Sullust, The Past

“Councilor Hritam, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Of course, of course, Mr . . .” The Councilor trailed off for a moment, checking his notes, “. . . Tell. Now, what can I do for you this fine day?” Hritam made sure to keep his smile broad and unbroken until the door finally shut and the two Sullustans were alone.

But as soon as the doors shut, all sense of decorum vanished, replaced by a disapproving scowl. “I told you never to come here again.” The Councilor sunk into his chair, sighing heavily at what this meeting must mean.

“Maybe you could let things go before, Councilor, when SoroSuub bought―through their service to the Empire―some measure of freedom for our people. Maybe you believe, genuinely, that the creation of the Free Trade Directorate could protect that scant measure of liberty. Maybe you dared to believe that history would not repeat itself.

“But now you know better. The Sulustan Council has become an unwanted advisory cabinet; the Senate has become a redundant complaint department. Sei Maru exercises unchallengeable and absolute authority over the Sullustan people, government, and system.

“I have a plan, Councilor, but I need to know that when the moment comes, you will do what is right; not for yourself, but for our people. Can I depend on you?”

Councilor Hritam, High Councilor of the Senate and Vice President of the Sullustan Council, covered his face in shame. “Sei Maru promised us that we would become the centerpiece of an inter-planetary association of economically powerful, vitally important worlds; that he could secure for our people the power to preserve our liberties. That SoroSuub would be the instrument of our protection. That we would not need to fear the Empire. We were such fools.”

The guest leaned forward, allowing only a hardened, emotionless mask. “When the moment comes?”

Hritam fought back his emotions, managing to meet the other man's stare. “Yes, of course. Sullust must belong to its people once more. Whatever the cost.”







Sulon, soon after

“Director Nplr, a Mr. Tell from the Office of the Vice President of the Sulustan Council is requesting audience.”

Gvrin Nplr, Sei Maru's right hand man, scowled at the very thought of listening to some bumbling fool from the near-defunct Sulustan Council. “Deny,” He said simply.

“Sir, he has an appointment scheduled through the Office of Advancement.”

“That can't be right,” Nplr muttered to himself, checking his own schedule. But there it was, Sion Tell from the Office of the Vice President, scheduled through the Free Trade Directorate's Office of Advancement. He could have sworn he was clear until . . . “Alright, let him in.”

The Sulustan entered alone and made no effort to introduce himself. When the door shut behind him, he said, “I'm here about a certain matter of etiquette and protocol.”

The scowl vanished from Gvrin Nplr's face. His spine stiffened, his blood began to chill. He remembered the code phrase from his days with the Sullustan Resistance; whoever this man was, he wasn't from the Office of the Vice President of the Sulustan Council.

Opening a drawer in his desk, Nplr activated a small device and waited until the lights flashed green and it issued an affirmative tone. Only then did he give the response. “I'm just a man of action.” The last word caught in his throat; it was a hard thing for a man in his position to say.

“Sei Maru lied to us all. I'm here to rectify that error.”

“Hold your tongue, sir!”

The guest smiled broadly. “If you were going to turn me over to Directorate Security, you wouldn't have given me the code response. You want to know what I have to say, so I'm going to say it. So shut your mouth, traitor.”

Nplr was taken aback. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like that. But it was in that moment of stunned disbelief that something connected within the depths of his mind, and he remembered. “I know you.”

“Then you know how serious I am.”

Nplr sunk into his seat, the pressure of this moment mounting. “I am a very fortunate man. I have all that I could ever want. What could you possibly have to offer me?”

“I can relieve the weight of your conviction, Director.”

Nplr laughed at the weak response.

But the guest didn't laugh. He maintained his stoic posture. “You once lived in a world of ideals, and it almost destroyed you. When you were forced to confront reality, you found yourself on the wrong side of the line. You've become what you once fought against. I'm offering you the chance to cross over. We can't live the ideal, Mr. Nplr, but we can still be on the Light side of reality. You can still be one of the good guys.”

“What do you want from me?”

The rebel smiled bitterly. “I need you to dissolve the Free Trade Directorate.”

Director Nplr's bulbous eyes widened further. “Surely you can't mean . . .”

“When the time comes, and you find yourself in a position to do so, can I count on you to dissolve the Free Trade Directorate through Executive Order? Will you free the Sullustan people from their bonds?”

The second in command of the Free Trade Directorate spent a long moment in silence, his eyes gliding back and forth as he considered the past few years. “I will not see our world subject to far-off powers and alien interests.”

“Your dear friend, Sei Maru, has replaced a thousand masters a thousand light years away with one master only one orbit away. It is a tragedy to see our people subject to a foreign invader's will; it is an atrocity to see one of our own take that foreigner's place! Give voice back to our people. Let liberty be our only master once again.”

Gvrin Nplr gave the slightest nod. “Give me the ability, and the Free Trade Directorate will be no more. Our people will choose their own destiny.”







Sullust, the Recent Past

“In another life, I might have become Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Force. But in this life, I'll settle for just being free.” The Sulustan unrolled a flexible, transparent piece of rectangular material almost the size of the table it rested on. Opening his palm to show a small data card, he slid the card into a port on the edge of the transparent device and words, figures, and images materialized across it.

Sien Sovv, the man who had single-handedly assembled the tools needed to liberate his oppressed homeworld, looked across the simple table and through the dim confines of this hidden room and set the future into motion. “I can't promise you what will happen when the dust settles, when the fight is over. What I can promise you, is that the Sullustan people do not forget those who answer in our hour of need. What I can promise you, is that your service will buy our liberty, and that is a purchase of unparalleled value. Thank you.”

“You can begin now,” The shadowed figure answered simply.

