Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, Trax Sector

“There’s no reason to hold out any longer; you’ve done your duty. Why do you need to be a hero? There is no-one here to see either your heroics or your practicality…”

Lieutenant-Commander Thrakis dared to open his eyes; only to be blinded by the blazing white light. He shut his eyes again with a moan; it was if he had looked directly at the sun. He involuntarily tried to jerk away from it, but the cuffs held him firmly in the chair. The voice’s source continued to hover and circle around him; chiding him, cajoling him, sympathesizing with him, advising him, doing nearly everything possible for a voice to do.

Except be silent.

He thought he made have heard the voice change a couple of times, appearing a couple of times to be a protocol droid.

But he could be hallucinating.

He was sure he had not sleep for over a day.

“…what do we need to do Mr. Thrakis, to get you to talk? You are remarkably stubborn, or perhaps loyal if you would prefer. But it won’t do you any good. Fossk cannot get you now. But don’t worry, you are safe in Inferno hands…”

“Whatever did I do to you to deserve this? I’m just a prison warden, leave me alone…”

“Just a prison warden, Mr. Thrakis?” laughed the unseen voice, “you were the chief prison warden on the Lictor Dungeon Ship Atlas. You were in charge of thousands of souls, of prisoners, of guards, of common sailors. And you think that you had nothing to do with the Atlas’ operations?”

Thrakis murmured. “I just made sure everyone was safe from each other; no prisoners trying to beat up guards, no guards trying to beat prisoners. I was just doing my job, I mean, a man’s got to eat.”

“A man can do any number of jobs to eat; you’ll forgive me if your situation does not seem so necessarily desperate that you must be the chief officer on that ship…”

“Look, I was in this business for Fossk took over from the old Moff; that man was true to his word, only locked up the criminals, not these political threats that the Atlas was carrying. I didn’t like it any more than you.”

“Than why did you do it?”

“Why did you take part in their transportation?” coaxed the interrogator.

“I told you, it was my job. Take them, move about as the Rage’s captain told me to do, drop them off at Longwind.”

“Longwind? Why Longwind?”

Thrakis merely frowned. The interrogator’s voice cackled.

“You didn’t mean to give that away, did you? But you have, so you might as well keep talking. You’ll already be a traitor in their eyes. Execution for treason is my guess. You know what’s more important than that? You’ve just revealed that you know important information that mst people did not know, which means that we will use some of our precious Bavo Six supplies on you…A remarkably sadistic truth serum, but after all, that is Imperial engineering for you…but I imagine you know what that is.”

Thrakis nodded.

“Good. Then keep talking…”



CIC, Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, somewhere in the Trax Sector

“The prison ships were destined ultimately for Longwind,” informed Colonel Lawless, “to be dropped off at a newly-built labor camp. According to Thrakis, he’s already shipped prisoners there before to new labor camps.”

Dha’tey muttered and turned to the holo-projection.

“Why hasn’t your group been aware of this, Mai?” demanded the Bothan, “it is a rather important bit of information.”

“It’s not that easy,” rebutted the resistance leader, “As the Colonel will point out to you, the new labor camps are far away from civilization on Longwind. If the prisoners are moved from the Lictors by shuttles, well, then it would be nearly impossible for us to spot all of them, and even if we did, their destinations. Not without risking our own lives and our existence here. Heck, the our old base here from the start of the Galactic Civil War would probably have been had if we tried to.”

“Internal bickering and pointing fingers will not help us here,” interjected Sei’lar, “but we need the prisoners freed. Maybe smuggle them out, or something like that.”

“Well,” suggested Lawless, “if the old camps are as big as the new ones, then we’re dealing with thousands of people. It will take years at that rate, assuming that they don’t set up ways to counter the smuggling once they notice it.”

“That’s far too long,” countered Mai, “we have enough guerillas here that we can break open and rescue people periodically from the camps. From there, they can either join us or escape the planet by themselves. Or make a new life here on Longwind.”

“No,” sighed Dha’tey, “I do not see either of those options as being practical. In both cases, the TSA people on the ground are going to notice patterns or methods of attacks, and respond to them. Maybe even laying traps. Thus besides the time issue for the prisoners, we are playing Corellian Roulette with a missile launcher. We screw up just once, everything gets blown to bits. We need to do it one shot, so they do not have a chance to adapt.”

