Found and Lost

[Gavin Caste]

Sector: Unknown

Location: Metharian Nebula Boundary

Operational Objective: Compromised

Alarm klaxons continued to blare across the internal communication speakers, drowned out subsequent yells of wounded and the hard pressed movements of engineers desperate to stabilize their sole life line between life and the merciless void of space. Acrid fumes of burnt wires and boiled lubricants permeated the air, overwhelming the already stressed environmental scrubbers and pushing them ever closer to failure. They paled in comparison to the relentless flames that lapped against the metallic decks and bulkheads, scaring their interior structure and further pushing the stricken vessel towards its own demise.

All of these factors assaulted the ship's commanding officer Jun Sato, as he continued to oversee the reports that were flooding his command terminal. Holographic displays scrolled faster than he could read, only affording him chance glimpses to how badly they had been hit during their impromptu skirmish with the Imperial Destroyer Relentless. It was yet another Imperial trap on what should have been a routine supply run over the planet of Taris Prime. Instead it had developed into the loss of a transport and three of the vaunted members that made up the group's escort. Thanks to their sacrifice, however, the three Blockade Runners had managed to scatter with their surviving escort fighters... Phoenix Home being blessed with three remaining Arrow Wing Fighters. modified A-Wings.

"Estimated time until we drop out of hyperspace," Captain Sato called out from the holographic display that had begun flashing critical warnings from the chief engineers below decks. With a swipe of his right hand he pushed the reports to a secondary screen for further analysis before returning his attention to the swirling starscape that dominated the cracked and in places ruptured forward view screen.

"Three clicks sir," a technician who's head had been wrapped with an emergency tourniquet covering his left eye, it was already soaked with copper blood. The technician swayed briefly as the effects of blood loss began to take effect, yet still he remained at his position desperately trying to ensure the wounded vessel would not tear itself apart as it raced to some far off safe harbor.

Sato took note of the brief shutter and furrowed his brow briefly. "Very good. Go to the infirmary. Your injuries must be addressed immediately." He nodded to the middle aged man who was manning forward tactical, a station that had been rendered temporarily useless after the first barrage of the interrupted battle. "Commander Rex, take helm control."

"Of course Sir," the aged veteran of the Clone Wars called as he pushed himself out from under the tactical controls in which he had been trying to hot wire with less than stellar success. Giving a small pat on the back of the injured technical officer, he placed himself in the semi charred seat. A few presses of the barely live terminal controls the clone hero brought up personalized schematics and control outputs. "We're on target... whether we want to or not, we're going to have to drop out of hyperspace in the next click."

Before Sato could acknowledge, a tremor rocked the bridge and the rest of the damaged vessel. Almost immediately the bluish swirl of the star field was replaced by a stunning, crackling and roaring expanse of turquoises, emeralds and violets. Clouds of billowing debris swirled and writhed under intense gravitational fluctuations each highlighted by bolts of highly charged electricity that could span solar systems. The expanse before the tiny Blockade Runner bubbled on its surface, showing its rage as titanic astronomical forces worked their hands upon the unpolished clay of the cosmos. "Status Report."

Rex pressed the helm controls and furrowed his own brow as he attempted to push in commands to bring up the requested information. "Hyper drive is off line. Shields at 15%. Weapons offline. Life support a mess. We have minimal engines but if we get into trouble we aren't going to last long." He shook his head. "Appears we're going to have to set down if we want to address these repairs. Engineering reports we have the parts, but..."

Sato pulled his hand and began to rub his chin almost absently. "Yes, the damage is extensive enough that emergency patches won't be enough." He lowered his head in contemplation. It was only a matter of time before the Imperials picked up on their signal, and without the second jump to throw them off the trail, the crew of Phoenix Home and that of the Rebellion, was at risk. His mind briefly flashed to the possible fates of the other two ships with hopes they would be able to link up at the appropriate rally point. Immediately he shook the passing thought from his mind. They were all crewed by capable officers, and would survive no matter the situation... just as he and his fellow crewmen would do here. Of course that meant they needed a place to hide so they could repair and live another day. "Rex, order the three remaining escorts to dock immediately. As soon as they are onboard set course for the Nebula."