“Of course,” Sien nodded, looking down at the data covering the table. He began pressing icons, opening various files and showing different elements of the plan. “The Empire has turned over most local authority to the Free Trade Directorate, headquartered on the moon, Sulon. Consequently, most of the actual military strength is there, not on Sullust. They answer ultimately to the Director General of the Free Trade Directorate, currently Sei Maru.

“As Director General, Sei Maru controls Sullust, Sulon, and the SoroSuub Corporation under an unchallenged dictatorship. So long as he meets the Empire's demands, he is maker, enforcer, and interpreter of law. I don't know if it's a character flaw or a mental defect, but Sei Maru has a terrible problem of narrowmindedness, this intense focus on his objective. Anything that doesn't directly effect his schemes is deemed totally irrelevant. It will prove to be our salvation.

“Maru's number two man, Gvrin Nplr, is on our side. If you can get to Sei Maru and take him out of action, authority will fall to Gvrin, and he will order a cease fire. You'll still have to deal with any Imperial forces in-system, but Directorate ground and space forces will comply. For them, there is no higher authority than their Director.”

Sien opened a new primary file, walking the man through the ground plan. “I've got large sections of on-planet security and judicial forces with us; they'll form the core of our on-world attack groups. The problem is Sulon. It's an agriworld, almost entirely droid operated. There simply aren't enough people on the moon to form a substantial resistance cell. But there are the Ramplish.”

The Sulustan rebel glanced up at his counterpart, a hint of shame on his features. “Our brother species, after generations of internal warfare, they left Sullust behind. They sought to return recently, but were barred from Sullust and redirected to Sulon. The Free Trade Directorate treats them as savages, refuses them rights to own property or participate in government or corporate enterprises. I have friends on Sulon who have been working to arm and train the Ramplish for some time now. They won't make much of an army, but they'll be one hell of an inciting event.”

Sien returned his attention to Sullust, pulling up a partial map of the complex tunnel system which crisscrossed the world below the surface. “Sullust is a labyrinth. Whoever you send down there needs to know his way. Caution and patience will be our allies there, because if the fight goes well on Sulon, the liberation of Sullust will be little more than a formality.

“The Sullustan Council is already on our side. They will voice their passions as the first blow falls. And remember, many of your enemies will be Sullustans, operating under the employ of the Free Trade Directorate; when the next sun rises, they will no longer be enemies, but friends. Do what you must to secure our freedom, but remember that the cost on both sides will be paid with the blood of my brothers.”

The mysterious figure made no gesture of empathy or understanding. “Is there anything else?”

Sien Sovv bowed his head slightly. “I am under no illusions, sir. I am no master tactician, no brilliant commander. Once the blows begin to fall, I will only be the man that used to have a plan. Whoever you send, make him worthy of those who choose to follow me.”

After a moment of consideration, Garen Racto of Alliance Intelligence gave a stiff nod, turned, and departed, the cybernetic implant that wrapped around his head carrying everything the Alliance would need to help the Sullustan people liberate their world from its vile oppressors.







Present

Until the SoroSuub Corporation moved its headquarters to Sulon and built that abomination two hundred kilometers away, Barons Hed had been Sulon's only real city. In the shadow of that monstrosity, the technical seat of governance for Sulon had shrunken to almost nothing. Its spaceport still handled all agricultural transport for Sulon's vast farms, but all SoroSuub corporate shipping had been shifted to the Trade Directorate HQ, meaning most of the Directorate customs and security personnel on the moon were stationed there, not here.

Of course, the continued attacks by the impoverished and dislocated Ramplish on SoroSuub corporate holdings across Sulon had made Directorate security experts on rapid deployment and corporate defense. Then again, the Ramplish had never done anything quite like this before.

Three hundred of the warrior-vagabonds approached the outskirts of the city in an assortment of hovercraft acquired from origins unknown and by means unspoken. They dashed unimpeded through the streets of the city, the first volley of their weapons striking against the towering walls of the Government House like a rushing wave upon a mighty breakwater.

Many of the attackers dismounted from their vehicles, moving to secure the area as their counterparts opened fire with the more impressive members of their arsenal. They poured heavy fire into the armored doors, intent upon gaining entry.

Government House, set atop the summit of Barons Knoll, towered over the city that sprawled outward in all directions. From their hilltop vantage, the Ramplish attackers had a rather nice view of any approaching force. And soon, the door would fall, the tower would be seized, and the high ground would truly be theirs.



Barons Hed spaceport

Commander Dar of the Free Trade Directorate Security Force couldn't believe the beasts had the brains for this sort of thing. They were attacking the Government House! The usually just took pot shots at Directorate ground vehicles or put a few dozen rounds through some random building's windows.

But this time it was different. This time, they had a target. “Alright boys, fast and light! We gotta stop these animals before they break something important!” Dar chuckled at the thought: There's nothing important in Government house! Everyone knew the Directorate was in charge here. Yet appearances demanded he respond, so he would.



To the north of Barons Hed lies a broken chain of low mountains that taper into large, rolling hills. On the far side of the nearest of these hills, three thousand Ramplish camped, anxiously awaiting the opportunity to play their part. When Harah VoRill's commlink finally chirped it's message, he raised his hand and released a mighty roar.

Three thousand warriors spilled over the crest of that hill and descended into the streets of Barons Hed. But their objective was not the meaningless Government House where their compatriots awaited. Their objective was the now-defenseless spaceport.

Because the truth of the matter is that the Free Trade Directorate is bound by appearances to defend the Government House, but it is bound by corporate interest to defend the spaceport. That spaceport was property of the SoroSuub Corporation, and the foodstuffs it exported fed much of the corporation's workforce. Government House could be razed to rubble and everything would carry on as usual, but the loss of even a day's operation for the spaceport meant losses for the corporation, and that was something the Free Trade Directorate simply would not allow.

Unfortunately, Commander Dar's little anti-raider force was ill-equipped to repulse three thousand raging Ramplish attacking from behind.