“That would require liberating the entire planet,” stated Lawless, “which, I suppose we could do with some work…”

“But the problem is that the TSA would simply reoccupy or conquer the planet within a week or so,” noted Mai, “fighting against the TSA forces already here would cost us a lot. We can’t simply do open war with them and not take heavy casualities, especially when they control the air and space. One orbital strike, and our base is obliterated if they found out about it from someone of mine that gets captured.”

“Fossk would straining his forces even more though,” countered Sei’lar, “we could play to our advantage, but he wuld do it anyways; set an example to the rest of the sector. Entrus might get away with it by the hostages and its shielding, and Essowyn can get away with it because of the massive numbers of troops and whatnot to subdue them, but Longwind has no such advantages. Too few people, too few places to hide; the problems of leading a revolution in agricultural world.”

“What if I could guarantee you space and air superiority for the planet, during and after the liberation?” asked Dha’tey.

“Can it be done?” questioned Mai.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Then we can take the planet and keep it free.”

Imperator-class Star Destroyer Rampant, in orbit via Longwind

Newly-promoted Captain Nicholls bumbled around the bridge, watching men and women clad in grey jumpsuits fix old and battle-damaged equipment or install completely new equipment in place. He quietly slipped closer to a younger Damage Control crewmember to eye her over. One foot edged closer…and another. A sudden loud thud reverberated throughout the bridge; the female tech pivoted away from the flight control console in time to see the new captain fall into the crew pit. Where he had stood moments before, an emergency light swung back and forth, partially unhinged. The woman rushed over to the captain and helped him up.

“Ah, thanks Tyria,” mumbled the man, “I guess I didn’t see that light. There’s just so much going on.”

“No problem captain; things are a bit of mess around here sir. That new ship tore the crap out of our rear…”

Nicholls frowned. “We would have beat the crap out of them if they hadn’t been so cowardly.”

“Of course sir.”

“Speaking of cowards…” said the captain, “Where the hell is Rogristo?”

“We haven’t heard anything from him recently, sir,” reported his XO.

“What was he last doing?”

“Checking out that probot that appeared on the outer reaches of the system.”

As Nicholls climbed up an emergency ladder back to the walkway, he complained. “And what? A mighty probot blew the crap out of him? It does take that much effort to beat the crap out a bot like that; the problem is finding the little buggers.”

“Frankly sir, his shuttle hasn’t reported back in yet. Like you’ve said, he’s late. I think we should consider searching for him.”

Leading his XO by the shoulder to the viewport, Nicholls shook his head. “Not yet. He could still be chasing after it. Or a certain enemy of ours has snagged him and his shuttle already. If that’s the case, we’re going to be very weak if we split up the fleet and fighters to find him. The Reds will have no problem carving up our fleet one by one…”

“And you’re worried about the rest of the fleet?”

“I am worried that no-one will be here to stop them from going there,” replied the captain, pointing at the glassy orb of Longwind, “And the last thing we need is for Fossk to cut off our heads for failing to keep his prisoners locked up, or if not, more Reds to fight against. If those convicts end up in the Reds’ fleet, their size could potentially double for all that we know…”

“Sir, a probot and a shuttle have reentered our visual range. I’m nearly certain that the shuttle is the Atlantis.”

Nichols frowned. “And why hasn’t Rogristo reported in yet? Basic incompentence, or being too afraid to admit it when dealing with a probot?”

“We have a new contact entering the defence web’s sensors. It’s big, probably about the size of our ship,” reported another officer.

Nicholls cursed. “The red terror. XO, get everyone to battle stations. We’re going to be going into a fight…”

“Yes sir.”

“How long until it is within firing range? And I mean our firing range?”

“Thirty minutes given its current speed…”

“Helm,” ordered Nicholls, “begin to modulate our engines, we’re not idiotic enough to stay in one place for their shells to rip us apart. Order the same to all other ships…”

“Our formation is going to be, well, not as tight, or much a formation if we do that,” cautioned his XO.

“I don’t care. We don’t need a repeat of our last encounter. Our formation was our problem then. If we don’t have one, we can’t say that we repeated our fault…again.”



Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, entering the Longwind system

“Only one probe detected out of two dozen,” mused Sei’lar, “that’s pretty impressive.”

“Not really,” rebutted Dha’tey, “most of them are scouting out dead space; shouldn’t be much traffic there to even see them. And we don’t know for sure if some of the probes have actually been detected, but they’re doing nothing about them. Some of them look rather civilian…”

“Because they are?”

