Seraphims also carried the College’s remaining replenishables, rations, and ammunition. The following Seraphims were evacuated:

 

Seraphim Class Fuel Tenders

Lilianna 

Maria

Kaila

 

Modified Seraphim Class Fleet Replenishment Vessel  

Apollonia 

Anastasia 

Theodora

 

Next came the fleet training vessels that had been retired from both the New Republic and Imperial Remnant Navies after the battle of the last death star. Both had complements and trainees that took the competition between the two old navies to heart and dressed the part. The two victory class star destroyers, also showing extensive rusting were named after moffs that had been essential in the Galactic Alliance split. While the GA admiral class ships were named for naval admirals that had been essential in forming the Galactic Alliance. One had been renamed from Starlisk to Sikaot due to concerns from faculty at the amount of hatred and rage the name had brought from any visiting imperials. The Following ships were evacuated in short order

 

Victory I “Moff” Class training ships 

Moff Caiderus 

Moff Honenhiem 

 

MC75 “Admiral” Class Training Ships

Admiral Sikaot

Admiral Sairdonga

 

MC30 “Queen” Class

Queen Memara

Queen Miriam

 

Raven_3_Sig.png.fa6e284bec4ff42ba02901e8567b2f87.png

Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Looking at Vox as the last of the men boarded and the shuttle began to lift off, he nodded to the Trandoshan as he pulled the trigger on the remote, detonations exploding with roaring galore as the transport shut its ramp and headed for space. Only the College and its ties were destroyed, surrounding buildings, warehouses, and dorms left untouched save the minute particles of dust that settled upon their forms as the structures erupted and fell like a stack of pizzak cards. The mission to Anaxes was a success and now it was time to head home. Mythos stepped the front, opening a comm.

 

"Evac successful." His mangled voice expressed as his artificial finger tapped the earwig, a sense of relief emanating from within him. "Prepare for hyperspace once we arrive Montjoie"

 

Just as Mythos finished his words, the Shistavanen had to rub his eyes briefly, the apparatus of a dark figure creeping up in the corner of his eye, only no one seemed to notice it. Worry sat within his mind, the visage a remnant of what he saw during his duel with the Sith at Dark Sun. His gigantic paw slapped the side of his head quickly, playing it off as the earwig bothering his sensitive hearing. But in truth, Mythos just wanted the figures to go away. As the episode subsided, Mythos looked ahead.

 

As the transport sat down in the hangar, the Montjoie sat front and center of the fleet that Mythos had assigned the Imperial Agent. In unison, all ships jumped into hyperspace and headed straight to Nar Shadaa. Anaxes was complete.

 

(Next post is at Nar Shadaa)

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  • 6 months later...

“Welcome back Lieutenant!”

 

With a strong grip he pulled the young woman out of the bacta tank. She shuddered for a moment before he placed her down onto the table beside the team of nurses and medi-droids. They had extracted the sarlacc spores over a breathtaking 40 hour surgery, but the young woman was definitely alive, and after the week in high concentration bacta, was well enough to sit up and even talk. Though it took her a few minutes to rouse enough energy in her tired form to say a few short words of praise for the medical team. 

 

Delta smiled down at her, but his smile suddenly turned to an ashen frown. The bright red spikes on her holographic chart as well as the sudden deathly silence of the medical staff told him all that he needed to know. They had missed one. What joy there was in the room was sucked away. 

 

“Hold her down!” He cried as she began to violently seize, but the medical staff needed no encouragement. A glance at the lead doctor's face told Delta that whatever came next was purely palliative and useless. “Doc get me an extraction needle and a line. How much CSF for a proper cloning?” 

 

“A lot.” 

 

Spast

 

Delta strode to the woman he had only just started to love and pulled her wet hair away from the back of her neck. “Hold fast Blacktorin. I’ll see you on the other side ok.” He didn’t know if he would, of if anything would even work, but he had to try. The nurse placed the bone marrow needle against Blacktorins high and hit the button. The large gauge needle slammed home and the girl shrieked in pain as it found purchase in the centre of her upper femur. The next few minutes would be pure hell for the girl, and it would be brutal for everyone involved. The girl was going to die, and it would not be slow. 

