Somewhere in the outer-edges of the Core Worlds

"Sir, the hyperspace drives are starting to overheat. They are threatening to fail!" shouted the chief navigator onboard the Imperial freighter Anson.

"Bring the vessel out of hyperspace immediatly!" shouted back Commander Glenson, his eyes wide at the potential prospect of being trapped in hyperspace until they smacked into a stellar object.

The starlines stopped elongating past the viewport and returned to their normal pinpricks of light as the bulk freighter emerged from hyperspace, and not a moment too soon either as a crashing sound could be heard from the rear of the vessel.

"Engineering, report status," ordered the Commander as he stood up from the bridge and started pacing around his chair.

"Bridge, Engineering, the motivators have gone out sir, along with the sublight engines. I don't know what caused it, but we aren't going anywhere anytime soon under our own power," reported the chief engineer.

"Lovely, just freaking lovely. Petty officer Galz, commence scanning of local space, I want shields up and weapons online." ordered the Commander.

Power thrummed through the ship as the shields came online, and the weapon turrets located along the length of the ship began to swivel about their mounts, looking for any potential targets.

"Umm, Commander? We have multipule contacts heading in our direction. Most of them are of minimal captial class sized, but there is one vessel at an estimated nine hundred meters in length," reported the sensors officer.

"It gets even better eh? What do we have on our hands exactly?" asked the commander, his eyes squinting as he stared out the forward viewports at distant twinkling points of light. These lights were not stars, as they were glowing larger, meaning they were approaching his command.

"I read one Victory class star destroyer, and perhaps ten smaller vessels, ranging in classification as corellian corvettes to gunships to escort frigates to unknown," said the sensors officer.

"They sure aren't Imperial with that configuration. Okay, send a distress signal to N'Zoth, informing them of our location and request reinforcements and a tug," ordered the commander.

A few short moments later, the communications officer looked up to the commander and informed him that the message had been sent as ordered.

"Now, send a hailing message to the approaching vessels. Tell them we are having engine troubles, and request identification," said the commander.

A few tense moments later, the communications officer glanced up at the commander.

"No answer sir. I sent the message three times, repeating it twice, but got no response after five minutes," said the communications officer, beads of sweat beginning to pop out on his forehead.

"All right. Let's go to general quarters, and have the men man their battlestations. I'll be damned if they steal our load of turbolasers and concussion missiles that were meant for Imperial warships in the Koornacht Cluster. We will wait for them to open fire, but let's concentrate on the smaller warships first, before working our way up to the larger ships. Have the troops standing by to repel boarding action," ordered the commander.

Alarm klaxons rang through out the ship as soldiers rushed for the external docking locks, while crew men ran from their bunks to either weapon, sensor, or other stations. Engineers stood by to repair any damage incured, while medical staff prepared to treat incoming wounded.

At a range of one kilometer, the Victory class ship opened fire, followed soon by her consorts.

"All gunners, engage at will," ordered Commander Glenson.

* * *

Three hours later, in the same area of space where the crippled Anson had reverted, several more Imperial ships appeared out of hyperspace. One Imperial Mark V class star destroyer, the Tarkin, four Pa'al class light cruisers, and one Feram class fleet tug, dropped out of hypersace into the system.

The overall commander of the rescue task force was Line Captain Howe, his flag onboard the Tarkin. Upon reversion starfighters were launched and the vessels prepared their weapons and shields for possible combat, while scanners scoured nearby space for the Anson and her attackers.

After several moments, the scanning officers glanced up from their stations and shook their heads at Captain Howe.

"Sorry sir, no signs of the Anson or of any active vessels. We do see signs of debris wreckage scattered around the system though," reported the sensor officer.

"Bring it up on visual," ordered captain Howe. He slammed his fist onto the armchair, berating himself for being too late to the rescue of the Imperial freighter.

An image came up on screen, showing a gutted CR-90 type corellian corvette, as well as pieces of other starships scattered around the general area. The thermal scans showed that the corvette's reactor was still warm, indicating it had only died a short time ago.

"At least the Anson took some of the bastards with her. All right, deploy shuttle crews to scour through the debris, I want all information to be gathered, including bodies. I want to know where that damned ship came from," ordered Howe.