Dha’tey nodded. “They are. They might have been dismissed as non-threats by the military, thinking that they’re actually DMC mining probes looking for minerals and what not in-system.”

“Sir,” announced a muffled voice, “the prisoner is here to see you.”

The Bothan spun about to face the Marine and his charge: a man dressed in a ragged gray uniform spattered with crimson and bandages. Two red and blue squares on his chest announced to the Bothan that this was an Imperial lieutenant of sorts. Dha’tey warily looked over the man, as if a consumer inspecting a piece of merchandise at a store before buying. Dha’tey’s hazelnut-colored fur rippled.

“Well now, you must be Lieutenant Rogristro. I am sorry that you ended up so hurt during the fight. I am Commodore Dha’tey,” informed the Bothan, stretching out a hand.

The man merely stood there, frozen like a statue, except for his eyes, which fluttered about like a fly trying to escape a building. Dha’tey cocked his head to his side; the marine prodded the prisoner forward with the tip of his blaster rifle.

“Ah…Tav Rogristro, of the Trax Sector Authority navy, ah…sir.”

“I see,” replied Kolir disinterestedly, “do you know where your ship is?”

“No.”

“It’s flying back towards the Rampant with a new crew. But don’t worry, you will be safe from your failure here. In fact, you may be able to receive a posthumorous commendation from the TSA and be able to start a new life, under a different name. But you have to do something for us.”

“Er…ah, well. What if I don’t?”

“We may space you through an airlock,” replied Kolir, “So will you help us? It will not take long…”

“What do I have to do?”

“You will provide us with every code you know within Fossk’s navy; starting with the flight code to enter the Rampant’s hangar bay.”

“…um, wouldn’t it be easier to pull it out the computer?”

“There isn’t much of that computer on the Atlantis after that little firefight between your crew and my marines. It seems to have been accidentally…seared.”

Rogristro winced. “All right, it’s-”

“Not to me,” interrupted Dha’tey, “but to our communication’s specialist. She will record it from your lips. Guard, take him to Specialist Ryries for that.”

“Yes sir.”

Imperator-class Star Destroyer Rampant, in orbit via Longwind

Nicholls hovered over the sensors consoles, watching the blips on one of the screens form into an intricate pattern of dots; with one labeled the Rampant at the very front. Directly to the star destroyer’s port, the Victory Star Destroyer Pussiant swung into the dual lead position to cruise in tandem with the Rampant. A smattering of customs vessels and other smaller craft formed up behind the two star destroyers to use them as shields. Nicholls spared a glance at different console, whose operator monitored the Husdant’s approach as seen from the defense grids’ satellites. Nicholls just turned away when that blip suddenly disappeared from view; the crewman shouted out of the crewpit.

“The Husdant has completely disappeared from the grid’s satellites.”

“What? Impossible...”

“Rogristro’s shuttle is requesting to dock within the hangar bay. It looks a little dinged up though.”

Nicholls shook his head, “He probably managed to hit a piece of debris or the probe when he was chasing after it. I’ll berate him later about it; in the meantime, bring him home. But nevermind him, why the hell would the red terror disappear like that? How?”

“Under any other circumstances sir, I would say that it could have taken a jump into lightspeed,” suggested the man, “but the satellites are not reporting any cronau radiation or hyperwave signals. It either has a cloaking device of some sort, or the defence grid has been hacked.”

Nicholls muttered. “It’s probably the latter. Makes me wonder if the Husdant was even there. At its last location, it would be nearing the extended sensor range of our own fleet-”

“Sir,” shouted an officer, “we’ve just lost all contact with the secondary landing bay; damage control is reporting widespread fires and decompression. None of the hangar crew are reporting in…”

“Well don’t just tell me that, take care of the problem.”

“Already on it sir.”

The XO murmured. “People aside, it’s not too great of loss. But that’s going to make logistics and repairing the ship a piece of personal hell…”

“Visual sensors have sighted the Husdant approaching the fleet; we don’t have any other sensor reading of it though.”

Nicholls shook his head. “A random explosion in our hangar and the Husdant arrives right at its aftermath? We’re being sabotaged, my friend…”



Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, entering Longwind’s gravity well

“Waste of a shuttle,” muttered Sei’lar, “could have used it to infiltrate something useful later on…”

“You have to admit though, the Atlantis made a rather nice bomb though,” countered Dha’tey, fur rippling, “the more they have to deal with, the more unexpected surprises, the better we will due against them…”

“Sir, we’re entering effective maximum range of the main batteries.”

