*Author: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Thank you for reading the communique from the author. The program will begin as normal now.
Nine days.
Nine days since the war room meeting where we locked in the trap, since Atii started dragging me into daily (sometimes twice-daily sometimes) training sessions that left me bruised, sore, and questioning every life choice, since the Mandalorians settled into the mountain outpost like they had always belonged there, 6 days since we detonated the fake explosion on the Gozanti and 3 days since we sent the bait hauler into hiding.
I stood on the balcony outside my quarters, leaning against the railing, watching dawn creep across the plains. Havenridge looked peaceful from up here, smoke rose from native cooking fires. Speeders moved through the streets and kids ran between houses.
Life went on peacefully.
Well that was a lie.
the third black-market run had come back clean not too long ago, larger load than the previous two which if you do basic maths it equals bigger profit, with the net being just over 62,000 credits after Black Sun bribes and cuts, turns out there is a small gang war on the planet and any and all weapons, armour and fuel are hot commodity.
We sold everything: remaining pirate loot (weapons, power cells, fuel), excess duranium overage, herb bundles, timber shipments. In exchange we bought what we needed: E-Web heavy repeaters, quad laser cannons, PLX-2M portable missile launchers, HH-12 rocket systems, a handful of Tenloss disruptors (expensive as hell, but worth it), and enough ion cannon components to jury-rig two salvaged turrets onto the hidden cargo hauler. We even grabbed extra ECM pods and sensor jammers, making Lira ecstatic about them while Reza was happy to add another semi worthy armed ship under his command.
I was just relieved we did not lose a skiff.
To keep up appearances, we pretended to prep a fourth run. Fake manifests filed. Shuttle movements in and out of Havenridge spaceport. Cargo loading visible from orbit and even from the ground. Enough activity to make any watching scout think we were still going about the day normally and moving even more ships out, not like the skiffs are much in terms of fire power but its better than nothing, and they can be used as boarding shuttles along the few others we have.
Six days ago we detonated the fake explosion on the Gozanti. Lira's team rigged it perfectly: small shaped charge above the engine nacelles, timed detonation, smoke canisters, spark generators, distress beacon ping shot out in every direction, making it seem as if we broadcasted it to everyone by mistake. "Engine overload. Primary thrust offline. Emergency maintenance underway." The cruiser drifted "helpless" in low orbit over Elyria.
Scans from low grade scanners that typical pirates would have show hull breach, engine damage, power fluctuations. Enough to sell it without actually crippling the ship.
Three days ago we launched the bait: one unarmed cargo hauler with a visible escort of TIEs and a single Mandalorian Kom'rk, Atii was not happy she was not the one flying.
They "headed" for the nearest large trade hub to buy repair parts in a completely different sector under Imperial control that would have the parts we need at reasonable prices.
They never left the system.
The hauler slipped into a crater on Elyria II, slight distance from Durak's Hold. Engines cold. Signature masked, the TIEs and Kom'rk landed inside the crater rim, hidden under camo netting and dust. We even bolted light weapons onto the hauler quad lasers and a single PLX launcher using spares from the Gozanti and black-market haul.
It was not much but its honest work.
Hopefully it will be enough to surprise pirate ships or help deal with a landing party or provide covering fire if things went sideways.
No pirate scouts at least none we could confirm, no sign they bought the bait. But they were watching. I could feel it in my bones, nine days of waiting. Nine days of pretending everything was normal while my stomach tied itself into knots.
I sighed, nine days of Atii showing up at my door every afternoon (and sometimes mornings) with that same wide grin and the same insistence: "Training time." Nine days of falling on my ass, missing blaster shots, learning how to roll instead of face-planting, getting bruises in places I did not know could bruise, nine days of her hanging around afterward asking questions, a lot of questions while also watching me work, sitting nearby while I reviewed reports, like she was trying to figure out why a kid my age was running a system instead of training even more, to a mandalorian like her I must seem like a strange little creature.
I sighed. Rubbed my face, my shoulder still ached from yesterday's "lesson." She had me practicing falls from a standing push, I fell a lot.
