"Sir, the Coalition fleet has formed up with our own. Also, the Shinanos report that their work is complete, and that they are now proceeding to join us in orbit." said the aide.

"Very well then. Order the Venators to deploy their ground troops and rescue crews." ordered Kraken.

The thick slab doors of the Venator class Troopship's underside opened to reveal rows of Drop Ship Pods, the same kind used by the Doomgiver in the assault on Yavin IV by a rogue Imperial admiral many years ago. The pods dropped into the atmosphere of the world, then fired their repulsors, and floated down to the coastal city devastate by the Imperial barrage, twenty four pods in all being deployed. From the pods issued rows and columns of stormtroopers, and Imperial walkers, AT-STs and AT-ATs, to be exact. Half of the twenty thousand stormtroopers deployed went into the city to search building to building for survivors, while the walkers combed the country side for the few stray blasts that might have hit outlying dwellings. The remaining stormtroopers assisted in helping to erect a makeshift city for the displaced citizens. A pre-fabricated garrison base was deployed from the fleet flagship, complete with barracks for the citizens, a makeshift hospital to treat the wounded complete with a full medical staff, and a landing pad for shuttles or personnel craft bringing in supplies, along with two warehouses for storing the supplies and other needs. Finally, a full wall enclosed the complex, guarded by four turblaser batteries and twelve quad laser cannons. The armament was merely part of the package, and the Imperial officers knew they weren't needed.

"Good job. Now, proceed to deploy the starfighters for operation Heyday." ordered Park Kraken.

The hangar bays on all of the ships opened, deploy their complements of Imperial starfighters. In all, the Imperial fleet deployed some two thousand two hundred starfighters, ranging from TIE Defenders Mark III to TIE Fighters, Interceptors, Bombers, and Scimitar Assault Bombers. The respective wings were formed, then broke down into squadrons, and then broke down again into flights of four ships each. The purpose in deploying these starfighters were two fold. One being that the Empire was showing off it's strength in it's fighter corps, and the other being that these were honor guard escorts for the shuttles now issuing from several of the largest ships. The officers of the fleet, including the governer, his aides, his staff, plus the fleet commanders, and ground generals, were all coming forward and descending to the surface of the planet.

Park was onboard the shuttle Farcry, and it was the lead shuttle. All together the impressive armada of small ships was making it's way into the atmosphere of the planet, heading torwards the capital city, the site of the celebration scheduled for this evening. As the ships entered the atmosphere, great sonic booms reverted off of the nearby mountians, and some poor folks fled their homes and into the hills, thinking that they were under attack.

The fundraiser had indeed been shifted closer to the capitol then the site of the bombardment - the ruined town being not far from the city itself. As the Imperial phalanx of fighters and shuttles arrived with great fanfare, flights of Kris fighters rose to meet them, but there was no blood spilt.

Instead, they enveloped the Imperial formation in an outer layer, expanding the magnificance of their little procession and putting at ease the locals who had wondered wether or not they had indeed beaten back the Imperial threat.

Ion blinked, and smiled. "Regrad was right, I've never seen an Azguardian fundraiser."

"From the looks of him, I doubt the Empire's representative has either." said Eisle, who pointed to the landing shuttle of their new arrival. The two captains had only just arrived with the townsfolk to the party, the celebration itself just finishing preparation.

It was indeed unique in all the galaxy as perhaps the first galaxy-level gala to have strobe lights. Not to mention bedsheet togas. After preliminary fears that Coalition attendees would become violent around Imperial attendees, the hosts had struck upon the idea of each participant donning a white sheet wrapped around their body as a toga, in an effort to tone down the nationalism of each side. It was also believed that copious alcohol-related refreshment might help keep the night amiable.

The Coalition soldiers, townspeople, and other native attendees were arriving in droves - their work done for the day (wether that work be clearing wreckage, stamping forms, or shooting at warships), they gladly grabbed at the chance to don sheets and dance to live entertainment. Despite Tynna's reputation as a place of culture and art, the only musicians that could be obtained at such short notice played the sort of music that less flowed and more stormed - you didn't listen to it, it made you listen. That was quite all right, however, since the people they were entertaining were after all mostly soldiers, and whose idea of dancing was jumping into the air and thrashing their heads enthusiastically.

"I feel ridiculous..." began Eisle, trying to pin the toga in place.

"You think you're feeling stupid now? Get ready to address an Imperial governor at a classic Tynnian rock concert." said Ion, biting off the cap on a bottle of drink offered to him by a crewmate. "Because he's coming this way."

There was not a sober sentient in the whole tent.

Coalition soldiers, Tynnians, Imperial clean-up workers - and yes, even stormtroopers - gleefully stumbled around the fundraiser, the fog machine and strobe-light creating the desired effect. The band was playing a local hit 'Shout', and a rowdy pit of moshing had started up.

"An... annat's why.. when... when the thing is - the things is abouts this!" The Tynnian soldier hiccuped, and almost fell over "The things is, that, yous guys *hic* came here - only it wuzzint you, it was them other guys - except they'res you too, 'cause it's the same... it's the same... wossit? Empire? Yeah, its'se same Empire wot was here earlier, innit? Its'a same thing."

The toga-d Imperial pilot tried to focus on the seal-person talking to him, but couldn't get both images to align. "Worl, yeah, I guess in general terms-like, we're the same... uh... the same people? Izzat right?" The soldier to his right just shrugged drunkenly. "But - annis is a bit bit - we wuzzent the same people. Thems was... thems was Baron Telan's men they wuz - bastards, they are. Takin' guff from a toff. Izzat right?" the soldier to his right was no less drunk, and shrugged. "Anyways, It donna matter no mores, 'cause now we've *hic* all had a drink, so we'z friend again."

