Iridonia

You couldn't tell from space that a large portion of Iridonia's surface had been blasted by a concentrated planetary bombardment. A geological scan would reveal that something had created enough heat and pressure turn large deposits of silicon in the planet's surface into pure glass but, there were still other possible culprits for such damage: massive volcanic activity, a superheated meteorite even. However, once you made it through the thick, acidic clouds, the damage was obvious. The planet had never been a paradise, but the swath of empty blackness that covered a major portion of the planet's northern hemisphere was a testament to the destructive power of an Imperial Star Destroyer. The hour-long planetary bombardment, a non stop waterfall of deadly turbolaser fire, had been so destructive that the natives spoke of it in awe, and had already woven it into their oral legends; truly epic tales detailing the exploits of mighty Zabrak mercenaries and, of course the tale of Darth Maul and the Battle of Theed.

The fact that the tale could be told at all tells one something about the Zabrak. Living on Iridonia gives the Zabrak a unique perspective on life- they take the good with the evil, and accept what happens to them, and move on with life. They do not remorse for their own sorrows and shed no tears for the troubles of others. Life on their barren world is too difficult to spend time in self-pity. This tendency is very useful to a race of warriors and guns for hire, and thus is very important to the Zabrak way of life.

Few people had paid real attention to the plight of the Zabrak following the attack. A history as violent and ruthless as there was unlikely to garner many friends in the galactic community. There was a general consensus that the GLF had actually gotten something right for a change, and that the Zabrak deserved their fate. Hundreds of thousands of them were killed, and more displaced to other regions of the broken world. These refugees were forced by necessity to congregate into huge camps, in which there was little on which to subsist. The sprawling collectives had become squalid cemeteries, as the displaced multitudes wasted away, living day to day on the miniscule amount of aid that founds its way to the planet.

The planet that no one cared about. Not the Empire, the Coalition... anyone.

The first GLF members who arrived brought food. Food was worth its weight in coursica gems, and the GLF operatives were accepted in the silent manner of the zabrak, silent but thankful. Most refugees didn't know it had been a GLF attack; those who did had the immediate need of hunger to address and they accepted the gifts as readily as the others. Slowly, more and more GLF operators began coming to Iridonia, bringing with them supplies and garnering goodwill. Some took over the camps and oversaw efforts to make the camps viable places to exist: creating permanent housing, creating facilities for sanitation and other such necessities.

Some of the GLF personnel oversaw recruiting, and they picked up a fair number of converts, many of who were shipped off the planet. But that was not the primary reason for the Zabrak operation. Slowly, larger numbers of GLF began coming to the world, but in addition to food aid they brought weapons. A vast assortment of weapons, mainly small arms, but also heavy, more potent machinations. Into the camps these weapons were hauled, stored discretely when possible: the few heavy vehicles being difficult to hide were covered by special camouflage netting or disguised as farming equipment as best as could be done.

The Zabrak were thankful for the aide. It was quickly becoming apparent that something more than just goodwill was prompting the GLF's charity. Some Zabrak volunteered to join the terrorists- most were promptly shipped off world- but some were worked into the existing plan. Still more GLF arrived, but they came with only weapons, no more food or other items. A look in there eyes could tell you that something was going to happen soon...

Present

With a flash another set of medium transports (three this time) suddenly became visible, and the pilot corkscrewed the X-wing rather rapidly to obtain a new, much less collision prone course.

24.

The three new arrivals began forming up with the others, which were holding a tight formation in a distant orbit of Iridonia. A pair of Nebulon-B frigates and another pair of old Dreadnaught heavy cruisers sat on a plane above the transports, like four watchdogs protecting a flock of nerfs. The cruisers were an added bonus, detailed to the protection detail at the last minute, for reasons unknown to the lowly pilot.

He was part of the original security force, 60 (5 squadrons of 12) assorted fighters ranging from an entire squadron of piss-poor uglies (mainly Y-Ties) to three top of the line TIE Defenders, stolen en transit from an Imperial factory world. The fighter screen was now buzzing around somewhat aimlessly; mainly tying to avoiding the medium transports they were charged with defending.