She laughed every time, not mean just amused. Like I was the galaxy's most entertaining student, the worst part? I was starting to get used to it.
I turned away from the balcony, time to face the day. I walked the corridors toward the war room, Guards nodded, natives and non native workers smiled. Stormtroopers saluted, I returned the nods and salutes automatically.
The war room door hissed open, Jaster was already there, armor on, helmet off like always, reviewing the holo-map with his two lieutenants. The others like Torv, Elara, Reza and Varn where there too looking at the holotable or their own datapads.
Meanwhile Lira and Mira hovered near the console. Rusty rolled around, complaining something about abominable meatbags and how they cant properly clean the dust.
Atii was there too.
Oh no.
Perched on the edge of the table, grinning when she saw me."Morning, Governor," she said. "Sleep well?" I shot her a glare. She laughed.
Jaster looked up. "Governor." I nodded. "Jaster. Everyone." I dropped into my chair. "Status."
Reza spoke first. "Third run profit confirmed. 62,400 net. Weapons loaded. Hauler armed. Crater position stable. No detections."
Elara added. "Native militia at 650 now. More signing up daily. Training sessions with Mandalorians are working." Jaster added after her. "Patrols clean."
I nodded. "Good. Keep pretending we are prepping a fourth run. Cargo movements. Shuttle flights. Let them think we are still scrambling."I looked around the table. "Any sign of the strike group?"
Silence.
The waiting is killing me, I just want this to be fucking over with I sigh internally.
***
I finally leaned back after around 40 minutes and rubbed my face. "That is it," I said. "Dismissed." The word barely left my mouth before Atii sprang up from her seat like she had been coiled and waiting for exactly that syllable. She was across the table in two steps. Grabbed my wrist.
"You know what time it is? she said.
I stared at her. "Training time." I sigh with resignation.
She started walking, dragging me with her, I did not even try to resist. After nine days of this routine, I knew it was futile, she pulled me out of the war room, down the corridor, past guards who pretended not to notice, past the staff who smirked openly as we went by. One of them even gave me a sympathetic nod while trying not to laugh.
I shot some of the snickering guards a look that conveyed exactly one message: you are next. Your turn with your own Mandalorian instructions is coming. They looked away fast.
She dragged me through the entire palace, past the armory where Torv's people paused mid-drill of how to quickly equip their weapon and armour to watch, smirking, past the native guest wing where a few clan members waved cheerfully. Past the lower hangar bay, one of Reza's pilots saluted, then quickly turned away to hide a grin. Past the kitchens where a cook that has a heart of gold held up a flatbread like a question; Atii shook her head without slowing down.
She did not let go once, I let her drag me. Resistance was pointless, it only makes her say things like "Since you have this much energy you can train double as long and doubly as hard."
We arrived at one of the palace's lower training rooms.
She finally released my wrist. Stepped back. "Blaster work today," she said. "You keep missing even stationary targets most of the time, we need to fix that." I rubbed my wrist.
She walked to the rack, Pulled down a training blaster, then she grabbed a carbine from one of the Mandalorian crates that had appeared in the room sometime in the last week. GALAAR-15 blaster carbine, sleek and heavy.
She tossed me the training blaster first. "Basic stance: feet shoulder-width, knees bent, weight forward, two hands, sight picture, breathe out and squeeze." She stepped behind me, adjusted my stance, her hands were close, on my shoulders, elbows and wrists. Guiding and correcting me gently but firmly.
I Focused on the target dummy thirty meters away.
I fired, and missed, very much not shocked, I could probably have better aim with normal guns or as they are known here slug throwers.
She clicked her tongue. "Again, remember to breathe and then squeeze and not squeeze and then breathe it causes you to jerk."
I fired again, missed low this time though.
She stepped even closer, practically hugging me from behind her chest squashed into my back as she somewhat roughly and impatiently with a hint of annoyance reached around to adjust my grip then slightly pull back but still keeping me close and her hands on the blaster and my own.
