The shuttle Blessed Vengeance swept through space like a cold wraith across an endless floor of black. For a moment, staring out the window, Xarrin Crae could almost imagine himself on a black catwalk back on Coruscant. The inky carpet below was sparkled with shards of glass reflecting the brilliant sunlight of the sky...
Which was a fantasy that would never come true, of course. Coruscant was light-years away, and Xarrin could never go back there; as far as the people of the City World were concerned, Xarrin was a part of the past, a Governer overthrown. Not entirely true; he'd more given the New Republic Coruscant than it had been taken from him. In fact, he'd been instrumental in saving both the people of that endless, sprawling metropolis, and those of the N.R. taskforce which had been sent to take in hostily.
And now, he was a High General, sitting in the cramped bridge of a Sentinel Landing Shuttle. The ship had been largely overhauled to allow for the transportation of the Rebel Armada's armed forces. More than fifty troops were recieving transporation on the craft- mostly JirenTech Panther droids, interspaced with a squad or two of elite Twi'Lek soldiers. The best of the best- top-of-the-line droids, and warriors who had honed their skill in the cut-throat underground society of Ryloth and the greatest theatres of war in the galaxy.
The Rebel Armada carried the explicit authority of both the New Republic and that of the Twi'Lek society of Ryloth. But with any luck, no one would even know anything was happening- until it was too late. The Jedi believed deception was of the Dark Side, but Xarrin didn't give a damn; it was time to hit, and hit hard. The Empire's fleet was off playing with the Republic, and now, they'd pay. And who better to pay them, than a man with nothing to lose?
So the Sentinel Landing Craft continued to streak across the black night, blue efflux tail of rapidly expanding gasses being fused to release untold amounts of energy to propel it forward. They were almost in communications range of Fondor, approaching it on it's dark side.
EDIT: Keeping it at the top so that some TNO people might notice it.
Which was a fantasy that would never come true, of course. Coruscant was light-years away, and Xarrin could never go back there; as far as the people of the City World were concerned, Xarrin was a part of the past, a Governer overthrown. Not entirely true; he'd more given the New Republic Coruscant than it had been taken from him. In fact, he'd been instrumental in saving both the people of that endless, sprawling metropolis, and those of the N.R. taskforce which had been sent to take in hostily.
And now, he was a High General, sitting in the cramped bridge of a Sentinel Landing Shuttle. The ship had been largely overhauled to allow for the transportation of the Rebel Armada's armed forces. More than fifty troops were recieving transporation on the craft- mostly JirenTech Panther droids, interspaced with a squad or two of elite Twi'Lek soldiers. The best of the best- top-of-the-line droids, and warriors who had honed their skill in the cut-throat underground society of Ryloth and the greatest theatres of war in the galaxy.
The Rebel Armada carried the explicit authority of both the New Republic and that of the Twi'Lek society of Ryloth. But with any luck, no one would even know anything was happening- until it was too late. The Jedi believed deception was of the Dark Side, but Xarrin didn't give a damn; it was time to hit, and hit hard. The Empire's fleet was off playing with the Republic, and now, they'd pay. And who better to pay them, than a man with nothing to lose?
So the Sentinel Landing Craft continued to streak across the black night, blue efflux tail of rapidly expanding gasses being fused to release untold amounts of energy to propel it forward. They were almost in communications range of Fondor, approaching it on it's dark side.
EDIT: Keeping it at the top so that some TNO people might notice it.