Rex complied with the order to recall the pilots to the remaining docking ports. Not only to give them a chance to stretch their legs after an already hyperspace transit, but also to add three new bodies to repair their mother ship. "Sir, you do know this is the Metharian Nebula. Not exactly the friendliest expanse of space."

"I am aware Commander," Sato signed briefly before turning his attention away from the casualty report that had recently arrived on his holographic display. He took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it in a slow sigh. "However dangerous it may be. It is probably our best bet for survival right now. I doubt the Empire will remain fooled for too long after scattering and will finally narrow down our present position."

"True, though this area of space is pretty much under charted," The Clone Commander busied himself entering the coordinates into the navigational computer and pushed the throttle toggle forward. "I would rather explore it with functional blasters and a couple of Jedi than in a damaged rig."

Sato could not help but smirk sorrowfully at the comment. He knew full well the connection Rex had developed with the two Jedi that were members of the Ghost Crew. Though he acknowledged the importance of Hera's present assignment, he could not help but share the clone's sentiment. "Unfortunately, we will have to manage... all available speed ahead Commander."

[SnowDog]

Rebel Corvette - Phoenix Home

The alarms that blared throughout the blockade runner echoed into the Voidhound’s interior. Valhan finished putting his helmet on before exiting the from his freighter to see the chaos around the small hangar bay.

“Tundra, head to engineering and see if they need a hand.” The Mandalorian instructed to his Quarren crew member. After taking a few steps down the ramp, the engineer followed closely after struggling to ensure he had all his tools.

“But what about the ’Hound? I wasn’t finished with the-“

“If this corvette ends up going down in smoke, it’ll take us with her. Now get to it.” After Valhan’s quick rebuttal, Tundra gave an understanding nod and made his way towards the engineering deck, stopping along the way to ask any of the ensigns which way to go. With Tundra set to help get this corvette fixed up, the Mandalorian clad in his silver and blue armor made his way towards the bridge, hoping to inquire more about what he had just signed on for.

What would normally be a quiet and easy walk through the corridors of the small vessel instead was a mad trek through a combination of injured rebel personnel and sparking panels around every corridor. Many didn’t even have time to register the Mandalorian mercenary’s presence as he marched through, the signature T-visor of his helmet fixated forward while trying not to impede on their safety.

Upon reaching the bridge, Valhan found his hirer alongside what little of his bridge crew who hadn’t been taken to the infirmary.

“When you said there would be risks involved with a venture like this, I didn’t think it included trying to take on ISDs like that.” Valhan said looking to Sato, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words to help hide the frustration behind his helmet. “Thought you said the space was safe, that it would be an easy drop in to collect whatever you guys are looking for.”

[Gavin Caste]

Rebel Corvette: Phoenix Home

No matter how you slice it, Rex mused to himself as he gently coaxed the remaining engines to their maximum sustainable out put, entering an under charted nebula is rarely a good idea. It had been his experience that such tactics screamed desperation and lack of alternatives. Unfortunately, he also forced himself to recognize that... well those were the very definitions of their current situation. The clone pulled his hand off of the throttle and returned to the control yolk of the craft. Carefully, as not to over burden the already compromised thrusters, he ordered the craft to bank to starboard to avoid a large billowing mass of ionized plasma and other volatile gases. The Phoenix Home groaned slightly in protest as the gravitational field worked harder to maintain its integrity, causing the interior of the vessel to feel the list of the turn before it leveled off yet again.

Without breaking his visual lock on his ruptured instruments, Rex allowed his concentration expand to the surrounding cacophony of the bridge. The acrid stench of smoke still permeated the air, though it had only slightly dissipated after the primary hatch jammed in a one fifth open position... most likely knocked off its track and warped after they had been forced out of hyperspace. Voices behind him spoke of new arrivals to the damaged bridge, the mercenary that had joined them looking for... well Rex had his opinions on those types of individuals. His earliest memories were of Mercenaries training him at a ridged boot camp on Kamino with thousands of his brothers. But, they were what one could hardly call... fond memories. Add to that the various encounters he and his 501st had with them had left rather bitter tastes in his mouth. Still given the situation of the Rebellion, the clone would have to grin and endure.