"And send a message to Imperial Center. Inform Fleet Command of this development," said the captain, as he retired to his quarters to write up a report of what he found at the scene.

N'Zoth

The Tarkin exited hyperspace, emerging back into her home system of N'Zoth. Space was teeming with ships and activity above and around the planet, with warships, commercial freighters, space stations, and shipyards all moving about. The Anson had been bound for one of the shipyards sitting above the planet, which had another Imperial Mark V class destroyer sitting in it, mostly completed, but with her weapon emplacements largely bare. Only the STL cannons had been installed, being that the turrets had to be built into the destroyer rather than being added onto it.

Line Captain Howe was back on the bridge by the time the destroyer had reverted, and was ready to give his report to whoever it was that would be taking this operation over. That is, if Imperial high command deemed this freighter destruction or possible hijacking worth the effort of investigating further. Imperial freighters or merchants hired to haul Imperial goods went missing fairly often around the galaxy, and it was nearly impossible to look for every one of them.

But Howe couldn't imagine Imperial center not looking for a freighter that had a load of such valuable weapons being stolen, which unless those weapons were recovered, would mean the completion schedule of the Piett would be pushed back by a few weeks while replacement weaponry was manufactured and again shipped in to the shipyards. Or, the Piett could ship out to the manufacturing planet for fitting out, but it would be dangerous to move a newly completed warship with only a minimal amount of weaponry. Enemies of the Empire abounded everywhere.

The wreckage that they had recovered indicated that the Anson had not been destroyed, although hull plating that belonged to the bulk freighter was found in the area, indicating that it had been involved in a battle. But more importantly, the tracking number from the destroyed CR-90 corvette, three Y-wing class snubfighters, and a number of bodies having been brought onboard and identified, revealed the location of where the attackers had come from. The voice of the chief communications officer brought him out of his musings.

"Sir, message from N'Zoth local command. They are asking for your audience onboard the Fuhrer," reported the chief petty officer.

"The Fuhrer? That would be the Regent class destroyer you see in lower orbit. I haven't seen her in a while," commented the captain, before bidding the bridge crew farewell for now as he headed down towards the shuttle bay.

Several minutes later the captain was seated comfortably in a seat onboard an old Lambda type shuttle as the ship extended its wings and left the landing bay to head away from the Tarkin and towards the Fuhrer.

* * *

Regent destroyer Fuhrer

Commodore Marx Brand of the Imperial Navy had been working on a new program of his when the signal from Imperial High Command had come for him, directing him to drop whatever he was doing and proceed with best discretion towards N'Zoth. The report mentioned only something about a missing Imperial freighter which needed to be recovered. Once he had arrived in the Koornacht Cluster from Byss, he had been brought up to speed by the local governer on the situation.

So now he stood in the shuttle bay of the destroyer, as the Lambda ship from the Tarkin settled onto her struts. Brand was a little nervous, not about meeting the captain, so much as wondering what had happened to the freighter. Although he wouldn't mind seeing action again, he secretly hoped that it wasn't the Coalition or another galactic goverment getting involved in Imperial affairs. He was starting to get a little tired of their meddling in affairs, it was getting too easy to beat them. They really needed to lay off and try rebuilding before making another offensive.

The ramp of the shuttle lowered, and into the landing bay emerged Captain Howe, with an honor escort of four Imperial stormtroopers.

"Line Captain Howe," said Brand in the way of greeting, a grim smile coming to his face as he offered up a salute.

"Commodore Brand, it has been a while," replied Howe, returning the salute with a small smile of his own.

"What is your report on the whereabouts of the freighter?" asked Brand as the two of them began walking towards the Commodore's quarters.

"Well, from the wreckage and bodies we have recovered, it appears that the freighter has been hijacked or captured by inhabitants of the Imperial colony world of Targorr," reported the captain as they entered into a hallway.

"Targorr, an Imperial colony world? I have never heard of it," remarked Brand as they entered into his personal quarters.

"Targorr was settled by colonists from N'Zoth around the time of Endor. Because of the bloody methods of the Yevetha, Imperial colonists who would have settled there ended up heading elsewhere to seek new homes. A colony of about one hundred thousand, from a couple of large starliners, ended up on a lush but small tropical climate planet that they named Targorr," explained the captain, taking a seat on one of the lounge chairs.