“Batteries may fire at will; gunnery chiefs, keep the fire split between that Victory and the Rampant. We don’t need one of them getting to be too cocky…”

“I’ll remember that sir.”

The two Bothans quietly strolled over to the bridge’s front viewports. As they did, a flutter of bolts mottled in crimsons and tawnes erupted from the starship’s bow at the distant Imperial vessels which eclipsed the murky world of Longwind. Kolir began to fancy. It is as if we are riding the clouds of Armageddon; we are unleashing a storm of fire and brimstone at the Imperial yoke of oppression. I feel their power, their empowerment flowing through my veins. Beautiful and terrifying is judgement day. A quarren raised its raspy voice.

“The Imperial formation is scattering and taking evasive actions.”

The gunnery chief muttered, “We’re not ging to hit a lot of targets at this range…”

“But your people’s shots have broken their formation apart, which is as important,” informed Dha’tey, “particularly since our object is not to defeat them, but to make them easier to deal with for someone else…”

“Enemy capital vessels are retreating to orbit behind Longwind; they’re using the planet as a shield against long-range fire…”

“Enemy Ties, and lots of them heading our way…”

”Not quite what you wanted,” mused Sei’lar, leaning against the viewport, “inspiring too much power and fear can be just as much of a problem as being too weak to take them on. So what are you going to do?”

“Keep our starfighters in our hangars, make them think that we have a distraction or something going on elsewhere, keep them on their edge…”

Sei’lar shook his head. “That’s not going to change their attitude. We have to take a fall, or least seem to if we want to get them to attack…”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

Red bolts angrily slashed at the distant Ties, forcing the TSA fighters to engage in elaborate maneuvers to dodge the long-ranged quad laser cannons. A combination of size, maneuverability, and range ensured that most of the Ties evaded the Inferno Fleet attacks. Dha’tey’s amber eyes quietly gazed at the oncoming fighters with a mixture of anger and regret; he was so absorbed that he nearly missed the rippling of Sei’lar’s fur. Dha’tey turned his eye to the quarren officer.

“How many of them have fired at us?” questioned the bothan admiral.

“Five…more firing now…we’ll have the two dozen making strafing runs in about minute.”

“Set the countdown…now.”

Dha’tey turned back to the viewport, watching the Ties make almost ineffectual passes at the battlecruiser. Dozens of minute green bolts splashed onto the angry red hull as if mere water. As they did, the quad laser cannons of the battlecruiser sequentially fell silent and reoriented themselves. Dha’tey snorted. Do it already.

“…five…four…three…two…one…execute.”

The port side of the battlecruiser turned into a light show as plas-blast missiles emerged from the hull like shooting stars. As they did, the quad laser cannons erupted into patterned fire, with scant few bolts hitting their ephermeral targets: the plas-blast missiles. But enough hit, detonating the volatile plasma perhaps a second after they left their tubes. One missile exploded, dispersing droplets which not only melted through Tie Fighters, but also released the plasma from the other missiles. The resulting chain reaction bathed the entire starboard side of the starship in light, utterly decimating the strafing starfighters on that side and momentarily driving the Tie fighters on the other side away. A drizzle of plasma droplets rained down on the Husdant, hitting the RPAPS before bouncing off to diffuse into space.

“…now at 50% shields….shields now at 25%...starboard shields now lowered to 10%...”

“…last of the starboard weapons have been powered down…”

“…same for portside lights…”

Dha’tey nodded, “All right, let’s begin to limp away.”

Sei’lar’s fur rippled, “Do you really think this will work?”

Dha’tey hesitated, “I do not know. The Imperial commander surely will see the visual data from the other Ties and our limping away…it’ll look like a good chunk of side got ripped apart by the premature detonations…It is a hell of a good thing they have no sensor readings on our ship right now…”

“Enemy Ties are beginning to strafe the starboard…they’re concentrating fire on the bow of the ship…with our weakened shields sir…”

Dha’tey waved a hand, “Our shields will hold in most of the areas…wait…briefly drop one of the shield sections where they’re firing…”

The bothan was rewarded with seeing a minute explosion pop up like a pimple. A handful of quad laser cannons on the other side of the vessel returned fire, ripping apart the strafing formation. Sei’lar frowned.