"I said breathe out first and then squeeze, I seen younglings with better aim than you."
I breathed out as she told me and squeezed.
I hit the dummy, it was lower stomach and the edge but a hit is a hit. It made her grin and clap me on my forearm. "See? Much better." We went on like that, Shot after shot, some missing some hitting but she stayed close, not as close as before but still there to correct my stance, adjust my grip, moving my arms.
Her voice low near my ear.
"Again."
"Lower."
"Breathe."
"Squeeze."
Whenever I missed she sounded annoyed if I hit she was ecstatic.
I missed most but I hit some, after twenty minutes she stepped back and handed me the the heavy carbine. "Try this." I took it, it was heavy but balanced.
I fiddled with my stance a bit since this was bigger than just a small blaster, I braced and fired, first thing I felt was pain as the recoil slammed into my shoulder like a speeder bike. I staggered back, I went down hard on my ass, though because of the training I changed my landing so I land on my shoulder and not squarely on my head.
Atii laughed, the few people here snickered. I groaned as I lay flat on the mat.
"Ow." Atii crouched beside me, grinning. "That is why you need to learn stance first." I glared at the ceiling, "I hate that thing." She laughed again, offered me a hand, I took it.
She pulled me up. "You are getting better, you moved when falling, I will consider it a proof my training is working" she said. "Now you might even survive if a youngling decides to attack you"
I rubbed my shoulder. "Yeah sure whatever." She smirked. I looked at her, really looked.
She was sixteen, slightly older than me, but she carried herself like someone who had seen things, probably fought things and lost them as well I wondered what her life had been like before they came here, I wondered if she ever missed it.
"I have work, reports and other meetings I need to go." She tilted her head. "You always have work."
"Because I always have work." She sighed dramatically. "Fine, but tomorrow we go again."
I groaned while she grinned.
***
Karzyns 1st lieutenant of Havensridge militia POV (Militia Guard Shift – Havenridge Starport)
The starport was quiet this time of day, mid-morning most of the commercial traffic had already come and gone. A few private shuttles sat on the pads, refueling or loading cargo the wind carried dust across the tarmac. I stood at the perimeter fence with two other guards.
We had rifles slung low, masks around our necks in case a dust storm moved from the southern plains, eyes scanning the arrivals gate, It had been nine days since the outsider mandalorians landed and with them their hellish training even now others not on guard duty were being drilled and trained by them, I as a lieutenant would rather do fourteen hour grunt guard shifts than return there, alas I am in the next training shift.
Overall the nine days since the governor locked in that trap plan and our training were peaceful, too peaceful. I smirk as I take out a cigarette and light it, it has also been nine days since that small bundle of energy started dragging the governor to training every afternoon like it was her personal mission and if not that she spent most of her day pestering him with endless questions or hanging around him.
I chuckle a bit at that and exhale, the relaxing smoke curling out through my nose and mouth. We all knew, the whole palace knew. The smirks had become a running joke among the guards, the staff the mandalorians and everyone.
Today was supposed to be a standard routine, by the ancestors it is boring but it beats being beat by mandalorians.
We are supposed to watch the gates, check IDs, report anything odd and respond to any distress signals or calls for backup from other teams in and around the port.
Then three outsiders walked in, they did not look or behave like traders, their hands on their hips as if trying to grasp something that is meant to be there but isin't.
They look too coordinated, trying hard to blend in while their eyes are darting around, dark tunics, hoods up but only slightly, not trying too hard to hide their faces but also able to pull them down fast if they need to, they lingered near the departure board, talking low. One kept glancing at the governor's private landing pad in the city some ways away that is heavily guarded not by militia but by stormtroopers.
The other scanned the perimeter like he was counting guards and their placement. I kept the cigarette in my mouth as I nudged Elaris next to me.
"See them?" He nodded. "They have been there for quite a while, looking around especially at the guards and whispering, even in this loud place."