"Sure it was," he called over his shoulder before Sato could comment to the mercenary. "... Course no one told the Imperials to keep their Duce out in reserve until the operation was over with." He forced himself to give a light hearted chuckle. He again turned the yolk again, this time to narrowly avoid a small cluster or boulders no larger than an astromech. Yet with the current condition of their shields, such a collision would have proven... well they wall knew the state they were in.

"Indeed, our intelligence had pegged this operation as under the proverbial radar. However, it is apparent that our information was not as accurate as we would have liked." Jun Sato hid a scowl under the glow of static laced holographic screen. "It appears that once this is over, we will have to reconsider a great deal in how we are proceed."

Rex released a brief chuckle at the generic answer. He had come to know that the Phoenix Commander as not the sort to reveal his cards. "Well, Captain, before we consider those new procedures... we may want to get out of this predicament first." The remains of the forward view screen began to flicker further as the intense plasma and radiation began to tear at the spectral sensors. A swift glance at the heads up display only confirmed Rex's fears. Shields had not charged, which as not much of a surprise. It meant the runner was left with minimal protection against the ravages of the nebula and the possible dangers within. At least we don't have to...

The ship shook violently as a burst of energy exploded off the port side, narrowly missing a pocket of ionized metrion gas. Another burst of energy pulsed just below the ventral shielding field and was followed by a second just above the dorsal turret. "Hate to end our conversation prematurely... Appears our friends have decided to rejoin the party." Phoenix Home rocked again as a bolt of plasma lanced out from a large clump of gases and rocketed out towards empty space. His brow furrowed as he pulled the stricken ship into a downward dive to accelerate their plunge into the Nebula.

"Commander! Take us into those cloud banks... NOW!" Captain Jun Sato ordered with authority as the fragmented and static filled holographic display before him revealed the large and terrifying delta chevron that was intent on spelling their doom. His fist clinched as he pondered the available information. They were on the verge of disappearing into the fog of the nebula, but... it was race against time. Would they manage to disappear into the stellar void, or would their mortal enemy lock their fangs into them.

Rex simply looked over his shoulder as the hull screamed in protest to his commands. "Well Valhan, I hope you brought enough refreshments... cause we're going to have a lot of company."

[Gavin Caste]

ISD Relentless: Bridge

A magnificent stage had been set. The blackened void of space lanced with red and green flashes of energy as they danced between vast stellar distances with murderous intent. The smoldering wreckage of pathetic resistance wafting on the solar winds as they slowly drifted into a near by gravitational well... Ruined fragments of rebellion, with their vane attempts at usurping the divine order of the Imperial Majesty, flickered as their last joules of electricity danced through severed connections and broken circuits. It was a glorious stage... that almost shrouded the disappointing failure that lingered over the minor skirmish and its minor victory.

Admiral Kassius Konstantine stood on the dividing bridge that separated the two command wells of his Imperial Destroyer, Relentless. He shifted his weight only briefly as he watched the two squadrons of TIE fighters sweep in and finish off the last of the rebel fighter craft that had valiantly sacrificed themselves so their larger ships could make their futile escape. His hands rested behind his back as he tapped the cadence of the fighters as they fired their final volley of green rendered laser bursts into the cockpit of the poorly armed and rather aged bomber fighter known as a Y-Wing. "Those things should have been left to the museum," he muttered to himself as the small black highlighted craft erupted to flame and quickly silenced into an ever expanding ball of ice cold slag and flash frozen pellets of molten metal shrapnel. "Or the scrap pile."

He waited as the four Tartan Class escort gunboats began recalling their fighter escorts, admiring the simple efficiency of those under his command... after all efficiency was the key to glory. Finally he glanced down at the left most command deck where the flight control officer was finalizing checks and communicating with the squadron leaders. "Recall the closest fighters. Protocol Delta Phi. Sixth flight is to remain as escort for the freighter convoy." The veteran officer returned his gaze back to the forward screen. "Inform me as soon as they are onboard."