"Interesting. So it was a Palpatine era colony. So, what happened to the colony world for it to be out of contact for so long?" asked Brand, although it was more of a rhetorical question than an actual question. But Howe answered anyways.

"Old records that I dug up from the library onboard the Tarkin indicated that the colony had been cut off after the Yevetha uprising, and the Empire, which had its hands full with the Rebellion and all, never got around to re-estblashing contact with the colony," replied the captain, clearing his throat as soon as he finished talking.

"Where are my manners? Would you like some refreshments?" asked Brand, getting up from his own chair and walking over to the wine cabinet.

"A small glass of Corulag Merlot, if you don't mind," replied the captain, accepting the drink a few moments later with a nod of thanks. Brand settled back into his own chair and took a sip of his own Corellian ale before continuing.

"So what evidence did you uncover that linked the planet to the ship hijacking?" asked Brand.

"The wreckage of the corvette's navicomputers indicated it came from the coordinates of where Targorr is located. The corvette itself had old Rebellion registry numbers on it, and had been listed as missing in action in some old archives we recently recovered from Onyx. But of a more interesting note, the corvette had a registery of ships that it was assigned to, and one of the vessels was a Victory type destroyer, the Olanji. While I've never heard of the vessel, she could be the Gallant, which had been assigned to guard the Targorr area of operations," explained the captain before stopping and taking another sip of the wine.

"Interesting. So what we are dealing with would be another rogue warlord type of thing, although from the sounds of it, the Empire abandoned the planet, rather than the planet going away from the Empire," speculated Brand, finishing his drink with one last gulp.

"That about sizes it up. Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. Imperial warlords can be nasty to get involved in a battle," commented captain Howe as he too finished the last of his drink.

"Well I guess that sums up your report. Very well captain, you are dismissed, and I will call on you if I need anything else," said Brand, rising from the chair to shake the captain's hand.

"You are most welcome sir, and I will see you again hopefully sometime," replied the captain as he shook Brand's hand, before leaving the chambers.

Brand was now alone, and started to think about how he was going to deal with this situation.

Onboard the Fuhrer

How much troubel can an old colony cause? thought Brand as he paced his personal quarters.

Their initial population was two hundred fifty thousand, and that was some fifty years ago or thereabouts. Assuming optimal growth, there could easily be a million people there now. At this thought, Brand stopped pacing and started out of his quarters, heading towards the bridge.

I'm sure that they have the Gallant in their hands, the captain's report confirmed that much. But if it wasn't, perhaps they have two victory destroyers. It seems they have a fleet capable enough to take on an Imperial bulk cruiser. They shouldn't be taken lightly, and they won't.

His mind made up, Brand arrived on the bridge of the destroyer a few moments later. He headed straight for the communications officer, and handed him a sheet of flimsiplast.

"Send this message, with my name attached, to the ships listed on the bottom. I'm issuing recall orders for half a dozen warships to this position," ordered the commodore before he walked away, not even bothering to hear the Lieutenant's affirmation of his orders.

"Captain Jarka, I need your presence in the conference room. Invite the shipboard starfighter boss, the top squadron leaders, and the top five stormtrooper commanders onboard this vessel to the room. Everyone is to convence within ten minutes time," ordered Brand.

Taking his orders to heart, the commodore made his way down to the conference center, only making one stop along the way to order refreshments for the room from the mess hall. In five minutes time he had arrived at the conference center and seated himself at the head of the table.

Already there were the squadron leaders, the starfighter boss, and captain Jarka. As soon as the stormtrooper commanders arrive, this meeting could get underway.

* * *

Somewhere near Byss

The Venator class troopships Glory and Albion were finishing up a simulated assault on an asteriod hangar type base when the signal came in from the Tarkin.

Line Captain Leklo had been left in command of the force when the Commodore and the Tarkin had departed a few days ago, with orders to finish up the program before retiring to Byss.

"Sir, communications coming in from the Tarkin. They are issueing a recall order for the Glory and the Albion, the signature of Commodore Brand is attached," reported the communications officer onboard the Glory before handing the note to the captain.