We watched silently, I holoed in about three suspicious individuals and their appearances and behaviours. We saw them, split up, one went to the ticket counter, asked some questions to whitch the clerk shook his head, the man pressed while the clerk looked nervous. The other two wandered closer to the fence, one visibly pointed at the governor's shuttle bay where some maintenance is being made on it and 2 TIE fighters, the other pulled out a datapad and took a quick holo-image.
At this I holoed and looked at my superior above in the protected viewing port, I waited for three seconds before he holoed me and others, I gave the two with me a nod as we started to subtly shift towards them along with 2 other squads I could see from here.
A protocol droid that was modified as a camera sentry and translation device has been requisitioned by the commander, we were still on line with him so we heard everything that they said.
They were asking for very specific information, governor's schedule, shuttle movements and why there seems to be less security in system than before.
One of the guys near the fence started talking to some homeless bum about cargo manifests, guard rotations, he did not get much from him besides that there was an explosion of some kind that shook the cruiser and now they needed to go to a different sector for repairs and supplies.
The clerk was loyal and the homeless guy was observant and gave all he knew for some credits. We could not get the rest since the chatter in the area increased with new arrival just getting off board but they got something, enough to make them nod and leave fast.
They headed back to their ship, a small civilian transport with no clear weapons or markings, the identificator showed it belonged a system 12 sectors away in the inner rim, The engines were hot and ready, as soon as they started moving towards the ship we started trying to shove past the civilians disembarking as they fully ran into their ship.
They lifted off within a minute, and humped to hyperspace before we could scramble an aerial pursuit, what the fuck are the pilots doing? Because of them the scum will know that the Goza- At that moment I realised that they were probably deliberately let go in order to bait the pirates in
I was called in to debrief my superior
" Three suspicious outsiders one weequay a rodian and a species unknown to me were at the arrivals gate. Asking sensitive questions and took holo-images, ran fast when we tried to pursue, we were stopped by the civilians disembarking from a ship. They boarded a possibly stolen unmarked civilian transport and jumped out-system."
"Report is on its way to the governor, good work." I exhaled.
Kael's POV – office, 30 Minutes Later
I received the report while I was meeting with Lira, Mira and Harlan about some logistical issues, I then promptly called for Torv and Elara while I called for Reza and Jaster through the holo, captain Varn came in a few seconds after Torv.
The side holo-table glowed with the starport feed frozen on it: three hooded figures at the arrivals gate, one pointing at my private pad, one taking a holo-image.
I tapped the table and sent the same report to Reza and Jaster. The image zoomed in "Three individuals one Weequay, Rodian and Palliduvan. Mid-morning., asking very specific and shady questions, they also took sensitive images and when the guards went to arrest them they fled and left by fast, jumped out-system."
Reza then spoke up "As soon as I got information about a fleeing suspect in a ship I knew that they might be the pirate scouts, so I let them go to finally bait the pirates in, I also ran a scan on the ship, it arrived 4 days ago and the three individuals were seen walking around on Havensridge to various bars and one guard reported 2 days ago they swear they seen someone on the outskirts of the bomber pad, the ship was also see in the logs on Durak Hold 7 days ago but we dont know what they did there."
Torv grunted. "Fucking finally."
Jaster's voice was low. "They were probably confirming the news of the Gozanti and the heavy escort leaving they were probably also mapping out defences."
I looked around the table. "They might soon be here, matter of days or hours" I said. "Prepare quickly but quietly, no obvious changes we dont know if they have more scouts or spies here. We pretend everything is normal." Reza asked. "The fourth run pretense?"
"Make one of the loading bots have a malfunction, act as if its broken and delay the departure for a day and a half, if they dont show up make some excuse about the captain getting into a drunken brawl or something, I dont care all ships will stay in system. Follow the plan" I said. Jaster nodded. "I will instruct my people to prepare for boarding action and be ready at all time."
The others voiced similar sentiments, Torv and Varn already half way out the room calling for Stormtroopers and militia to prepare while Elara notified the native clans to prepare their warriors to repel the attackers should they make landfall.
Jaster disconnected and Reza did so as well after telling me he will prepare all available naval assets for battle. Meanwhile Lira and Mira as well as Harlan left to their own task.