Soon the real fighters would arrive, in force, from Driectorate HQ, and then the Battle of Barons Hed could really begin.

SoroSuub HQ, Sulon

The lobby to the new HQ certainly was luxurious; speaking of SoroSuub’s wealth. Or perhaps rather, it’s ability to spend wealth to rapidly build a new headquarters on grounds of it being too close to possible rebel activity. Whoever had thought of that measure had forgotten one tenet that plagued the Empire in the past: rebels were everywhere, and perhaps more importantly, could be anyone.

"You are the delegation from Astroserver Industries?" said the Sullustan.

Sturm yawned and nodded, "Excuse, we have a bit of jetlag from our trip..."

"The Commonwealth is a long ways to travel from. You’ll have to forgive me sir, but I need to see some ID..."

“Understandably,” said deGrasse.

Sturm nodded and as the man next to him handed off his passport to security guard. DeGrasse was an actual businessman for Astroserver Industries which had dealings with SoroSuub. He was also an Alliance sympathesizer. All-in-all, a likeable man to Sturm, save for his clothing. Or any of Astroserver Industries corporate uniforms that the rest of the team was wearing…he just found their electromesh material a little too puffy for his liking.

Whisper was standing behind Sturm, leaning against the wall, when he was about to light his cigar, he heard the shrill tones of a droid, reminding him the building was smoke free.

He sighed. His last assignment had been so much easier. At least the sex was good. Not to mention taking down a corrupt dictator and scoring several million credits in wealth for the Rebellion, all the while leaving no trace. It was a days work, that no one in the current unit even knew that he had done...He had been told from the higher ups that they had told Sturm and Crafty that he had been pulled for a diplomatic mission on Correllia, which he knew would cause them to gripe. If they only knew what he had done for the Rebellion....they'd probably be griping more. He slightly grinned to himself.

"Mr. Gray, I don't suppose we could get a move on...I haven't had my fix today, and its obvious that this particular area is smoke free. Perhaps we could move to somewhere more amenable? Not to mention, but I believe Mr White over there is a little antsy... You know how much he hates economic meetings. "

Whisper of course as referring to the newest member of their team, a young Jedi by the name of Aleister Mianar.

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Two weeks earlier.

Aleister Mianar was a Jedi alone in the world. He had completed his training with Master Dolash, Found out that Han Skywalker, former Sith, Former Jedi Master, was his father, and now, his stalker of sorts, as Han had returned to this plane after his death to guide his son to not make the mistakes that he had made.
When he had first left Coruscant, after the assasination of his adoptive parents, during the Reaver invasion, He wound up on Yavin, where he found his fathers gear, and was directed Dolash. After spending several months with Dolash, he had been released to go forth as a Jedi and learn from the world.
He didn't know much, but, he remembered the friendly rebels on Yavin and had made his way back there.
The Men there had questioned his motives in returning, ever paranoid, but, over the last two weeks he had proved his loyalty to the cause, and here he stood. Whisper had taken him under his wing to teach him parts of the spy game, and he had learned in leaps and bounds that not everything in the world was a white and black as the Jedi and Sith would have you believe, but he kept to his principles. He recognized that the missions these troops went on were necessary for the protection of the Galaxy, and they had invited him to join them.

-------------------------------
Present Day:

Aleister looked up at Mr Black, (Whisper) and chuckled.

"Oh come on, You know that stuff will kill you...can't you just wait till we're outside of a building so we don't all have to deal with it?"

"Stuff it White" Whisper gruffly responded, blowing smoke in his face. The young boy almost reacted, but remembered his inner training and let it go.

"Alright, Gray, if he's gonna do it, we might as well get to somewhere where he can so he'll stop bitching, neh?"

Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, Sullust System

The massive crimson wedge drifted into realspace several planetary radii from Sullust. Shortly after the battlecruiser reverted into realspace, the bulk of Inferno Fleet reverted to realspace just behind the Husdant. Bandor strode the walkway, issuing orders among the cacophony of bridge crew members.

"Status report," demanded the bothan.

"All ships are present-"

"-we are just out of the gravity well as according to plan."

"Broadcast on all open channels alerting all civilian ships to get the hell outthe area, or be prepared to get blown to smitherins..."

"-entering the orbit of Umnub-"

"-CGTA is actively reflecting sensor scans away from the fleet-"

"-last of the fighters launched, for now-"

"Shields now online..."

As the fleet entered orbit around Sullust's smaller and abandoned moon, Inferno Fleet went to battle stations. Gunners prepped and rechecked their weapons. Starfighter pilots and sensor operators continually checked for signs of enemy vessels. One thing was certain, Inferno Fleet was ready to shed blood as red as their ships.

Reshmar stood in the CIC Room Deep in the bowls of the Hawkeye looking over detailed halo text scrolling down one of many Halo Panel Displays. He knew this was a must win situation for the Alliance. He had served for three years now and this was the first time the entire Third Fleet was assembled into one battle group. A large six digit timer counted down to the hyperspace reversion time. Officer of the watch, Commander Stinj, called the minutes as they cranked down. Reshmar closed the data he was looking over as Stinj called the two minute mark. the time cranked down rapidly as the six digits hit Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero. A small shutter in the bulkhead was the only evidence that the Ship had made the reversion from Hyperspace to Real space.

Seconds after the Reversion, Raymond Mosses image popped up on the forward Halo Panel. As a representative of Stellar Enterprises He had assumed temporary Command of the Hawkeye. He would assist the Admiral in the search for a new line captain and help the crew with the new systems aboard the ship. Reshmar looked up as Mosses spoke.

"Admiral, We have entered the Sullust system and have taken up position at grid co-ordinates M-17 behind Lununmo's largest moon. I await your orders Mosses out."