They had been told no security would be necessary. The marshalling of the transports was scheduled to take two standard hours. The loading process two more. Hyperspacing away was slated to take less than half an hour. A four and a half hour time window for an enemy to strike. The chances of a force large enough pose any serious threat stumbling across the build up were astronomically low. Security was simply a failsafe, a precaution. Hold off any intrusion long enough for the transports to jump away (either to their destinations or the rendezvous point in case of emergency) then get out. With his X-wing jump capable, he could leave as soon as everything was clear. The poor pilots of those uglies (if they survived a firefight) would have to hope they could make it to a docking rack on one of the dreadnaughts or the nebulon's hanager bay. The odds...

Weren't worth considering, because there was going to be no problem. Another pair of transports had just hypered in; the whole operation was actually ahead of schedule, and the first group of five medium transports were descending toward the surface of Iridonia, flanked by five hornet interceptors, and a trio of A-9 Vigilance Interceptors.

Everything was going according to plan.

The Past....


Ysanne Isard watched the bitz bug, a native beetle of the planet that held her current interest, as it scattered across the dirt surface of the rather large plexiglass contained environment. A habitat (of sorts) the ground was made of a very fine, very flat, reddish dust warmed by heat lamps lining the ceiling of the large container. Longer and wider than a conference table, the habitat boasted “see-thru” clarity on all sides.

Yet, to find the particular beetle she was looking at, one had to look very hard as it scampered towards its goal.

“Do you know what quality makes Imperial Intelligence the best, Ciscero?” she asked as the agent walked in entering data onto a pad. “What sets Intelligence apart from other inferior agencies?”

“I would imagine because they are inferior.” Ciscero started without looking up, “coupled with the fact that we are better.”

Isard smiled. The sight was not a pretty one. “Simplistic answer.” She murmured as her hand ran across the smooth, clear surface. “Imperial Intelligence is represented by this lone creature. Unobtrusive, uncomplicated and yet highly motivated, skilled and possessing of the will to accomplish what it sets out to do.”

Her hand stopped sliding across as she watched the creature stop in front of a large edible piece of something. It’s pincers grabbed onto the piece and it began to pull.

“Our operatives usually work alone. They are taught to cross the distance.. grab the objective and return. It is that ‘loner’ approach that allows for our compartmentalization to actually be effective…. That allows for compromises to our security to have minimal effect. It gives greater flexibility and distributes control to our operatives.”

“Unless they cross you..” Ciscero added, finally looking up and glancing at the habitat. “It also leaves a lot riding on singular individuals.”

Her finger went out and tapped the cage, spotting another small bug scurring along. “That is why you separately assign two to accomplish an objective.” Then she turned, “But that is hardly ever required. In time the less skilled become weeded out and Intelligence is left with only the best.”

“It helps that they are provided with generous resources..."







A large force of GLF irregulars is currently based on Iridonia, dispersed among the zabrak refugee camps in the habitable parts of the planet. They will be moving off Iridonia soon- to be dispersed on nearby Mid-Rim Protectorate Worlds. If they are dispersed, they will cause an amazing amount of havoc for Admiral Kracken, and they will be very hard to completely wipe out, causing a protracted problem.

You have once chance- attack the gathering transports over Irodnia. The window for attack is miniscule, and the transports will be protected by a fighter screen, but sucess will mean eliminating out some 7,000 irregulars."






"And Iridonia?"

"We have some assets in the area that we can muster. I will send coordinates to Captain Ironside once I confirm the logistical side of this."

"So we act."

"Hell, yes, we act on it! Once we've crushed the GLF on Irodnia, we will credit it to the aid given to us by our association with Agro Incorporated."

Ciscero smiled. "It will begin to alienate Hilter from the rest of his terrorist friends."

"Exactly. And if GLF or any other terrorist cronie try to get revenge on Hilter, he has Imperial power backing him up."

"Thus putting Hilter into our camp." Ciscero concluded. "Just do not forget to credit the attack to Captain Sansa and make sure he is suddenly on the fast track to Admiral."






The planet Iridonia was an inhospitable world, its surface scoured by 200-kilometer-per-hour storms and acidic seas which threw caustic spray onto the land. What arable land there was for the Zabrak to farm was located within canyons, away from the elements.