An Azguardian trooper stormed right on by, spilling his beer wildly chanting something in his native tongue - the chatting Coalition and Imperial hardly even noticed.

Indeed, it was a good night.

Maxly was only upset he'd missed this much.

"Are we too late for the party?" his voice boomed, as the ragged (but eager) ranks of the Coalition's boarding parties set off to secure togas and drinks. "You there, where's your commanding officer? We've got to report in."

The Stormtrooper - whos helmet had been misplaced - sneered through an alcoholic haze "You're not the boss o' me - I'm the boss of me. I think. I drink. I drink when I think, hehehe *hic*."

Maxly rolled his eyes "Aw hell, who cares?" and pinned a toga over his battle-armour.

"I'll file your report for you, if you don't mind." said J-1, calmly weaving through the drunken rabble. "It's only a matter of finding Captain Ion and - oh."

The spy politely and calmly approached the couch, and gently tapped Captain Ion on the shoulder, in a friendly way to tell him that there was busines at hand. Ion managed to extricate his lips from... somewhere... in Captain Eisle's tentacled features, and mumbled "Wuzzat then?"

"Captain Ion? I've been asked to hand in my report, as well as Maxly's. The crew has been saved, and are now freely mingling here in this very party."

"R-Really?" said Ion, a smile feebly forming on his drunken face. "Well... well that's great! Where izzat guy?"

"I don't know, sir - perhaps you'll be able to find him later?"

"That sounds like an... like an excellent idea." And with that, Eisle grabbed Ion by the shoulders again. Could you even be kissed by a Quarren? J-1 had never had to think about it before, but the sheer physics of it all seemed mind-boggling. Ion probably wouldn't regret it 'till morning - or until he suffocated from tentacle-strangulation.

The spy left the two Captains on their couch, and instead took in the party. He was fairly professional - barring that incident on the Swift Death's Bridge, a little cynical voice told him- and knew that this was, perhaps, the last time the Empire and the Coalition were ever going to mingle like this anywhere in the galaxy. Maybe the first time they'd ever had, anyways. He needed to get drunk. That was the way to celebrate.

It was as he plucked his first drink from a looted cooler, he suddenly heard a sound - or rather absence of sound. The last band had finished up, and now it was Regrad on stage (A few of the more enthusiastic moshers kept the pit going. It was the only form of violent interaction allowed between the Empire and the Coalition that night, so it only seemed fair to let this tradition go on). J-1 could see he had gotten into the party atmosphere by balancing a lampshade on his head and pinning an all-too-elaborate Toga over his usual robes of state. Maybe he was missing the point of the whole bedsheet toga idea, or maybe this was just the sort of person Regrad was.

Nevertheless, he seemed intent to speak. "Friends! So good to see you all at our little party! Admittedly, it was a little harder to set up then we'd hoped - some trouble with the tent-hooks, last-minute schedual conflicts with some of the bands, the occasional Star Destroyer bombardment..." much to J-1's surprise, this actually got laughs - even from the Imperials. Just how drunk was everyone? "But seriously, I think we should raise a... well, a toast! But we haven't got any toast. So instead, grab your beer, grab someone else's beer if they're not looking, maybe grab one more for the road and two more because it's a highway - To our guests!" Amazingly, everyone did it. The Coalition and the Empire each raised their bottles, glasses, and cans, and in all sincerity, toasted one another with big grins. Containers were drained - in the case of Regrad, through impressive chugging.

He even crumpled the can for extra effect, which got a few more grins. "Sadly, it looks like our new friends are going to have to go home tomorrow - don't worry, we're not letting them fly home in this condition! - but that doesn't mean we can't have a kickass party right now!" There was a cheer, it rolled, and was boosted by hooting. "So, one more toast - come on, come on, you don't need another reason to drain a can, do you? Grab just one more. A toast to the day, a toast to victory and all that Jazz. A toast to the Tynnians, a toast to our good friend Captain Ion who - hey, you!" Regrad pointed, and the crowd turned. An embarassed Captain Ion pulled his face free from Eisle, and looked sheepishly at Regrad. "Okay, a toast to our good friend Captain Ion and his 'good friend' Captain Eisle. A toast to the brave boys and girls of the Tynnian Defence fleet. And a toast to toasting, because it is an excuse for me to wear a lampshade on my head and drink myself sick." There was a riotous cheer from everyone as the glasses were drained again.

This couldn't just be the alcohol cheering him on. There were some hardcore Imperials in this crowd who could drink with the best of them, but for just a few hours - maybe less - everyone forgot that. J-1 could see it from here, he could see Coalition beings from across the galaxy rubbing elbows with Imperial soldiers. Was it magic? Was it the Force? Maybe it was Regrad? J-1 didn't care, didn't think, for once he didn't have to. No one had to think about why, or how, or what, it was one last chance to instead think 'who' - as in, who they were and who the other guys were wasn't important any more. It was just... a party, and for a few hours - maybe less - J-1 felt... normal.

The party would go down in history as a sort of embarrased footnote. A weird, inexplicable moment of friendship. The Imperial guests would wake up the next morning, groan from a hangover, look embarassed as they snuck out of the bed of the Coalition hosts they'd thought looked beautiful through the haze of a good night's drinking, hurry their pants on, and be off quickly and without meeting each other's gaze until they were well away. On their part, there would be some whining in the days to come on Tynna about how they had to play host to their enemies, which would be quickly silenced by the money raised in the fundraiser and the hilarious movies along the lines of Imperials Gone Wild and Tynna's funniest War Movies. The magic of the moment would be forgotten, and it would make little difference in the war to come. Still, for the moment, the whole galaxy had almost seemed... normal again.