Reshmar watched as the display closed and returned to the blank black stand by pattern it had when not in use. One by one each of the ship of the Third fleet began checking in and reporting their readiness. Reshmar opened up the center halo display and set it to system view.

He could see the star Sullust at the center of the display. The the Gas Giants Sullumun, and Lununmo and their many moons. The asteroid belt which slowly and sparsely circled the Sullust system. Then Sullust herself and her moons Sulon and Umnub. then finally out on the far reaches of the system were the binary planets Mumunubb and Munumubb which where nothing more than large asteroids.

As data began to scroll, small icons began to appear representing all the ships of the Third fleet. Shortly after other icons appeared colored in red indicating a unknown threat Level. As the data Continued to Scroll down the left hand side of the display more and more icons appeared on in the halogram. Reshmar turned to one of the officer.

"Launch the Hat Colonel."

Wing Commander Dodson immediately got on the comm channel and ordered the defensive wings be launched. Moment later smaller Icon began to appear indicating individual squadrons and fighters. The clarity and precision of the new equipment on the Hawkeye amazed Reshmar. She was truly a beacon for the Rebels. A tool for peace in a time of war.

“Sir, I’m getting some weird readings from Sector Six.” The young sensors officer turned slightly towards his commanding officer, Lieutenant Darrst. Darrst was an Imperial’s Imperial, born on Bastion some years after the Battle of Yavin. Graduated the Imperial Academy only last year, and was stuck here, on this hole of a planet, in charge of monitoring the sensors. Planetary Defense Coordinator, he thought derisively to himself. What a load of bantha dung.

“What sort of readings?” he asked, not really interested, but following procedure anyway. This was Sullust. Nothing had happened here, well, since the Rebels had launched their attack on Endor.

“I’m not sure, Sir. Whatever it is, it’s in a sensor shadow. We’re only getting glimpses, but it looks like it might be a ship, or more than one.”

Darrst was fully awake now. “What?” He quickly made his way to the officer’s station. “What is that?” he asked himself.

“Is there a problem?” came a new voice, the last one Darrst wanted to hear. He closed his eyes briefly in a mix of exasperation and fear, straightened, and turned slowly. The hard face accented by a jet-black uniform and two white lightning bolts on either collar confirmed the fear in the pit of his stomach. SS.

This one was Captain Baric of Imperial Schutzstaffel Internal Security. How he’d ended up in this role, monitoring the activities of Sullust, Darrst had no idea. He’d arrived recently, after the loss of Coruscant, and Darrst still hadn’t gotten used to his presence. If the reputation of the SS was anything close to the truth, and Darrst had gotten no indication from Baric that it wasn’t, this was a man to be feared.

“Sir,” Darrst replied, “We’re picking up a sensor anomaly in Sector Six. Not sure exactly what it is, but it may be a ship, or more than one.”

Baric’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you not inform me immediately?”

Darrst blinked. “We just discovered it ourselves, Sir.”

Baric stood silently staring at him for a moment, and Darrst felt that feeling in his stomach grow. Finally, Baric nodded. “Acceptable, Lieutenant. Let me see that report.”

The SS Captain accepted a flimsy printout of the readings and pursed his lips. “Lieutenant,” he said, “get me a secure comm.”





“So, Colonel, what do you think?” Colonel-General Wesley Vos leaned back in his chair, his feet on his desk. With any other subordinate in the room, that would be a great breach of protocol. But Colonel Selere was no ordinary subordinate; he was an old friend.

Selere shook his head. “Can’t be sure, Sir. It’s definitely something. Might be what we’re looking for. Worth pursuing.”

Wes nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Are the Bellerophon and Azurius still incommunicado?”

Selere nodded. “Yes, Sir. They’re nearly at the staging point, but by the time we can communicate with them and make the jump to Sullust . . . Well, frankly, Sir, we’re a lot closer. We have a straight shot.”

Wes closed his eyes for a minute. Both his undamaged fleets were en route to examine a possible sighting of Cree’Ar ships near Nirauan. All he had here were the two fleets that had been engaged at Coruscant and his new Executor-class Super Star Destroyer, the Tyrannus. Those two fleets were both at half strength, and what was left was pretty beat up. He frowned.

“I think we have no choice. Order Admiral Typton to assemble the fleet, and send in Lieutenant Kenor.” When the latter had entered, Wes ordered a comm line be established with Admiral Gilford and be patched through to his office.

“Admiral Gilford,” Wes said when the man’s face appeared before him, “I’ll need you to release part of the Borderland Fleet to me. There’s a disturbance near Sullust that may well be alien activity similar to what we saw at Yaga Minor and Coruscant.”

Gilford’s eyes narrowed. “You have your own fleets, don’t you?”

Wes glared at the man. “You know full well that my fleets were badly damaged at Coruscant, Sir, and that the other two are already on assignment. The Borderland Fleet is closest remaining intact fleet. I do not want to engage those aliens again without at least a semblance of equal forces.” After giving Gilford the coordinates, Wes signed off. The fleet would be at the rendezvous; Vos knew Gilford was a jerk at times (all politicians were), but he was too military-minded to let something like this go uninvestigated, or to let Wes go into what might be an alien trap at less than full strength.

Twenty minutes later, the SS fleet, the SSD Tyrannus in the lead, made the jump into hyperspace, their destination Sullust.

Sullust

It is a difficult and dangerous task, the building of an anti-Imperial resistance. Having a large family helps.

And the Sovv family was very large indeed.




Jorn Vekk was the first son of Sien Sovv's ninth wife with her fourth husband. He didn't think himself a particularly bright young man, often secretly wishing his mother's second husband (Sien) had been his father. To be a true Sovv would be an honorable thing, indeed. But he supposed he would have to settle for being only this close to the man who would lead all of Sullust to freedom.