“You killed them,” stammered the spy.

“I beg your pardon?” said the admiral.

“You killed two of our people when you lowered the shield…there were people in that quad laser cannon turret they slagged…”

“I had to give them a measure of success, both sides in their causes,” whispered Dha’tey, “the Imps inflict actual battle damage, and we gain two martyrs to our cause...”

“The Imperial formation is coming around…they are attempting to use the gravity well of Longwind to slingshot right at us…but they’re a little sloppy…”

Dha’tey stared at the projection of the two star destroyers giving chase to the Husdant.

“Rampant looks a little better since we last saw her,” mused Dha’tey, “looks like they even have some of their auxiliary engines back…”

“But not all of them, nor any of the engines under complete control, look at how they veering…”

Dha’tey shrugged, “It’s either inexperienced helmsmen, new/unfinished controls, or the engines like a mentioned. We didn’t exactly leave the Rampant with a finished bridge tower or stern the last time we parted…”

“The Pussiant looks good, and it doesn’t have a green command crew…I bet they have a lot of missiles with our names written on them…”

Dha’tey snorted, “They have to catch us first…wait…helm, gradually lower our speed by 35%...”

“Aye sir.”

Dha’tey glanced at the sensor blips…forgot about that one little detail…we’ll easily outrace both ships, but especially the Pussaint, if we move at full speed. And I doubt that our engines would be in exactly perfect condition if our top starboard side got hit as badly as we’re simulating...



Imperator Star Destroyer Rampant, in the vicinity of Longwind

Captain Nicholls stared at the flickering exhaust of the Husdant. He leaned back in the command chair. Finally…a lucky break…war is as much of luck as it is skill…I was skilled yes, but not as skilled as Peters…but unlike Peters, I did not become incinerated in the salvo that took the bridge last time we fought…no, we win by a mixture of luck and skill…and red terror, your luck has finally run out. He glanced at his helmsman.

“What are you doing?”

“Sir?”

“Lower our speed to match the Pussiant,” ordered the captain, “the reds might be wounded, but they have fight still left in them, I feel it. With their current speed, we can afford to cooperate with our comrades to finish the reds off easier.”

“But sir, they’ll be at a nav point in five minutes according to my plot…The Pussiant at her current speed won’t be there for seven minutes…they’ll have a two minute gap to make a jump out of here.”

Damn. Nicholls clared his throat, “And what time will we reach them at full speed?”

“Three and a half minutes.”

“Full speed ahead then,” decided the TSA captain, “begin firing immediately when we get into range.”

“Sir, the enemy battlecruiser is rapidly decelerating…”

Nicholls’ heart felt like it contracted like a shriveling plum. Are they that battle damaged? Or are we...? His eyes strained through the glass to see the Husdant turning to present its broadside to the star destroyer. Damn. Tiny flashes erupted across from the starboard side of the Inferno battlecruiser.

“Evasive actions!” snapped Nicholls, “how the hell are their starboard weapons working?”

“Their starboard shields are now at nearly a hundred percent-”

The seat rocked violently underneath his rear. Others were less lucky than him, being tossed into bulkheads or thrown onto the floor. The room seemed suffused with pure chaos by the shouts of surprise, the screams of pain, the discord of confusion. Nicholls swore. The cycle continues…the hunted becomes the hunter, again…

“Recall all fighters, and plot us a hyperjump out of here,” shouted Nicholls, “we’re in the jump zone now, are we not?”

“Yes sir…I have a plot for Lexroll all ready.”

Nicholls vigorously nodded, “Do it.”

“What about fighters, the Pussiant?” questioned the female tech.

The captain snorted, “I’m not about to take a half-repaired star destroyer into battle against that thing. We will die if we do not retreat, and Fossk will lose more people than anyone ever should…”

…and more credits. It is hard to repair a star destroyer as it is, much less completely replace one from scratch. The Rampant’s surviving guns traded fire with the Husdant. Red-yellow and green lines crossed the void of space, and through them all weaved the surviving TSA starfighters who had strafed the Husdant. Most managed to swerve out of the crossfire between the two starships, but some were not so lucky. The lucky ones surged towards the Rampant…too late. With reopened wounds, the star destroyer jumped out of the Longwind system to safety of Fossk’s capital. The starfighters, now pursued by the Hunters off of the Husdant, surged towards the Pussiant. But the Victory star destroyer, now hopelessly outgunned by a vessel twice her size, turned away in defeat to follow in the Rampant’s footsteps.

