Nebula-class Star Destroyer Trojan, in orbit via Abhean

The white hallways of the Trojan gleamed again, much to the commanding officer’s pleasure. Over the last few months, the Trojan and several other warships had ran across known Confederation space, participating in anything from the Negoigations of Ter Abbes to the Battle of Eregion. During that time, the ship’s maintenance crew and associated droids did their best to keep the ship in good condition. But with work came damage. The crews had been busy mostly repairing minor damage across the starship incurred from going head-to-head with an Imperial Star Destroyer. Valeska considered the repairs more important than minor cleaning details, so some decks went unwashed for several weeks. Command finally authorized the Trojan to undergo a several week shore leave at the Abhean yards. Partly to give the crew a well-deserved break, partly to get the star destroyer back into tip-top condition. The break ended, and the refreshed crews found themselves energically going to work aboard a recently refreshed starship. Senior Captain Valeska strode the halls with her XO, chatting on their way to the bridge.

“I’ve heard he’s not that bad of a man.”

The dark-haired woman shook her head. “He’s from New Oceanus. He grew up there. I don’t know what High Command was thinking when they did that. He’s literally gone from riding animals and primitive steam machines to commanding Cavalier Destroyers. There’s a slight technological gap there. We should have given command to a Gamorrean. The alien would not only be as efficient as Jabarkas, but probably intimidating and unnerving to our opponents.”

“You’re forgetting that humans have a slightly higher aptitude for grasping new and advanced concepts than Gamorreans,” stated her male subordinate.

“I guess we’ll find out,” commented the woman, staring at their nearing destination.

Their pace slackened as the two Confederate officers neared a set of double doors. Each one was the same white as the rest of the Trojan’s hallways, but on the upper half was the Trojan’s crest: an ancient crested helmet in silver and gold with a similarly coloured Sword set vertically behind it. Underneath it were comparatively less elegant, stenciled letters in black that read: CIC. The man stepped forward, pulled the door open, and held it while his black clad superior passed through into the room. Murmurs and quiet talking engulfed the Command Information Control facilities of the Trojan. Officers and other command crew routinely performed their functions. Several consoles beeped, alerting their users to new commands and events. Valeska stretched out a hand as she neared the central holo-projector.

“Welcome aboard Commander Jabarkas.”

The man firmly grasped the woman’s hand and grunted. The former gunnery looked over the man as she did new recruits back at Abhean’s Naval Academy. Commander Zim Jabarkas easily stood two meters with a well-built frame and muscles obviously built from hard physical labour. A fact substantiated by his tanned skin. His olive eyes glanced at the woman with a flicker of amusement. Zim’s right, lower lip slightly curled upwards. So much for accurate stereotypes. He’s as crisp and professional as any other cadet I’ve seen from the Kashan Defence Academy. Maybe there’s something to that place. The visiting officer opened his lips, revealing a slight accent.

“I hope it will be a pleasure to work with you, captain.”

Valeska raised an eyebrow. Was that a pass? Or just a language meaning difference between galactic norm and his people? You’re not doing anything. The pale-skinned woman forced a tight, polite smile.

“I hope so as well. May I call you Zim?”

The black-haired man blinked quickly and glanced down at the metal floor briefly. “If you so wish, ma’am.”

“You can call me Val,” stated the Abhean woman, “we are equals in this mission, you and I, despite our rank disparities.”

“Err…yes Val.”

Valeska tapped a few buttons on the projector’s console. A holo sprung to life a rotating ball. Several large, artificial objects rotated synchrously with the darkish planet. Water and vegetation seemed non-existent. It was a harsh world. The former gunnery instructor opened her mouth.

“This is Thomork. During Palpatine’s reign, its shipyards produced warships for the Empire. A hive virus appeared on the planet once, leading to its evacuation and unoccupation until the virus burnt itself out. The Imps had it recolonized shortly after the Battle of Hoth, continuing to use its shipyards to build warships. Emperor Palpatine ended up having nearly five hundred workers executed on the planet as part of a ploy that a hive virus was returning. The planet was evacuated yet again, and the shipyards ended up building Silencer-1 and several other World Devastators. With the fall of the reborn Emperor, it’s former colonists came back; they found no trace of the hive virus, because it didn’t exist. What they did find was the survelliance tapes of Imperial stormtroopers killing the shipyards employees. Needless to say, the current colonists on Thomork aren’t too fond of the Empire. They’ve managed to build a sizeable navy with the shipyards. As you probably already know, we already have diplomatic relations with them. Thomork ships and Confederate vessels have been patrolling this area and co-operating against criminal elements. Recently, one of their starships disappeared, the Endurance-class Fleet Carrier Ark Royal. It was investigating a space anomaly in sector five, not too far away from our joint border. We are suppose to help them find out what happened to the ship. Their navy is already fielding warships in a search. Supposedly, Pro-Consul Thorn and Councilor Harding are on planet doing some other work.”