“Ready to go, little brother?” Looking across the cramped space of the hovervan, Jorn returned the friendly smile weakly. He liked when Vickin Sovv (Sien's third child by his first wife) called him “brother”. She was an impressive leader; he was honored to be counted among her team.

“Of course, Captain.” He stifled a laugh as he used the title, and his “big sister” returned the sentiment.

She patted him lightly on the shoulder as she stood to move through the cramped space. “Alright, boys and girls. Weapons hot, stay alert. We're almost in position. No fireworks unless I give the order. And remember: once it starts, it doesn't stop until Sullust is free.”

Their little squad of freedom fighters wasn't all that large. There were nine of them, including Jorn and their leader, “Captain Vickin”. Jorn was pretty sure there were other friendlies nearby, waiting for the commotion to start, but Vickin was undoubtedly in charge around these parts, so they were probably waiting for her word to move, part of some larger plan the young freedom fighter wasn't privy to.

Of course, their objective wasn't to hold some patch of cavern and declare “here be sovereign Sullust.” Their objective was much more practical.

And of course, they weren't the only team with practical objectives . . .




The Byllurun Spaceport sat directly next to the capital city for which it was named. Byllurun, buried beneath a mountain to shield it from the violent forces of Sullust's surface, was at nearly the same elevation with the starport, attached to it by a network of gently sloping tunnels.

Spaceport security was supplied by the SoroSuub Corporation, unsurprisingly, meaning it answered ultimately to the Free Trade Directorate. Most of its members, anyway.

Borin Jell slid his security card through the reader and waited the seconds for the guard on the other side of the door to confirm his authentication. As he stepped into the room, Borin offered a friendly wave and took his seat. Surrounded by surveillance displays covering the whole facility, the half dozen men and women in this room were the first line of defense against . . . well, pretty much anything.

Five of them would have to go.

Borin checked his chrono: it was time. He tapped his neighbor on the shoulder and pointed at a particular display, asking him to watch it for a moment. The other man nodded as Borin got up, presumably to get a cup of water.

The blue rings that flashed through the room seconds later were the first militant acts taken on Sullust to ensure the world's freedom. He quickly dragged the limp figures out of the way and bound them in case any of them awoke prematurely.

Borin Jell opened the security door and saluted his approaching rebel commander, the second son of Sien Sovv's second wife.

“Status,” Durk Sovv called.

The remainder of the newly arrived team set to work immediately.

“I've got team one in sector 4-B.”

“Team three is in position.”

“Team four's moving now.”

“Team two has cleared the checkpoint, undetected.”

“Team five is entering the starport now.”

Borin checked each surveillance feed as the team members called out their marks. He nodded to confirm the observations and watched as Durk Sovv's features stiffened into an unreadable mask.

Everything was in position. It would begin soon.




The Imperial garrison on Sullust operated a starport for its complement of TIE-series fighter craft. The Free Trade Directorate, however, had contracted with the Imperial military to service and maintain the port and its fighters.

To Drall Kul, “service” meant something not found in the company manual. While not a direct member of the extended Sovv family, he nevertheless felt himself belonging to the heritage of his many and varied cousins.

He had been activated by his resistance cell just over a week ago. Along with a friend in the work detail, the mechanic had set about sabotaging the enemy fighters, one cannon at a time. He worked his secret craft during the standard maintenance rotation, rigging the TIE lasers so they would burn out with the first full charge of weapons fire.

With the Trade Directorate handling system customs and security, these Imperial fighters only saw action during full-system tests, the next of which was not scheduled for another few months, and (far less commonly) actual combat.

He wasn't able to get to all of the TIEs without raising suspicion, but nonetheless when the battle began overhead, the Empire would find itself with woefully reduced fighter capacity. Many of these TIEs were going to be nothing more than Twin Ion Engine lifepods.







Sulon


Harah VoRill released an animalistic roar, his hand closed around the throat of the Trade Directorate commander who had been caught between their simple hammer and anvil maneuver. There were a few dead in the streets, Directorate security who had dared believe they could hold their exposed ground long enough for reinforcements to arrive. The delusion hadn't held for long.

Now Harah's force was setting up in the spaceport, barricading themselves against the inevitable counterattack. Government House, its main door battered but unbroken, had been abandoned, its use expired. Small teams were fanning out through the city, taking up locations of concealment and awaiting the arrival of their foes.

“Come,” Harah said at length, forcing the captive to stand by a carefully measured application of force.

“Where are you taking me?” The Sulustan captive asked, his discomfort obvious.

“I promised not to hurt you if I didn't have to,” Hara said.

The remainder of the Directorate security force was being herded into the spaceport, where they would be loaded into the cargo holds of several freighters and detained until the conflict was at an end. Friends within the Sullustan resistance had ensured they would adequately serve their role as makeshift prison.

Harah wasn't exactly in charge here, but he wasn't answering to anyone, either. As he released his grip on his hostage and allowed the captive to be carried away and detained, another Sullustan approached, this one quite free and sporting a uniform greatly resembling that of the New Republic.

Kalar Sovv and his small detachment of Sullustan rebels were here to ensure that the Ramplish weren't slaughtered outright. While they possessed an innate warrior spirit and had some skill in basic tactics, they were far from trained soldiers, and Sien Sovv wasn't the kind of man to send thousands to their deaths for personal gain.

Kalar was here to ensure as many of them―Sullustan and Ramplish―survived as possible.

And then the air filled with the distinct sound of repulsorcraft. Directorate reinforcements had arrived.

Kalar Sovv's heart sunk at the sound; this would not be an easy day.

But beside him, an animal glee overtook Harah as his mind grasped the true value of this moment:

Their headquarters are all but emptied.