Once alone I leaned heavier into my chair and sighed.
"Come on, hit me. Hit me."
After this I am locking myself in my room and sleeping, fuck Atii, fuck the system, fuck the empire. I need a little me time.
***
I stayed seated in my office after the quick meeting, working.
After finishing one report about a small cave in the mines I opened up my encrypted datapad and read the incoming reports from everyone
From Reza:
Cargo hauler + TIEs + Kom'rk in crater: stand ready immediately. Full alert, stoped all modifications/weapons work on hauler, camo netting stays up, engines cold until my order all crews in positions, all naval assets ready. Specific - All bomber pilots/crews: station near bombers 24/7, ready to fly in less than 10 minutes on order. No leave, no downtime, full alert. Confirm.
I reply in confirmation.
If we can use our bombers quickly to critically disable the bigger ships the better thats why they are now on full alert even more so than others, besides the mandalorians and Gozanti.
Reply came in seconds: Confirmed. Standing ready.
Next: Mandalorians, Jaster:
Warriors of mandalore are on standby. Boarding teams prepped/armed. No visible changes. Confirm.
I reply in confirmation.
Next: native militia, Elara:
Militia to 650 confirmed. New recruits (basic blasters only) assigned to hold vital points on Prime and Elyria II where conflict is least expected. No frontline duty for them. Clan holdings outside major cities do not need protection they have their own forces and can repel pirates if needed, call for help if overwhelmed, selected militia units en route to coordinate with stormtroopers and mandalorians about boarding actions.
Confirm.
I reply in confirmation.
Finally from Torv, which he also tagged Varn in:
Stormtrooper core fully mobilised and ready, units assigned to protection of vital instalations already in place, those selected for boarding action on route, setting up heavy blasters around the major cities to repel enemy fighters as well as heavy repeating blasters in key chokepoints, small contingent of elites places in the palace for your personal protection.
Long live the empire.
I sighed at the last comment from Torv and Varn as I closed the comms. If only they seen the sadistic wrinkly ballsack of an emperor, if he did not have such a hard on for dark side and unlimited power he would have probably be on some galactic wide star wars version of epsteins list.
I pulled up the latest training report from Jaster and Torv on my datapad.
Days of joint sessions, progress: Stormtroopers more fluid (less rigid, better at CQC and boarding tactics). Militia are beginning to have a shadow that barley "resembles fighters" (basic marksmanship, movement, discipline improving), some promising units comprised of veteran clan warriors have progressed further and are semi-fit for boarding actions.
Which means not much overall, nine days is not enough for miracles, I am not some wuxia protagonist that somehow trains elite fighters or summons some ghostly op army to fight for myself.
I leaned heavier into the chair, is it all enough? We have mandalorian warriors, Kom'rks, TIEs, bombers a retro fitted cargo hauler and a Gozanti. Five hundred stormtroopers, six hundred fifty militia (half barely trained), two patched skiffs. We also have a trap and element of suprise and some heavy weapons but not much.
I bite my lip hard as I think about what if they bring more than we expect, what then? They could probably wipe us, they could land troops on Prime, take Havenridge, take Durak's Hold. Take everything.
***
Later in the evening the palace had gone completely still, no footsteps in the corridors, no distant clatter from the kitchens. No low murmur from the quarters. Just the soft hum of the generators and the occasional creak of the building settling in the night wind and a comm check from the guards outside.
I sat alone in my office, door locked, the now somewhat fixed lights dimmed turned off and only a single desk lamp on, the datapad screen glowed faintly in front of me, blinking on a blank notes page.
I had not moved in almost an hour, just stared at the blinking line, the preparations were done. As done as they could be, the waiting had become physical, a pressure behind my ribs. A tightness in my throat.
Every time I exhaled it felt like I was pushing against something solid, I tapped the desk a bit from nerves but abruptly stop.
What if we win?
I sat up straight as started to think.
The question slipped in quietly, like it had been waiting for the room to go silent, if we win, not when. If big.