Jabarkas leaned up against the holo-projectors, looking at the planet pensively. “Did the Ark Royal get a chance to report in when it was investigating the anomaly?”

“As far as I know, the Ark Royal simply reported that it was going to take a look at an anonymous sensor reading. It just disappeared it. It’s odd, because that area of space is dead with major galactic powers, so I can’t think of anyone there that would be destroy it without getting our attention from our nearby listening posts. There wasn’t jamming or anything the area.”

Zim nodded. “So how are we going to protect ourselves from the Ark Royal's mysterious killer if we find it?”

“I have no idea. I guess we’ll just have to better than they are.”



Thomork

“Welcome to Thomork, ambassadors,” bowed an officer.

Councilor Harding and Pro-Consul bowed in turn. Christina Thorn quickly glanced about the landing pad. It’s like Oovo IV. Thomork looked dark from orbit, covered in ash and basalt from volcanic activities thousands of years ago. Some lava flows continued to criss-cross the planet like rivers. Ash still stirred in the air. Because of this hostile atmosphere, the planet’s colonists had opted to build all of their structures enclosed, as if they were in a vacuum environment. Durasteel beams with ceraglass planes covered all structures and cities above ground. Many cities, instead of having to modify their environmental bubbles expanded underground, making vast subterranean urban complexes.

“It is a pleasure to be here,” stated Councilor Harding solemnly.

Christina turned eyes to gaze above at volcanic ash passing above their enclosure. “It certainly is a remarkable testament to your people’s skill and tenacity to be able to live here.”

The black-clad officer smiled. “Thank you. You know, not many outsiders ever get to see the planet from orbit, nevermind step foot upon it. I think because of that, you will find yourselves more than welcome in the public.”

The Kashan woman nodded. After the massacre by the Imperials, they have been wont to let outsiders know of their very existence. The New Republic was never able to find them, as was most of the Empire. Only the reborn Emperor Palpatine knew of the exact coordinates to the planet. And now he is dead, with the secrets of Thomork’s location, no existence, with him. We only established contact by running across one of their naval vessels during a mission scouting for new hyperlanes. The trio continued through the heavy blastdoors that separated the landing pad from the outskirts of Visby, the capitol city. In the next corridor, an honour guard of soldiers formed a protective phalanx around the delegation. The assembled group passed through a second set of pressurized doors into the main city itself. The white clothed woman turned her eyes upward, marveling at the skyscrapers that rose from the ground. Landspeeders roamed across duracrete roads. Everywhere she looked, it seemed as civilization on Thomork was as advanced as it was near the Galactic Core. The only thing missing are the airspeeders. Maybe because an accident where one of the vehicles slammed and broke into the shield could expose the city to the outside environment. The group neared an Astral-8 landspeeder. It was a popular craft for upper class citizens across the galaxy, particularly in the Corporate Sector. But it was an old design, prompting the Pro-Consul to speculate if the last major outsider interaction they had had was several decades ago, right before the hive virus had supposedly struck. The doors opened, and Christina stepped into the luxurious vehicle just ahead of Councilor Harding.

Trojan, Confederate Patrol, deepspace

The white wedge of the Confederate Nebula-class Star Destroyer plowed through the starry void of space, with several silver vessels trailing in her wake. In keeping with standard Confederation procedure, starfighters zipped around the fleet and its perimeter, keeping a close watch on the surroundings. Occasionally, the flight pairs would switch in and out. This was not new to the Confederate crews. What was new was the intense alacrity on which they concentrated with on their sensors, adjusting, calibrating, reading, and interrupting the most minute detail on their monitor.

“I have a contact at point alpha six-niner,” reported an officer from the slightly recessed crew pit.

Captain Valeska quickly marched over from her command seat to the crew station. She could make out the forms of the Trojan and her accompanying escorts in the center of the Full Spectrum Transciever scope immediately. At the very top left of the circle, a single blip of an unknown object blipped.