SoroSuub Headquarters, Sulon

The team all sat in a meeting room offering a vista of the dismal landscape of Sulon with its gray rocks and scrawny vegetation. The buildings around the area seemed to be similarly stunted, as if their potential years ago had never been, or would be, reached in a state of aged childhood. It had been a terribly boring landscape for the rebels as they awaited for Sei Maru. Apparently some local security matter had distracted him.

“Nice outside, isn’t it?” mentioned another team member.

It hadn’t been nice before they came in. Gray clouds seemed to oppress the ground, occasionally bombarding it with a light drizzle of what supposedly was rain. Save that the rain that Sturm knew and love wasn’t an electric green. Sturm glanced out of the window. It still looked potentially miserable, as if they were at the edge of a storm. But then he saw something that did brighten his day: SoroSuub security rushing from the headquarters to their speeders. Some of them even zipped away without their crew fully strapped in. Safety. Who cares about that? He caught the eye of the speaker and offered a knowing glance.

“By the maker,” said Sturm, “it must rain asteroids where you’re from.”

“They’d actually be meteors then,” corrected the first man.

Sturm shrugged, “Technicalities. They’re still rocks…”

The door slid open, admitting a portly sullustan. Sturm sighed. That’s not Maru. Come on deGrasse, if you couldn’t do this, you could’ve just said that getting an audience with him was impossible…The sullustan strolled over to the only real business man in the entire group.

“I’m sorry Mr. deGrasse, but I’m afraid a local matter is going to have to postpone the meeting…”

“Are you sure he can’t spare just a minute? You know, to set up a meeting tomorrow, perhaps?” said deGrasse.

The sullustan hesitated, “Perhaps. Come with me.”

As the two started to walk out, deGrasse motioned for Sturm and another member to join them. The Sullustan frowned.

“Why are these two coming along?”

DeGrasse’s eyes bored into those of the alien, “That guy is my secretary. It’s his job to know dates and take down notes. And he is my bodyguard, whom I’m inclined to take along wherever I go. Especially since the area is apparently suffering security problems large enough to warrant a cancellation of our meeting…”

The sullustan grumbled his assent. Three hallways and a turbolift later, the quartet entered a fairly large room with a central holo-projector displaying a firefight at a building which Sturm had recalled seeing earlier when they had passed through town. The resistance fighter glanced around the room. Let’s see…not a lot of security, probably all got scrambled to deal with whatever local problem…this isn’t coincidental, is it? Just happening to have a security problem which draws most of their troops away when we need to get at them? Anyways, that sullustan looks like the only one armed. DeGrasse started to stroll over to the room’s door, causing the portly sullustan to frown. Sturm quickly walked to Maru in response. By the maker, we’re doing it now? Like this…well, here goes nothing. DeGrasse hit the button on the door, snapping it shut and locking it down. Nearly simultaneously, Sturm whipped out his pistol from inside his jacket and pulled the trigger: a trio of blue stun bolts slammed into a pair of Sullustans right next to Maru. He tapped the trigger again, knocking down Maru’s bodyguard as the alien attempted to draw his own weapon. That other guy better have my back right now… The body guard collapsed onto the floor unconscious. Sturm pointed the weapon at Sei Maru.

“Sir, I’m afraid you’re coming with us now,” said Sturm sternly.

The resistance fighter snatched a comlink from the sullustan leader’s pocket before he could activate it.

“I’m sorry Mr. Maru,” apologized deGrasse, “they made me do it. If I don’t do what they say, they’re going to kill my daughter-”

Sturm glared at the business man, “You, shut up.”

(Concurrent in time with the previous post by Sturm)

Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, in orbit via Umnub

“Dude, you don’t do her like that. You didn’t transmit anything to that part, did you? Because that would be really, really bad….”

“No, but…well…how then? Since you’re the expert in this technique…”

“Here, let me show you.”

Bitter red lights bathed the innards bathed the crimson walls of one of the Husdant’s CURSE modules, only to be broken up the occasional soft blue glow of several holo-projectors upon whose terminals Bothan slicers and other Inferno hackers feverishly worked on. One of the older Bothans, a veteran of the Bothan Spynet, pointed out a blip orbiting Sullust on the holo-projector.

“That’s an Imperial communication’s satellite, or so it would seem. It’s harder to break through for what we’re doing, and we could alert them to our presence if we screw up, maybe even if we don’t. So we don’t even bother, much easier to take this satellite instead. The Imps aren’t going to keep too much of an eye on satellites that aren’t their own, particularly when our new network only uses a fraction of those in orbit…”

The Bothan deftly tapped a few keys on the projector, simply using the brute computing power of the CURSE to simply overrun the civilian satellite’s firewalls before it could react. CURSE subroutines temporary blocked all outgoing message ports aside from the one being used by CURSE itself. Nearly simultaneously, another preprogrammed routine subverted the satellite’s security software, turning it into a tool to take control of the satellite’s programs. Fei’ter ignored most of that, focusing on programming a new communication’s port into the hidden program files list to set it up with the rest of the Inferno net. If it ever was discovered, it would be using the same name as the diagonistics channel. But whereas the real diagnostics channel transmitted to a ground station, the false one transmitted to another hi-jacked satellite, which transmitted to another, which transmitted to a recently launched civilian comm. satellite set up by an Alliance front company, which in turn transmitted it to the Husdant. The human hacker watched the process intensely.

“And so that’s how we get our weather satellite? A bit much to simply get a forecast…”

The Bothan tapped a button, reverting the satellite to typical standard operating procedure. Back on the ground, its operators or the computer that ran it would find that their communication’s link had been restored, likely the error of weather interference or a ship passing through the tightbeam transmitter. Fei’ter hit another button, taking control of one of the satellite’s cameras.

“Take a look at that,” said the Bothan, motioning at a blotch on the surface, which a CURSE analysis computer began to resolve.