 

To die to be reborn

 

“Brain scan beginning, harvest CSF now while we have time.” The doctor’s voice was calm despite the thrashing coming from his patient. He nodded and Delta wrapped an arm around her head and forced Blacktorin’s chin down onto her chest. He placed the vibroscapel on the crest of her neck and let the microvibrating metal bit do its work. Then he withdrew a bloody hand and replaced it with a suction needle. The thick, syrupy cerebrospinal fluid pulled out of her spinal cord like a slow draw from a milkshake. 

 

She screamed the entire time. And when it was done, he let go of her head and let the body fall back onto the table. Skin once flushed now a sickly pale. He kissed a stiff hand, and let it drop onto her bloody chest. Then looked back to the doctor. 

 

“Clone her. Make it perfect.” 

 

There was no need to threaten the man. Delta’s title. The Blood Prince. Was enough to carry the threat without ever speaking it. And with that, Delta strode back to his rooms. Alone again. 

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Delta sat in silence for several hours and was only disturbed by a high priority communique from Sith High Command ordering him to move on a potential Jedi Incursion into the Serenno system. Delta pulled up his command roster and grimaced. 

 

Darkhand was at only 50 percent operability. So they would deploy the regular forces instead. And Delta would deploy with a select squad of men. The tip of the spear, where he belonged. He clicked a button on his comm and summoned his command team. 

 

Within a few hours Taskforce Wild Hunt departed for the Serenno sector. 

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Sith Empire Destroyer Group [Turbolasers]

Taskforce Experience Green (1xp)

- Assigned Callsign - 

Hunter

KDY Victory II-class Star Destroyer Hellkite |9/9| 

KDY Victory II-class Star Destroyer Hellequin |9/9| 

 

Sith Empire Precision Strike Carrier Group

Taskforce Experience Green (1xp) 

- Assigned Callsign - 

Bow

KDY-Lancer-class Frigate Wake |3/3|

KDY-Lancer-class Frigate Stormsea |3/3|

Raider-class corvette Oden |2/1|

Raider-class corvette  Herla |2/1|

Raider-class corvette Frea |2/1|

Raider-class corvette  Phol |2/1|

LC-Strike-class medium cruiser-carrier Nidhöggr |9/9|

 

Sith Empire Rapid Intervention Escort: Timely Response

Taskforce Experience Green (1xp) 

- Assigned Callsign -

Shield

KDY Kyber-class Star Destroyer Nástrǫnd |20/20| 

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Ca'Aran

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  • 4 weeks later...

The once flourishing academy had housed the entirety of the Republic’s young officers. Who before their early assignments, had been pumped fully with republic warfare strategy. This academy had fostered the minds that had led the disastrous campaigns of the early clone wars, then the disastrous campaigns of the early Empire, the rebellion, the New Republic, then lastly the cowardly strategies of the Galactic Alliance. Had these been the halls that the officers of the failed abortive campaign at Onderon had travelled? Delta did not know. He ran his hand across the old stone and shook his head. 

 

He turned to Lieutenant Jackson, and with a nod she silently marked on her thin datapad. 

 

“Destroy it all. It is marked by their cowardice. This is a new Empire Jackson.” He raised a tired eyebrow. “We do not need the vestiges of an old corpse to claim the right to the throne.” A white grin spread across her dark face, and she made another mark on her datapad. 

 

________________________________________

 

The grand fleet of the Sith Empire, or at least a subsection of the fleet, assigned to the Anaxes Garrison began their slow work of shelling the old school grounds. It was not a precise thing. Helllike bombardments of planetary surfaces rarely were, but it was a manoeuvre in need of practise. As the Sith Empire had not done a planetary bombardment since the great campaign to seize the throne had begun. The first hours of bombardment shattered the old stone of the academy, and the next few hours glassified it. Only then, when naught but fire and liquified stone existed, did the builders begin their work. 

 

A foundation was built of the melted stone, formed and reformed by application of the force and the will of the Sith lords. The dark stone foundation stretched for several square miles, marking the beginning and end of the academic grounds. 

 

________________________________________

 

“When looking to build an academy, you must look at the academic mind! Here there will be no prefabrication. Such structures butcher the mind and sap the body of its will.”

- Darth Sensara. Logistics Director of the Anaxes Project. 