After the affirmation by the Lieutenant in the well, he looked to his right only briefly. "Have you tracked the course of the three rebel ships and their surviving escorts?"

The young human from Kaas, stood up and offered a polite salute that felt to the Admiral as more out of protocol than actual competence. "Yes Sir, we have the current course headings for the three ships. Their damaged states suggest that they will..."

Konstantine simply waved off the rest of the young officer's assessment. He did not need the opinion of a fresh out of the academy runt telling him how to proceed. "Transmit the coordinates of the second and third runners to the escort craft. They are to pursue until the trail runs cold. Capture the rebel officers, fodder can be dealt with at their leisure. Helm, as soon as the final squadron is confirmed onboard, set a course after the lead craft."

The two separate officers snapped together and saluted their affirmation and confirmations of their orders. Moments passed and the task force commander began to slowly succumb to impatience. Moffs weren't made by waiting for the incompetent underlings to do such simple tasks. His upper lip twitched briefly as he contemplated demanding a status of his orders, only five minutes after being issued. Though he knew that Imperial procedures took a set amount of time, and that his crew would execute those procedures as fast as their allotment would allow... still he could not help but feel that his opportunity to finally deal a critical blow to the enemies of the Empire, and a chance at further embellishment of his own credentials slowly slipping away.

"Admiral, the deck officer reports the final fighter group has been secured. We are ready for hyperspace jump."

The Navigational Officer stood up. "We have transmitted required data and the four ships are already underway."

"Very well. Helm jump as soon as you are able. We have lost enough time, I refuse to allow those Rebels to get away." The impatient tick soon faded to be replaced by a wry smirk as the forward view screen exploded into a field of spiraling blue.

One Hour Into Hyperspace Transit

"Status Report," Konstantine demanded as he exited the starboard side lift that lead directly to his office just off the bridge. He accepted the data slate from the bridge yeoman and took a quick cursory glance at its content. It was a standard report regarding fuel consumption, munition expenditure an casualty reports. Repairs were negligible, standard maintenance dominated the list as well as requests for the allocation of resources to various modification programs his engineers had begun to experiment with well before their little skirmish had forced their attentions elsewhere. Over all, the Relentless had emerged unscathed. Shields had returned to full power, after only dropping approximately three percent... though Konstantine's report the Grand Moffs gave the issue as negligible. There had been casualties, a security officer stubbed his toe, a plasma burn at the waste extractor on deck two... engineers described the issue as an accidental overload of the recycling systems. The medical staff called it an unmitigated stench. Beyond that, there had been no deaths, a few damaged fighters that had been left to the care of the transport convoy.

The Admiral handed the slate back to the yeoman after entering his authorization codes confirming the acceptance and recording of the reports into the official history of the mission. He dismissed the aid and walked towards the forward view screen. Quietly he resumed his position at the head of the bridge, the symbolic position where commanders lead their warriors into battle. "Commander Hess. Estimated time of arrival to the estimated position of the rebel craft?"

Hess pulled himself from the side sensor station terminal located at the rear of the bridge and brushed off his uniform, removing the unsightly creases and folds. With the dignity that his patron demanded in the position, he marched forward to the fore of the deck. "Admiral," he saluted as he snapped to attention. "After analyzing the damage of the rebel craft, we estimate that we will arrive at the potential location where their vessel will be forced to drop out of hyperspace."

Konstantine signed quietly as he turned to face his executive officer. "You estimate?"

"Yes sir, the modified corvette suffered severe damage not only to its tactical systems but to its engines and hyperdrive systems. Given what we know of the ship designs and the systems we identified as damaged or crippled, we believe that they must drop out of hyperspace soon and effect repairs." Hess stepped over to his left and guided the Admiral's attention to the central holographic display of a star chart, and beneath it a rotating image of the Heavily Modified Corellian Corvette. Its image was splotched with different colors... yellow indicating moderate damage to systems and red to identified critical damage. "As you can see sir, the entire engine module has suffered critical damage and by our estimates, will not remain functional for too much longer."