“A defensive gun of some sort,” said the hacker, “doesn’t look quite as heavy as a LNR, but that’s nothing to scoff at…”

“I’m going to set up a relay of its position and status to Inferno Fleet control, set it up under automatic observation, see if we get any change of in it. Powering up should show up pretty nicely on the infrared, you know, with the heat of such weapon…”

“Things are looking pretty good,” said another Bothan, quietly approaching from behind the pair, “I’m assuming we have a nice reconnaissance satellite network now?”

Fei’ter took Sei’lar away from the station, letting the human hacker continue on the next phase of the electronic warfare.

“We do,” said the slicer, “we have satellites of the surface covered by taking over their meteorology and astrography satellites. But we’ve done better, Sullust traffic control has a handful of traffic control satellites they keep up as back-ups…”

“And?”

“We managed to activate them and spoof its signals as network diagnostics chatter.”

“Meaning what?”

“Well, it’s passively connected to the entire network, in case any of the satellite’s fail and need a back-up, so it’s already monitoring traffic control’s data stream…”

Sei’lar nodded, “So we are listening in on anything they say or do, like local Imperial warship movements in orbit, for example?”

“Yes,” said Fei’tar.

“Intelligence is nice and all, and it certainly corroborates with what we get from the probes, and even provides depth of info where we had none, but what of L337?”

“The marker is being set up through another traffic control satellite,” stated Fei’tar, “don’t worry, it’s already in its host. The team over there is just busy covering its tracks and rerouting it through other elements of our net and the groundside Sullustan Resistance networks.”

“How can you be so sure that is going to work?” said Sei’lar.

“Nothing is guaranteed, but there’s no reason not since its been before. Tell me, did you ever here about the rumors of how the Imperials last defended Sullust? Supposedly, an Imperial spy managed to board and hack into the Majority's Will ? I mean, that’s impressive stuff. The guy wasn’t a hacker by specialty, was working by himself with only a single datapad, and had to contend with Imperial programming that had been modified by the Diversity Alliance. We have super computers, the best slicers of the Spynet, and pre-programmed subroutines designed to take care of Imperial programming.”

“It’s all standardized?”

Fei’ter nodded, “They all upgraded their ships with a general fleet upgrade a while back to keep their software and computing software up to date. So the base operating systems are all pretty similar given the technological plateau of the galaxy, never mind the need to be able to able to transfer interpretable data from one ship to another, especially with their new-fangled battle computers and what not. And parts of Imp programming haven’t exactly been difficult to get a hold of because of the wreckage of countless warships from battles past and ongoing…”



Meanwhile on the bridge…

“…the net is coming up nicely, we’re getting some very solid passive readings from the satellites, we have the local Imperial fleet reading up nice on the sensors, really corrobating well with what the Dark Flame has been transmitting us…”

Dha’tey nodded. I bet Reshmar is loving the nearly live feed he’s getting from us, I hope. The Bothan admiral leaned back in his chair.

“Alter our course for the shot. Tell the Riflemen and Crimson wave to get ready to change their orbits apart from the rest of us. Engage ECM Bursts across the fleet.”

No sense in letting them get any solid targeting data for either their anti-orbital guns, if they can even hit us, or their fleet when we eclipse Umnub…

“Aye sir.”

The artillery frigates of the Fleet began to pull up slightly from the rest of the formation and to the left. The starfighters of the fleet pulled to the right and sharply downwards. Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet hugged closer to the moon and slightly to the left. Two minutes passed before the fleet dispersed. Using the classic gravity slingshot maneuver, the mass of crimson-tinged starfighters and a pair of Cerberus-class Attack cruisers flung themselves at the Imperial defense fleet in orbit, suddenly among the Imperial fleet. Meanwhile, the artillery frigates catapulted away from the moon and Sullust to sit just outside the gravity wells of the planetary system in under three minutes. In doing so, they clearly made themselves visible to Imperial eyes and sensors alike. They presented their crimson broadsides to the opposing fleet, and opened fire: patterned streams of Chain Ion Projectiles marched towards the enemy even as the starfighters began to clash.



Hunter-class Starfighter Mako Nine, in the midst of the local Imperial defence fleet

A single Kalrechi stopped its weaving, continuing its strafing run on a smaller Imperial capital ship. The chain ion projectiles of its entire squadron combined with its missile fire overwhelmed the ship’s shields to disintegrate weapons and other external components. Rush quietly swore at the cap ship pounder. Nearly all of the Inferno Fleet’s Kalrechis had been concentrating on eliminating the smaller Imperial cap ships present first. That is, those that were most likely to possess anti-starfighter capabilities.

“Stay on target Red twelve,” admonished Rush, “I’ve got your back, but it’s a bit hard to keep it with your jinking and the Crescent Flame’s ECM bursts…”

The Cerberus cruiser and its partner completely fouled up everyone’s sensor readings for the area. Targetting computers were nearly useless, forcing everyone to rely on visuals for any luck. This was great news for Kalrechis, as it effectively suppressed a host of automated defensive anti-starfighter banks said to be used by some Imperial cap ships, and hitting capital ships without targeting wasn’t nearly as difficult. But for the Hunters, it made things rather difficult. Ties were hard to hit to begin with already. Fortunately for the Hunters, the Imperial starfighters suffered the same problems as their Inferno counterparts. Red Twelve made a straight flightline for once, leading one of its pursuers to make a straight beeline for the vessel to get off some accurate shots, but in doing so, it made its own flight path easy to predict. Rush snapped off a flurry of ion bolts at the opposing starfighter. The bolts passed through the Imerial’s shielding, wrecking havoc on the starfighter’s systems. Partially disabled and without any sensors, the Imperial starfighter was easy pickings was for another ion salvo, completely disabling the craft, and consequently nullifying their ability to fight in the battle. Red Twelve quickly turned around, using the now disabled fighter as a shield against ship fire from an anti-starfighter battery on one of the enemy vessels. Rush manually lined up his starfighter to point at the same anti-starfighter. He pulled the trigger, sending off another flurry of ion bolts. The ion bolts hit the anti-starfighter battery, burning out circuit boards and creating a host of system malfunctions within the battery…