 

When the decision was made to make a new Academy. The Director of Logistics, Darth Sensara, decreed that it should be a joint venture of the Galactic Sith Empire. And so the resources would be locally sourced from the sacred and most important worlds of the Galaxy. 

 

From Onderon was ordered great stones of granite, taken from the great stone mines of Iziz. Millions of tonnes of rock were hewn from the surface of that ancient planet and deposited onto the new foundations. Three great Ziggurats were made of the Onderonian Stone. Two smaller pyramids that flanked the great pyramid in the center. The largest pyramid stretched thousands of feet into the air, dominating the landscape for hundreds of miles. 

 

From Korriban came great statues of the Sith. Transported from the Valley of the Dark Lords and reminding every member of the academy that they bowed to only one thing. The one thing they did not have. The Force. 

 

From Coruscant came the electricians who tied the buildings together and gave them electrical life. Great simulation bays, kitchens, and medical facilities were installed in all three ziggurats, enough to feed, train, and sustain the thousands of men and women that would attend the Anaxes Academy. 

 

________________________________________

 

The academy was reserved for those that were classified as non force using officers in the Sith Empire. Any of those that were gifted in the force were shelved off to become Lords at the academies at Korriban. While the regular troops of the empire were trained on location on several other military worlds. The ground based Academy was divided into three sections. 

 

The northern Academy contained the training center for the commandos. The smallest structure of the lot, and dedicated to the elite among the Sith Military, housed both the Advanced Urban Combat Center, and the Advanced Combat Reconnaissance center. This facility trained all its attendees in operations concerning special insertion, boarding, urban combat, scouting, reconnaissance, survival, and special weapons. 

 

The Southern Academy housed the young minds of the heavy battalions, with their tanks and walkers. Training the officers in heavy weapons use, and use of tanks and vehicles of all kinds. 

 

The great central pyramid was dedicated to the officers of the Army. Those that did not specialize into a direct subdivision, but were of the rank of Lieutenant. These men would learn how to command troops, run simulations, and other battlefield situations. Upon each promotion earned, the officer would return to the academy to receive more direct training.

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Ca'Aran

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  • 2 years later...

Beck stood looking out the viewport on the bridge of Fiat Lux, looking at the planet Anaxes before him. The comms were busy with chatter as was almost everyone on the bridge. Ships were coming and going with supplies and people who needed to get places, and the Fiat Lux somehow became the main hub for which all traffic was being controlled and ordered by. A few people from his own command had already rushed back and forth to the surface for security reasons. 

 

For whatever reason, there was increased interest suddenly with the War College that was below. It could have been due to the Alliance now taking an interest in it, or it could have been just with the sudden vacuum of power swap that was created after the events of Nar SHaddaa. He really had no clue, nor did Beck care. Lieutenant Lilla Rurn came and stood next to him, handing him a report as she did. “There is now an eagerness below as to why you have spent three days in the system and have not yet reported to the college itself.” He took the report from her and gave her a look of inquiry. “I told them you had other matters of greater importance… But I must admit that I myself wonder why sir…”

 

He turned to face the viewport again, letting the report in his hand drop to his side. “This place was recently struck by the Sith Empire. From ruins it has slowly been rebuilding, but almost in the exact same fashion. They hold the same mindset they did for the past few years.” He let out a very heavy sigh. “They want things done by the book, yet don’t follow the book for other elements. They want the high ranking leader to show up, make a show and present a vision and a plan, as it always has been done. Yet by military and naval standards, they would need to send a ship of their own to fetch said leader…” 

 

His very words seemed to sink in for his right hand lieutenant. Her slow head nodding he saw from the corner of his eye told him she understood now her own question of why. “You’re establishing a firm hierarchy of how things should go.” She suddenly had a thought. “What if they don’t understand that’s what you're waiting for?” The Admiral gave out a loud, yet very short laugh. “They have three more hours to do so before I send a ship for them to join me in the conference room onboard the Fiat Lux. Then we will rework their mindsets.” Lilla Rurn gave a nod, followed by a salute before she turned and walked off to continue her own duties. Beck liked her. She was very much forward and to the point. She would do very well with him. But for now, he awaited to see what the current leadership of the War College would do.

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