"I see," the Admiral rubbed the base of his chin before smirking. "It appears that their course has no worlds that are habitable for them to set down. Save for on the other side of that feature here." He pointed to the massive featureless holographic mass of swirling lights of crimson and violet. At its center an Imperial designation of warning.

"Correct Admiral," Hess nodded his head only briefly. "We have already adjusted our course to intercept at the edge of this nebula. It is the only logical position in which these rebels will attempt to hasten their flight."

Konstantine allowed his smirk to fade. He pulled himself back from the holographic display and returned to his position near the forward portion of the bridge. "Good work Commander. I trust you have also taken the appropriate steps for when we drop out of hyperspace?"

"Affirmative sir," Hess joined his commanding officer at the front of the bridge... and a respectful step behind him. "We will be dropping out of hyperspace momentarily."

"Excellent." Konstantine inhaled the sanitized air and allowed his lungs to fill with the feeling of inevitable triumph. "Very well, all hands to battle stations. As soon as we drop, I want the tractor beams at the ready."

Dropping out of Hyperspace: Five minutes after the Phoenix Home

The swirl of hyperspace instantly gave way to a massive churning cauldron of gasses and radiation. "We have dropped out of hyperspace," the navigational officer in the right well announced in a crisp voice... yet again reminding the Admiral that he was fresh out of the Academy.

"Sensors have located the rebel ship. Point Zero Four Two Mark Twelve. It is currently on a heading of Seven Three at one fifth operational speed." The report came from the station to the left of the navigation terminal. The tactical officer only briefly looked up at the two commanding officers. "It is headed towards the Nebula. Estimated time of boundary breach, two minutes thirty five seconds and declining."

Kassius nodded, his gaze fixed on the small dot as it limped to the boundaries of the nebula before them. "How long before they are in range of the tractor beam?"

"Two minutes sir."

"Very well. Ahead at flanking speed... close the gap between us. Gun batteries, stagger firing and force them away from the nebula. I want that ship captured, not destroyed." The Admiral's smirk slowly emerged once again. Victory was soon within his grasp... no one was foolish enough to take a tub that badly beaten into a toxic mess such as the Metharian Nebula. It was a known quality regarding this particular expanse of space, sensors were rendered nearly useless and shields were destabilized even more so to the point that even at full power, they held the protection factor of a field barely holding itself together. Recent reports had also indicated that mapping and exploration of the nebula had been put on hold because of those two factors... and worse. Even still, Admiral Konstantine would not let his prey escape him this time.

From the forward view screen, the whole of the bridge watched as the massive turrets that lined the ventral hull swiveled into position. Their barrels elevated onto their targeted ship that hung below them at a negative axis. Then with vibrations and simulated sounds echoing through the bridge, the batteries began to unleash their lethal bombardment of the stricken rebel vessel.

[Insidious]

ISD Relentless: Bridge

A robed figure was escorted onto the bridge by an Imperial science officer. Kren Blista-Vanee was a member of the Imperial Ruling Council--those individuals who handled the day to day running of the empire while the Emperor himself did, well, whatever it was he saw fit to do on any given day. Blista-Vanee and the other members of the council were only occasionally privy to the Emperor's dealings and even then, only when they were on Coruscant at the same time.

The Emperor sometimes saw fit to send one or several of them out aboard one of the Empire's many vessels to get a closer look at a mission that had caught his attention for one reason or another. The Emperor's motives were vast and largely unknowable by the likes of even a dignitary such as Blista-Vanee.

"...and this is the commanding officer of this vessel, Kassius Konstantine. Sir, with respect, Kren-Blista Vanee of..."

Vanee waved him off.

"No need for the excessive formalities," Kren said, being one of the more gregarious members of the largely sullen council. "I am not here to supervise or any other such thing. The Emperor was merely curious about the proceedings in this nebula."

Kren Blista-Vanee's gaze turned toward the large windows that gave a sweeping view of the exterior space and the discharging turbolaser batteries.

"And I'm beginning to see why. Rebels? Pirates? Some other such thing?"