(Concurrent in timing with Mako Nine…)

Cerberus-class Cruiser Crescent Flame, somewhat in orbit around Umnob

Syfonne felt the cruiser surge past the flank of the Imperial fleet as Umnab’s gravity well drew them back closer to the moon’s orbit. The ship was already fast to begin with, but augmented by gravity pulling it back towards the moon, it was nearly a flash of light. Because of its high relative speed and ECM, the chances of getting hit by anything, and hitting anything in turn, was rather slim for the most part. But nonetheless, the Crescent Flame sent out a torrent of plas-blast missiles at a nearby frigate, several of which beat down sections of the shielding by a radiation overload. Yet only a few of the heavy disruptor batteries of the Cerberus cruiser had the time or position to take advantage of the gap. The one that did, however, put a smoking hole where a turbolaser battery once stood. Imperial turbolaser fire fell upon the cruisers, hitting more of the Cerberus cruiser than the Cerberus hit them by the sheer numbers of turbolasers firing, but still largely negated by the hit-and-fade nature of the strike combined with fouled up sensors. Syfonne barely acknowledged a report that one of the cruiser’s compartments had been breached and was venting air. Instead, he stared at the tractor beam projector operator’s console.

“Got it,” said the Quarren, “and so does the Flaming Wind.”

Syfonne glanced out of the viewport towards the other red ship as they passed by the Imperial fleet’s rear and its ensuing dogfight. Between the two Cerberus cruisers stood a single Imperial corvette-sized vessel, chained to the Inferno cruisers by their tractor beams, dragged along by the immense momentum of the two faster going ships nearly four times its size, and struck at by the blue bolts of the cruiser’s ion cannons. Subsystem after subsystem crackled and failed under the blue lightning. Think we’ll get away with our new little prize?

(1 hours before to the previous post by Kre'fey)

From the Flight operations station, Reshmar could hear the twenty four e-wing fighters report as they had launched and taken up position around the Hawkeye. The fighters spread out and one by one took up a stationary position awaiting orders from the other side of the room he could hear the sensor technicians calling off new contacts as the showed up on the scanners.

"Commander, Launch the Ferrets and Longbows. Have them take position and begin transmitting once they have reach their designated staging zone."

The Commander wasted no time and within seconds small icons lit up on the halo display.

"Ferrets away Admiral. Longbows prepping for launch."

Lash watched the twelve small icon as they moved away from the Hawkeye towards Sullust. The trip to the life zone of the Sullust system would take twenty seven minutes. once in orbit they would begin tracking all traffic and one by one identify the unidentified targets now lit up on the tactical halo display. Reshmar saw the first of the eighteen longbow fighters show up on the display. a minute later twelve longbow a-wings and six longbow y-wings had launched and began their trip to the asteroid belt between the Hawkeye and Sullust. Their advanced sensors would assist the Ferrets in cataloging the targets and monitoring the system for any activity.

"Admiral, forty seven minutes and fifteen second until we have full scanning capability sir. All ships have been given their final jump co-ordinates and await your jump orders. Contact has been made with Inferno fleet and they has sent tactical data from their sensors. we are decoding now."

The Chief Sensor officer turned back to the sensor technicians to continue to monitor any new contacts or transmissions. The tight beam feed from Inferno fleet was decoded and analyzed before the data was uploaded into the Hawkeyes computer. Once it was a group of red icons turned green. Data began to scroll down the screen.

"Any chance of interception Commander?"

Lash knew it was important to have the tactical data and the locations of the other fleet but not at the cost of letting the imperials in on it. The chance of interception was very low. The enemy would first need to know exactly when the transmission was to be sent down to the nano second. and have a modulated receiver tuned to the exact frequency of the beam to receive the transmission. Then the matter of the twenty four digit access code made the opening of this data next to impossible even by the best hackers in the galaxy.

"I am certain sir, no ship were in position to intercept the transmission."

Reshmar felt relief and set his mind back to the business at hand. All around him the best men he could assemble worked at preparing the data he needs to plan the battle. Data streams and information constantly streamed down the side bar of the display in front of him. He looked up to make sure the longbows were on schedule and that the information from the ferrets was being received as they moved into position and began transmitting.

"Five minutes until the last of the longbows is in position admiral."
Reshmar nodded to the officer calling the time then went to the refresher station for a drink of water. It would be a long battle and he wanted to be fresh and not dehydrated. He walked up the stairs and around the wall separating the stairwell from the short foyer to the bridge. At the center of the bridge Raymond mosses sat quietly looking over data as it scrolled down the forward panel. Reshmar walked onto the bridge and to the command chair.

"Admiral, How nice of you to join me. How can we be of assistance?"

Reshmar looked around the bridge and took in the room in a glance. all around men and women worked at consoles much like the ones in the tactical command center. the panels along the wall showed different images of the system and the outside of the ship.

"Mister Mosses. I want to thank you for assisting us. I know this is against your better judgment and not a chore you took by choice. You have prove to me to be a man of your word. I entrust the safety of my ship, my crew, and myself to you. I hope after this we can both leave with the same good will we have at this time. I will return to my station, my the force be with you Mister Mosses."

Reshmar returned to his command station and looked over the data now streaming from Inferno Fleet. One by one the red icons on the tactical display were assigned ids and threat assessments.

"All contacts identified admiral."

Reshmar ignored the sensor chief and watched the display. Inferno fleet was making its move. The icons representing the vessels of inferno fleet began to move and within minutes the Battle was engaged.

"Mister Mosses, move us out from behind this rock and take us threw that opening in the asteroid belt."