“Does anyone else have a reading a reading at alpha six-niner,” questioned the former gunnery instructor.

The Dedicated Energy Receptor nodded. “I am reading relatively small power fluctuations in the area. Based on the fact that we can actually detect them at this range, it must be a capital ship or something of comparable energy output.”

Valeska nodded. “Launch a couple of Deathsabers to go investigate it. All ships to yellow alert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Several of the foremost starfighters that screened the small task force surged forward, their pilots euphoric with a chance to not only break formation, but also the 12 MGLT pace dictated by the relatively slower Trojan. Within less than a minute, the Confederate pilots had urged their craft to breakneck speeds by shunting most of their power to their engines and pushing the throttle full forward. The quartet of fighters began to splinter as each one made an approach on the target from different vectors. The blip grew increasingly larger on every one of the Deathsaber’s sensors. On the bridge of the Trojan, Valeska and her command crew watched the composite visual feed with bated anticipation on the CIC’s large holo-projector situated in the center of the room. Pilot chatter emanated from around the room as other sensor feed from the fighters was transmitted to various stations across the command center for improved analysis.

The Abhean woman pursed her lips together as a fuzzy, slate gray shape materialized into the holo-feed, gradually becoming larger and better defined. The blurred lines of the vessel became pointed and angular. It was indeed an Endurance-class Fleet Carrier. As The Deathsabers made passes over the Thomork warship, it increasingly became apparent that something was eerily wrong with the ship. A naval lieutenant quietly stepped up behind the woman and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

“Ma’am,” stated the officer, handing a heavy duty datapad to the woman, “I think you should take a look a look at this.”

The woman tore her attention away from the ghostly projection of the Ark Royal to scan over the datapad’s contents. Her lips increasing curled into a frown the farther she read. She slowly set the datapad down on a station’s counter and turned to the officer.

“Are you sure about this?” questioned the woman.

The man nodded. “Positive.”

She shook her head. “Then do you mind explaining to me how there is a warship standing in front of us with mostly powered shields and weapons, no engines, no external damage, and most oddly, no crew?”

The man threw his hands up into the air. “I have no idea ma’am.”

“Wonderful,” muttered Valeska, “well, inform Thomork that we found their ship and we’re going to investigate it a little more closely, probably by boarding it. The armor’s too thick to figure out anything else simply by sensors.”

“Yes ma’am,” bowed the officer, before quickly pacing away to relay the commander’s orders.

Valeska turned her grey eyes to the ghastly visage of the Ark Royal. What the hell happened here?

Hangar Bay, Trojan, Deep Space

A pair of well-disciplined squads marched side-by-side into the hangar bay. Their silver armor gleamed under the harsh artificial lighting of the starship. Various Confederate starfighters hung suspended on overhanging racks waiting to be deployed or littered the floor undergoing repairs. Droids and organic mechanics swarmed around the fighters, keeping them in tiptop shape. The Kashan marines ignored this activity, instead marching towards a Sentinel shuttle which was being boarded by a two squads of Paladin IIs. Several people dressed in dark gray, the shuttle’s crew, watched the infantry units board. Sergeant Maklos snapped a salute to the commanding shuttle officer and silently handed a datapad to the pilot.

The shuttle officer nodded as he scanned the datapad’s contents. “You too, eh? Might as well get on. We’re clear to depart in five minutes, assuming the droids can get in all right.”

The helmeted soldier gestured over to the droids. “Do you know why they’re coming aboard?”

The naval lieutenant rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I have no idea. They have the exact same orders as your men do. It’s probably in case something dangerous is onboard. Droids are a lot easier to replace than you and me.”

Maklos nodded in agreement, motioning for his soldiers to board the shuttle. The Confederate soldiers scampered up the ramp to take the remaining seats onboard the shuttle. The sergeant clambered up the ramp and took a seat along with the rest of his squad. He glanced around at the rest of his team, which was double-checking their equipment and weapons. On the other side of the shuttle, the black Paladin II droids hunched down motionlessly; waiting to be activated. Maklos broke his gaze from the automated warriors to double check the powerpack currently loaded into his blaster carbine. It checked out. The shuttle levitated and slightly banked, forcing the troopers to hold onto their straps. Through his visor, the Confederate sergeant scanned over his soldiers.

“Ready men?”

“Yes sir!” replied the soldiers, their response echoing among the shuttle’s hold.