"Very well. We were just preparing to depart to Byss anyways. Let's get a course change set in, and we shall depart for N'Zoth immediatly," replied the captain before heading off to his duties.

* * *

Convoy MX-140a, arriving in orbit over Coruscant

The Rapier-II class gunship Firestorm was at the head of a convoy of ten merchant ships, each one in the ten thousand gross tonnage range, carrying foodstuffs needed by the planet's population. The captain of the gunship was in the process of handing over command of the convoy to the local garrison when the signal came in over the communications relay.

The officer in charge of the communications handed the captain a note a few moments later, showing the orders for their recall to N'Zoth. The captain read the note for a few moments, then crumpled it as he looked out towards the planet.

Damn, and here I thought I was going to get a little R&R after this run...

"Send a signal to the Glaxon, Havoc, and Orion, have them come about on our heading, and prepare to jump into hyperspace. It looks like we have date with a Commodore at N'Zoth," ordered the captain, to the groans of the bridge crew. It appeared he wasn't the only one wanting to get a little time away from the service...

Onboard the Fuhrer

Commodore Brand had come out the meeting a few hours later, feeling satisfied with the results. The first order of buisness was organizing the assault fleet that would be descending upon the world of Targorr within the next standard week. The recall orders had been sent out before the meeting had started, and so the ships were on their way here.

Right now through, he needed to get some rest. The day's events had worn him out, and having an arguement with the top stormtrooper commanders on how to conduct a ground assault always left him weary. Rounding another turn in the corridor, he came face to face with Lieutenant Tracy, who commanded one of the turbolaser turret directors on the secondary bridge.

"Good evening Commodore, I hope everything is well with you today?" asked the Lieutenant, a shy smile and a slight blush coming to her lips. Brand had a feeling that she was attracted to him. Perhaps it was the gray beard that he sported?

"Yes Lieutenant, everything is just fine. How have you been doing lately?" asked Brand in turn, returning the smile that she had shown him. He admitted that she turned him on as well, she wasn't the most beautiful of women, but she wasn't ugly either, and Brand liked her cheery attitude. Such a rare thing to see in women who are promoted to higher ranks in the Empire, most of them usually attain that rank by being too overly friendly with the superior officers or just plain ruthless.

"Good sir, very good," Tracy replied.

"Well, I'd better get going. Be sure to run a status check soon, I imagine we'll be heading into combat soon enough," ordered Brand as he saluted and continued walking down the corridor, missing the snap salute that she returned to him.

Well, he didn't feel quite as tired as he did earlier.

* * *

N'Zoth orbit

Traffic was expected to enter into the system soon. The recall orders that had been issued to the various ships went through the local command station, so when several starships appeared out of hyperspace in system, their appearance didn't come as a suprise to the local commanders.

"Sir, the ships are now broadcasting their IFF signals. They are shown as friendlies and unknowns," reported one of the sensor station officers.

"Unknowns?" questioned one of the commanders as he walked over to the sensor station.

"Yes sir. IFF signal on the Vicstar Deuce labels her as the Gallant. But there are a number of other vessels in formation with her, size two hundred meters or less, small capital class. Sir, the vessels are now launching starfighters," reported the sensor officer, his voice sounding a little suspicious now.

"Something isn't right here. Take us up to yellow alert. Get me the Fuhrer, direct line," ordered the commander.

* * *

Brand's personal quarters, onboard the Fuhrer

Brand had no sooner laid down in his bed and closed his eyes before the comm started beeping. He opened his eyes and looked around before they feel on the beeping comm unit.

He had a nasty thought about what he would like to do first to the comm unit, then to the person who was beeping him. He dismissed such thoughts as he sat up and answered the comm unit.

"Who is it?" he demanded in an angry and tired sounding voice. Okay, so maybe he hadn't ridden himself of all the angry thoughts just yet.

"Commodore, sorry to disturb you, but we are getting a request from the local commander to talk to you," said the communications officer up on the bridge.

"Which one?" asked Brand in reply, a very good question if you take into account the number of commanders belonging both to local naval, army, and planetery defense forces.

"Commander Delvis sir, in charge of the planetery defense force sensor stations," answered the communications officer.