K-605 sat at the edge of the mass shadow outer elliptic it's passive scans watching yet another hyperspatial terminus into the system and the arrival of another set of transports with fighter escorts.

605 and 593 were both observing the system having been ordered immediately on location by the Grand Marshall. They were the closest spy craft patrolling the area and so had made the detour.

Their orders were simple.

Provide onsite logistical support for the fleet enroute. Preplanned databurst coordinates were to be relayed.

The exact composition of the fleet coming was not known nor was did the vanguard know if their databursts were being received and decrypted.

For such surgical precision, it usually was an indicator that the force attacking was going to be small and therefore needed what little advantages they had to count.

Nero watched on K-593 as the transports and fighter escorts descended into the atmosphere.

"Idiots." he muttered. "The winds will play havoc with their equipment and machines."

"The mercs must be getting paid a premium to subject their fighters to that punishment." The Captain remarked rechecking the sensor results. "Those transports are not going to fare much better."

"So, when do you think the strike will commence?"

"Not sure.." the Captain thought for a bit. "Those transports will be loaded up, you have the ascent, and the hyperspace formation... about three or four hours. I will tell you one thing tho.."

Nero turned, "What's that?"

"There are more transports coming."

"How do you figure?"

"What is there is not enough to hold 7,000 individuals. So another wave must be enroute. I expect they will arrive while this group is loading..."

"The optimal time to attack would be when they are making their ascent." Nero murmured and the Captain grinned.

"I agree."

"If Captain Ironside gets here in time.." Nero scowled looking at a timepiece.


"If I know Ironside, he's probably outside the system right now planning his microjump positions. Say what you want about the man but he is punctual....

damn!"

Nero saw an Ensign had the Captain an anlysis report and grew curious at the outburst. The Captain looked up grimacing.

"The wind is up to 250 kilometers per hour and it looks like it is getting worse."


Nero displayed a slow smile that showed teeth. "Those poor, poor terrorists."

Sorry for the long wait...

Atmosphere

The wind whipped ferociously around the first group of medium transports and their escorts as they hurtled through the thick gaseous atmosphere of Iridonia. The pilots of the fighter craft were struggling to keep their craft in formation, as the small snubfighters were bouncing around wildly.

The larger tansports were having a much better time, their greater mass much less affected by the swirling gusts. A strong headwind whipped up, and the transports began gaining ground on the snubfighters. The flight leader, piloting an A-9 Vigiliance made a decision. Comming his wingmates, he ordered them off escort duty out of saftey concerns. The eight escorting fighters pulled up suddenly, flying toward the saftey of spaces calm, peaceful vaccum.

Below them, the medium transports pressed on, entering the level of the troposphere where the storm was at its strongest. There hulls shuttering from the many forces acting upon them, they continued downward toward there landing zones.


Space

Twenty-one medium transports remained tightly clustered in a high orbit over Iridonia. The fighters assigned to protect them buzzed around them, on patterns far to regular to be considered anything but pre-programed flight plans. The four capital ships situated above the transports were motionless.

There seemed to be no sense of urgency among the GLF craft.

Not that there was a need. The mission was a secret. Iridionia was a "friendly" world. They had all been assured that there was "no chance" that there would be problems over Iridonia.

The apperance of the eight escort fighters was the first major deviation from the established plan.

Little did the GLF know that there was about to be another that would cause a lot more problems.

An Interdictor cruiser, an ISD and two Victory Star Destroyers exited hyperspace beyond the mass shadow of Iridonia going through the usual preparations for battle with eager anticipation.

There was no reason to suspect the data and the officers and crew of the small taskforce were giddy with excitement to strike a large blow to the organization INS proclaimed dead.

With such an offensive planned, they would make the reality match the propaganda and there was talk of perhaps finally locating the mysterious Brutus Nogoth, though that was just a shipwide rumor.

The Interdictor activated it's field and the ISD and VSD's raised their shields. The fleet could not see the transport convoy as the convoy was on the other side of the planet. But the task force knew they were there from the tactical data being relayed by the hidden Shrouds.

They would catch the convoy unawares in a pincer movement around the northern hemisphere of the planet and destroy them completely.

Maneuvering orders were given and the Shrouds, under their cloak, waited to record the action for posterity.