Bridge, Nebula-class Star Destroyer Trojan, Deepspace

Captain Valeska stared out at the stricken Endurance-class Fleet Carrier. Her blue eys swept the exterior of the Thomork vessel. From a distance, the Ark Royal seemed to be identical to her Trojan. She knew that it was because both vessels were based on the same hull design, just arranged differently in terms of components and internal layout for their different roles. And she wondered if that could have been the Trojan out there instead of the Ark Royal. She let out a sigh of exasperation. Her execuative officer approached from behind her.

“Yes Veers?” questioned the former gunnery instructor.

“Captain,” stated the Lieutenant-Commander emotionlessly, “the flight group has launched for to begin its internal inspection of the ship.”

“Very well,” replied the dark-haired woman, “begin the ion strike.”

A pair of Sentinel shuttles soared below the Trojan towards the mysterious carrier. All around the transports, cyan bolts whizzed by’ the twenty ion cannons of the Nebula-class Star Destroyer began to bombard the local shield generators of the carrier’s portside hangars. Bolts of blue lightning fizzled across the hull of the Ark Royal, forming brief, sporadic webs around the hangars. A bright flash around the perimeter of the rectangular bay meant that the gunners had hit their mark; there would now be a small gap in the particle shields which the shuttles could penetrate. The air of Confederate shuttles wiggled their wings and proceeded into the main hangar of the fleet carrier. As they did, several bright flashes of light peppered the starscape; starships entering realspace from hyperspace. Valeska tapped a few buttons, bringing up the newcomer’s telemetry as gathered by the CAP of Deathsabers that currently patrolled around the perimeter of the two ships. Most of the emerging designs appeared to be of Republic Engineering Corporation design, with a speckling of other New Class ships. Their transponders read that they were part of the Thomork fleet. Valeska slowly nodded and turned to Lieutenant-Commander Veers.

“Those would be their compatriots. See if you can get me a line to their commander or commanders. We need to talk.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Hangar Bay, Ark Royal, Deepspace

The pair of shuttles quickly moved from cold vacuum, through the magcon field, and into the hangar bay of the Fleet Carrier. Lieutenant Kennedy, the Confederate shuttle pilot, blinked his eyes at the harshness of the Ark Royal’s internal lighting; it was quite a change from the darkness of space. Like the outside, the interior of the hangar bay was covered in heavy, white metal plates; undoubtably extra armor that the Thomork engineers had added to the original design in case the hangar was exposed to enemy fire. Starfighters of various makes littered the hangar floor in varying states of repair and conditioning. Above the floating shuttles were more starfighters neatly lined up on fighter racks.

It would have been a normal sight save for one thing: the inanimate bodies of mechanics, flight crew members, marines, and other Thomork service people. Most of them were sprawled together in huddled groups crumbled up into little balls or laying prostate on the floor. Disturbingly, some dangled from the hangar’s racks in what looked like suicide attempts. But there was no blood, no sign of disfigurement. It was as if they had all decided to take a nap on the job and had never woke up.

Sergeant Maklos wandered into the flight crew cabin, taking in the view of the hangar bay, analyzing the scene as the shuttles attempted to find a space to land on the crowded floor. In a mix of dread and awe, the shuttle crew glanced uneasily at each other, as if they were picking one among them to face some unseen Sith Lord in personal combat. The pilot spared a glance at Maklos, who motionlessly pointed up ahead.

“Parking spot,” stated the soldier dryly, “if I might suggest something to yourself and your crew, get some breath masks on, and full covering clothing if you have it. Looks like it could be some kind of gas attack.”

Several of the shuttle’s crew scrambled about to find the emergency greath masks found on all Confederate vessels. Kennedy returned his attention to piloting, noting that there was indeed some vacant space up ahead. The shuttle slowly extended its landing gear and settled down on the armored decks of the Ark Royal. Maklos grunted before turning back to rejoin his troops. Meanwhile, one of the shuttle’s crewmembers returned with the breath masks. Kennedy snatched one of them out of the ensign’s hands and quickly slid over his face. Seeing that all of his men were ready, Kennedy tapped his comlink.

“Sergeant?”

“Yes sir?”

“Are you ready to deploy?” asked the Lieutenant.

“We are.”

“I’m lowering the ramp then. Good luck.”

“Thank you sir.”