"Okay, put him through," said Brand, sitting up on his mattress now.

"Commodore Brand? This is Commander Delvis," introduced the man who sounded a little on edge.

"Is there a problem I can help you with commander?" asked Brand, a little more irritation creeping into his voice. This had better not be just a casual call.

It wasn't.

"Sir, we've gotten strange identifications on several vessels that have entered into the system. One positive ID we can ascertain is a VicStar Deuce called the Gallant, along with several unknown IDs. Sir, are these the vessels you issued recall orders to?" asked the commander. Brand's eyes grew wide as he recognized the name of the Gallant, and suddenly the commodore was up and getting dressed.

"Commander, listen very carefully. Issue a red alert to all in-system forces, but do not take offensive action against these vessels. I will take care of them myself," responded the commodore, as he finished getting dressed in a hurry and ran for the door.

Interesting...

Onboard the Fuhrer

Commodore Brand had come out the meeting a few hours later, feeling satisfied with the results. The first order of buisness was organizing the assault fleet that would be descending upon the world of Targorr within the next standard week. The recall orders had been sent out before the meeting had started, and so the ships were on their way here.

Right now through, he needed to get some rest. The day's events had worn him out, and having an arguement with the top stormtrooper commanders on how to conduct a ground assault always left him weary. Rounding another turn in the corridor, he came face to face with Lieutenant Tracy, who commanded one of the turbolaser turret directors on the secondary bridge.

"Good evening Commodore, I hope everything is well with you today?" asked the Lieutenant, a shy smile and a slight blush coming to her lips. Brand had a feeling that she was attracted to him. Perhaps it was the gray beard that he sported?

"Yes Lieutenant, everything is just fine. How have you been doing lately?" asked Brand in turn, returning the smile that she had shown him. He admitted that she turned him on as well, she wasn't the most beautiful of women, but she wasn't ugly either, and Brand liked her cheery attitude. Such a rare thing to see in women who are promoted to higher ranks in the Empire, most of them usually attain that rank by being too overly friendly with the superior officers or just plain ruthless.

"Good sir, very good," Tracy replied.

"Well, I'd better get going. Be sure to run a status check soon, I imagine we'll be heading into combat soon enough," ordered Brand as he saluted and continued walking down the corridor, missing the snap salute that she returned to him.

Well, he didn't feel quite as tired as he did earlier.

* * *

N'Zoth orbit

Traffic was expected to enter into the system soon. The recall orders that had been issued to the various ships went through the local command station, so when several starships appeared out of hyperspace in system, their appearance didn't come as a suprise to the local commanders.

"Sir, the ships are now broadcasting their IFF signals. They are shown as friendlies and unknowns," reported one of the sensor station officers.

"Unknowns?" questioned one of the commanders as he walked over to the sensor station.

"Yes sir. IFF signal on the Vicstar Deuce labels her as the Gallant. But there are a number of other vessels in formation with her, size two hundred meters or less, small capital class. Sir, the vessels are now launching starfighters," reported the sensor officer, his voice sounding a little suspicious now.

"Something isn't right here. Take us up to yellow alert. Get me the Fuhrer, direct line," ordered the commander.

* * *

Brand's personal quarters, onboard the Fuhrer

Brand had no sooner laid down in his bed and closed his eyes before the comm started beeping. He opened his eyes and looked around before they feel on the beeping comm unit.

He had a nasty thought about what he would like to do first to the comm unit, then to the person who was beeping him. He dismissed such thoughts as he sat up and answered the comm unit.

"Who is it?" he demanded in an angry and tired sounding voice. Okay, so maybe he hadn't ridden himself of all the angry thoughts just yet.

"Commodore, sorry to disturb you, but we are getting a request from the local commander to talk to you," said the communications officer up on the bridge.

"Which one?" asked Brand in reply, a very good question if you take into account the number of commanders belonging both to local naval, army, and planetery defense forces.

"Commander Delvis sir, in charge of the planetery defense force sensor stations," answered the communications officer.

"Okay, put him through," said Brand, sitting up on his mattress now.

"Commodore Brand? This is Commander Delvis," introduced the man who sounded a little on edge.