Prison Camp Beta Four, Longwind

Sergeant Lawless, followed by a squad of Inferno marines, ran through roaming circles of light projected by automated searchlights two kilometers away from him. The defenders could undoubtedly see them, that is, if they cared to try.

“Too easy,” mumbled Lawless into his comlink, “you think they’d do better than that…they’re running scared…”

“Definitely. We should have been fired upon already…we’re within range…”

As if to answer his question, two of the watchtowers burst forth with streams of emerald light. But none of it fell upon the Inferno Fleet troopers. Instead, it shot up into the night sky in seemingly random directions against foes unseen. The Hunters flying overhead returned fire in a massive barrage of missiles and slugs. Missiles slammed into the watchtowers, completely obliterating the outer ring of base defences before the various bands of Inferno Marines had a chance to converge upon them.

“We got company ahead of us…” whispered a voice via the suit’s comlink.

Lawless stared ahead. White suits ran out of the smoldering gates like imitations of ghosts. Stormtroopers. One of them pointed up at the air, and all of them fell to the ground mere seconds before a Hunter swooped ahead with its slugthrower blazing. The sergeant snorted. They’re so worried about our angels up there that they’ve forgotten about their main threat. Several of the white-armored men began to rise from the plain. He toggled his comlink.

“Eight, give it to them.”

“Yes sir.”

The heavy weapon’s specialist tapped the trigger on his grenade launcher, haphazardly placing a trio of grenades which encircled the detachment of guards with rising shards of ground and fire. Several of them fell under the attack, others still clung to the ground and slowly crawled, as if they were under attack by another strafing run. Lawless held the trigger on his light repeater, gunning down those who still struggled through the brush and craters. More weapons fire erupted from packets of Inferno marines converging on the main gates, cutting down most of the survivors. His comlink buzzed on the Inferno Fleet general frequency.

“Whiskey team rescuing evacuation immediately…”

Jogging through the camp’s gate, Lawless frowned. Whiskey team is one of our best…what the hell they did run into that air support couldn’t take care of? If they’re having trouble, we’re going to get it too…

“…vehicles are attempting to flee the camp at our area…we’re under attack by an AT-AT…”

Lawless shuddered. We do not have any heavy armor or any vehicles capable of taking on such a war machine. The only ground vehicles the Fleet ever employs are speeder bikes, and occasionally transport landspeeders. I bet the Hunter slugs are doing jack against that heavy of an armor…but still, one would think the missiles…

“…supported by anti-air units. I think they have an AT-AA with them, but there are least plastic men with PLEX’s…”

Crap. Lawless turned to face where Whiskey team was suppose to be. He could just make out the distant emerald lights of Imperial laser fire. Frak. He glanced at the status reports of other units through his HUD. Almost no opposition. It looks like the garrison commander through everything out Whiskey’s gate…they’re going to be decimated. Several of his own troopers stopped to observe Whiskey’s team predicament.

“Come on men, we’ve got people to rescue,” said the Sergeant, “we’ll let someone else take care of Whiskey. There’s little we can do anyways.”

But Whiskey’s leader refused to stop clogging up the airwaves.

“…do it command, we’ve got nothing to lose…”

Streams of blue lightning came down the skies, raining ionic disruption on anything and everything in the area. Emerald light ceased, and so did the scant few firings of the Inferno Troopers. Lawless paused. An ionic bombardment…everyone’s not going to be able to use any electronics…no blasters for anyone, nor any vehicles. Dha’tey’s voice flooded the airwaves.

“All ground units in Area A, move to coordinate A34 and wipe out any resistance immediately.”

Of course. We’re going to have to soak up the resistance because they’re more Imps than Whiskey team members…but at least we have blasters. Before Gabriel could utter a word, most of his team were already jogging towards the coordinates. Several Hunters swooped overhead, escorting a crimson transport. They’re landing the reserves there, and if everyone converges on them, the enemy group is surrounded, outgunned, and without weapons…it’s hopeless.

“Attention Inferno forces,” said Whiskey leader, “the Imperial commander in the area has announced his surrender to us. Repeat. The enemy has surrendered. Kindly don’t shoot the first plastic man you see…”