The Sentinel’s ramp lowered and the Confederate infantry scrambled out, carrying not only their blasters, but a variety of handheld sensors which they promptly began to sweep around, looking for something unusual. On the shuttles, Kennedy and his men promptly transmitted the findings thus far to the Trojan.

Bridge, Nebula-class Star Destroyer Trojan, Deepspace

“Absolutely positive,” replied the Abhean woman, “I’m having my communication’s officer transmitting to you right now.”

The Thomork Commodore briskly nodded. “Very good. We’re planning on sending our own team aboard the Ark Royal to verify your team’s claims…”

Valeska blinked noticeably.

“…not that we do not trust you, it’s a matter of policy within our navy. Moreover, our teams can validate the research of your people thus far.”

The former gunnery instructor nodded unfazed. There’s so much research in seeing bodies laying around on a fleet carrier. I suppose they’ll need to see it for themselves. The Maker help them. The Confederate captain opened her mouth and hesitated.

“I believe we may want to inform both our team’s about the other’s presence, just to make sure no confusion or friendly fire incidents occur.”

The commodore gravely nodded. “Of course. To be sure, we should exchange our group numbers and make-up. Just in case there is some sort of enemy within the carrier under the mask of sensor bafflers or something of the like.”

“I’ve dispatched a pair of Sentinel-class Shuttles. Each one is carrying two squads of Confederate marines and two squads of Paladin II droids. The marines will be wearing gray armor, somewhat similar in appearance to that used by Clone Troopers of the Galactic Republic. The droids are large, black, and humanoid shape.”

The Thomork man raised an eyebrow. “A purely military force? Didn’t it occur to you send to a medical team onboard?”

Valeska nodded. “It did, but we wanted to make sure things were safe for them first. We were in the midst of organizing a medical team when your squadron arrived.”

The Commodore nodded. “No matter, I’ll be sending some of my medical staff to take a look. They’ll be escorted by some our marines. All of them will be wearing Vacuum Suits. Do your people have transponders and readers for them?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. My team will all have the call sign of Red-hawk followed by a number.”

“Very good,” acknowledged Valeska.

“I believe that covers everything,” mused the Thomork man, “Good luck with this mystery.”

“The same to you,” replied the Abhean woman, “And may the Force be with you.”

The other man hesitated, smiled, and blinked out of existence as the transmission was cut. Valeska let out a sigh, swiveling her command chair to face her executive officer. The man spun about to face his Captain, slightly tilting his head to the side while looking at her.

“Well?” questioned the man.

“You’ve heard everything.”

The man nodded. “Shall I start relaying that information to the boarding teams?”

Valeska silently nodded, sending the Lieutenant-Commander spinning back on his heel to issue the necessary orders to the bridge crew. As her XO marched away, Valeska slowly turned back in her chair to face the Ark Royal. She spared a few glances at it, and tapped several buttons on her command chair, bringing up the latest updates from the boarding crew and the analysts’ opinions on what had been found thus far.



Six hours later…

Captain’s Quarters, Imperator Mk II Star Destroyer Ardent, Deepspace

“Welcome aboard Captain Valeska,” stated the Thomork officer, extending a hand, “I am Commodore Anarion Teleri.”

Valeska grasped the man’s hand and sized him up. He was an aging man whose hair was rapidly graying. Anarion’s watery blue eyes glanced at the woman in solemn understanding. His grasp tightened quickly as he shook her head before releasing as quickly came. Teleri solemnly nodded. Quietly, the man gestured the woman to take a seat in his quarters. It was a sparse affair, with mostly metal, functional furniture occupying most of the cabin, including a stack of old-fashioned filing cabinets. A few holos of family members and friends were neatly arranged behind the desk, which Teleri now sat behind, on a shelf. Valeska uncomfortably sat down, her attention focused on the older man, who deliberately opened his mouth to speak.

“Your crew did an excellent job of securing the Ark Royal; no doubt you have trained them well,” rumbled the man in gravelly voice, “when my medical crews arrived, they reported that your people even handed over their notes to my men. On the behalf of the people of Thomork, I thank you.”

The man slightly hesitated.

“Doubtless, you will want to know what happened onboard,” stated the Thomork officer, “Your men seemed to have noticed this, but there was an old light transport found onboard; a Ghrotc 720 to be exact. When we looked at the Ark Royal’s logs, we discovered that the ship’s last recorded action was the discovery of this ship being a derelict. They tractored it onboard and began to investigate. When we boarded, we investigated the freighter, onboard were a bunch of vials, one of our ship’s crew dropped one, releasing the fluid from its container. Do you have any idea of what that fluid was?”