"Is there a problem I can help you with commander?" asked Brand, a little more irritation creeping into his voice. This had better not be just a casual call.

It wasn't.

"Sir, we've gotten strange identifications on several vessels that have entered into the system. One positive ID we can ascertain is a VicStar Deuce called the Gallant, along with several unknown IDs. Sir, are these the vessels you issued recall orders to?" asked the commander. Brand's eyes grew wide as he recognized the name of the Gallant, and suddenly the commodore was up and getting dressed.

"Commander, listen very carefully. Issue a red alert to all in-system forces, but do not take offensive action against these vessels. I will take care of them myself," responded the commodore, as he finished getting dressed in a hurry and ran for the door.

Interesting...

N'Zoth outer system

The Gallant and her taskforce of two escort frigates, four gunships, and one bulk cruiser were cruising towards a commerical space station in the outer part of the planetery system when Brand arrived on the bridge of the Fuhrer. A quick update on the situation found that the only thing defending the space station were a pair of TIE-2 Fighter squadrons.

"Let's go to battlestations. Helm, bring us out of orbit and head for the enemy taskforce. Issue the same orders to the Tarkin. Prepare the fighter crews for immediate launch," ordered Brand as he took a seat at his command chair. Alarm klaxons sounded through the ship as the crew went to their stations and other personnel prepared the ship's complement of starfighters for launch.

"We won't be able to reach the station before they do," commented captain Glaxon, standing next to Brand.

"We won't need to. Our fighter crews should suffice for taking that task force on. They may suffer losses, but better them than the hundreds onboard that commerical space station," replied Brand, his voice sounding strain. Although he may have sounded cruel about the fate of the fighter pilots, Brand was secretly worried about the prospect of losing men, but he knew his duty.

As the bow of the Fuhrer lifted out of orbit, another distant arrowhead also lifted away from the planet. That would be the Imperial Mark V Star Destroyer Tarkin, heading for an intercept herself.

"They may be able to throw a wing of starfighters up for defense. We'll have two wings, plus the fighters from the commercial station. Order the Tarkin to launch her squadrons for an attack. I want every single fighter and bomber in our hangar bays out there in less than a minute heading towards the Gallant," ordered Brand.

"But sir, what about our own fighter screen?" interjected the captain.

"We'll go cold turkey for a few minutes, but N'Zoth is sending up fighter squadrons to defend the station. We'll borrow a few squadrons from them for our screen. But saving that station and those Imperial lives is number one priority, even to the safety of this vessel, captain," shot back Brand.

"Yes, of course sir," replied the captain a little sullenly.

Below the Fuhrer boiled squadrons of TIE-2 Fighters, TIE Defender Mark Vs, and TIE Scimitar attack bombers. There were six squadrons aboard the Fuhrer, four of fighters, one of defenders, and one of bombers. After taking a few seconds to form up into their respective units, the starfighters streaked off into the darkness of space, the glowing of their twin ion engines the only seeable feature as they faded into the distance.

The sensor officer began fidgeting when new targets started appearing on his screen. Enemy bogies, coming from the Gallant and two escort frigates.

"Enemies are launching starfighters. TIE Fighters and Interceptors sir. It appears to be about eight squadrons into total. They are forming up one kilometer forward of the Gallant," reported the sensor officer.

"Acting as a screen for their vessels? Ok, designate the Defenders and half of the TIE-2 squadrons for space superiority fighting. The rest of the TIE-2s are to escort the Scimitars in for their assault runs. Primary target is the Gallant, secondary target is that bulk cruiser," ordered Brand.

"Sir, IFF signal for the bulk cruiser lists her as being the Anson," added the sensors officer.

"Well, there is our smoking gun right there. Order the bombers to disable the Anson," added Brand.

"And on second thought, communications!" yelled Brand over to the other side of the bridge.

"Yes sir?" asked the communications officer.

"Send a signal to our reinforcements. Have them change course to meet us at Targorr," said Brand. The communications officer acknowledged and went to work.

"Commodore, our fighters and the Tarkin's are meeting up with the fighters from the commerical station. They are now commencing an assault on the enemy squadron," interrupted the captain.

"Okay, this is it," commented Brand as he leaned forward to watch the battle on the holoscreen.