Valeska mutely shook her head. The man nodded understandingly.

“It was carrier fluid for the Loedorvian Brain Plague,” stated the man dryly, looking at Valeska, who blinked in surprise.

She could only stammer, “What?”

“It appears that that freighter was actually a Confederacy vessel during the Clone Wars. Apparently one of their men made the same mistake; hence why the freighter was derelict. You see, Loedorvian Brain Plague was a biological weapon developed during the Clone Wars by the Confederacy of Independent Systems; it is an airborne agent that kills humans by attacking the brain and the central nervous system. Death occurs within minutes upon exposure. Apparently the Confederacy was in the act of transporting it to some target, or maybe even to Metalorn to mass produce vials of it. In any case, once the fluid leaked on the Ark Royal, it was circulated through the ventilation system and doorways, killing the crew. Lucky for us, the plague appears to have died out before we arrived, and even if it is still around, the breathing equipment of our peoples would have protected them against it. It turns out that it’s a very simple weapon to stop if we are prepared for it.”

The dark-haired woman frowned. “Does that mean that the Ark Royal won’t have to be decontaminated then?”

Commodore Teleri fidgeted in his seat. “According to pure science, no. However, just to make sure, the carrier will be purged of its atmosphere and will be thoroughly cleaned several times by sterilizing droids.”

“And the freighter?”

Teleri’s eyes brightened. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot. We are to hand over the freighter and its cargo to you, Rear-Admiral Lucerne’s orders. He will be assigning a droid pilot to it. You will then escort it to an undisclosed location; apparently the orders will be waiting for you on the Trojan by the time you get back.”

Valeska raised an eyebrow. “How do you know my orders?”

Teleri toothfully smiled. “We’re all on the same side now. Thomork just joined the Confederation hours ago. Anyways, his message to you was rerouted through our subspace transceiver network, so we picked it up instead of you. It will, of course, have been transmitted from us to you now. You know how the rerouting procedures run, I’d imagine.”

“Of course.”

The man rose and extended his hand to the woman. “It was a pleasure meeting you, and it seems likely that we might serve alongside each other shortly.”

“You too,” replied the former instructor, rising from her seat, “safe travels.”

The blast door slid open, allowing the Confederate Captain to exit unimpeded. She let out a sigh and began to stride through the metallic hallways of the Imperator Mk II Star Destroyer. Valeska took in a deep breath of the recycled air that circulated throughout the ship. If I were Lucerne, where would I put a freighter full of plague canisters? Surely not an any populated world where they could expode and kill everyone. She blinked. That leaves a lot of possibilities; asteroid belts or Uffel. It could work very nicely as a defensive mechanism on Uffel, seeing that I don’t think the droids will be affected at all by the plague. Or if he doesn’t want it used, maybe on one of the KDI asteroids in the Fyre Sola system. Then it hit her. A plague is such a powerful, indiscriminate weapon. If the Council ever hears about this, which they most likely will. why wouldn’t it be destroyed? The Abhean woman continued to contemplate those thoughts even as her shuttle whisked her away from the Ardent back to the Nebula. On her way back, she could spot another ship flying with a parallel course to the Trojan: the freighter filled with plague.



Thomork

The dark gray warships of the Thomork fleet began to coalesce in orbit around the forbidding planet. The lead vessel, the Imperator Mk II Ardent cruised forward, leading a mixed variety of vessels of New Republic and Imperial designs, but nearly all of which were built by the massive shipyards of the planet. Starfighters of various designs swarmed around the ships. The massive, box shaped shipyard facility was even alert, launching its complete starfighter complement and powering its own weapon’s suite. It looked as if the entire planet was mobilizing for an attack, save for one thing: the planetary shield generators, which protected the planet, and the CoMar facility, which protected the multi-shipyard station, were not being powered up. A single flash of light, the result of a ship reverting from hyperspace directing its Cronau radiation towards the planet, announced the reason for the pandemonium of activity: the Ark Royal. The carrier was currently carrying its dead crew and being operated with a skeleton crew of droids. As the carrier trudged towards its refitting berth at the yard’s facilities, the warships of the Thomork fleet opened fire with streaks of turbolaser flak bursts; making a bright, explosive display all around the Ark Royal; a salute to their former compatriots, friends, family, and acquaintances. It was a salute to the dead, and to new era for the planet.