But if. What then? I leaned forward, Started typing, more of a note than anything else, just thoughts. Raw and unfiltered.
Captured ships, if we take them become ours, cruisers, the retrofitted cargo hauler turned troop transport, their skiffs and fighters wreckages that could be fixed.
We could, and we should. They probably have some spoils and loot we can sell and with the credits we can refit them with better weapons and shielding maybe better hyperdrive but that is secondary. We have plenty of people here who mostly work seasonally and we can crew them, along with any slaves we free if they have them.
Militia gain experience and prove themselves while stormtroopers sharpen their skills and can try and use their new fluidity in real combat.
More firepower, more mobility and more options, I stop writing for a brief second before starting back again with more vigour, a small grin on my face.
Then we hit back hard with new ships and mandalorians. It will be systematic and methodical starting out with small outposts first, free any slaves and bring them back, take their supplies, take ships, make them bleed credits and bodies while growing stronger.
Expand, freed slaves become part of the system workforce, some might have skills we desire like pilots, crews, doctors and others, by increasing our population we can get more militia, militia become professional soldiers or pilots and crews.
More hands, more eyes, more guns. More of everything.
I stopped typing.
Stared at the sentences full of gramatical and spelling mistakes I made while in my exhilarated state of mind it sounded simple on the screen, like in game of Hoi4 or Stelaris it might seem simple but the enemy might do something either genius it works or something so stupid it works.
It would not be simple, it would be bloody, messy and fuck ton in terms of expenses. It is risky, but it would be something.
Something other than waiting to die either by an accident, a pirate or some imperial shmuck light years away who remembered I existed.
I pulled up the full updated confederation intel we managed to gather from the mandalorians as well as the third black market run and interogations, it has been halpfully compiled by my lovely blue skinned Lira, force bless her soul, half of this technology I dont understand how to work and she makes the reports so beautiful looking and easy to read.
I open the datapad and immediately see red lines spiderwebbed across the sector and into the adjacent ones, thousands of pirates with dozens of ships big and small. Outposts scattered like broken teeth among the mostly deserted neighbouring systems, there are multitude of non confederation pirates and slavers pinged in a lighter shade of red, they are mostly small fries, disunited and opportunistic.
I scroll down and look through the independent pirates and slavers, they are not much but there are many in nearby systems and even few sightings in my one, they use the empty systems as hubs and hideouts and probably where they store their meagre loot, I grin lightly but it falls off soon after I scroll further down about the confederation.
All in all they have dozens of ships big and small and thousands of bodies to throw at us. But the biggest worry for me is about the ones at the top, the Maulers or whatever.
They are the strongest faction they held a retrofitted, stolen Gladiator-class Star Destroyer, how they got it? Fuck if I know, all I know is that anything with the term "destroyer" in its name could beat the living shit out of me, not only that they have two Corelian hammerhead cruises and some other smaller ships, all in all they alone have over a thousand bodies and probably have few close allies, or groups under them that they could command immediately
I scroll a bit down and see the specifics about it, it is smaller than a normal class star destroyer, thank fuck for that. However, it is still heavily armed and dangerous. Thankfully they are not strong enough to control the confederation in full, it is still just a loose confederation rife with infighting, greed and pride.
But if we win here, if we take their strike group…
It changes everything.
***
The office had grown dark except for the single lamp on the desk, the moons were high now, pale light spilling across the viewport in thin silver bands. I had lost track of time again, I rubbed my eyes. The ache behind them had settled in deep, my shoulder finally stopped throbbing from the afternoon's training knowing it will come back later anyway when I am dragged to another round of training, I stretched a bit in my chair and I felt my back pop, the light ache from sitting too long dissapearing. Every joint felt like it had been packed with sand, I was about to shut everything down and try to sleep when the comm panel lit up.
A soft chime, I look to it and found it is from one of the few long-range probes we have, it was a priority alert.
I sat up straight, heart kicked once, rather hard.
I tapped the panel, the message was short and timestamped from around 5 minutes ago
Probe LRP-04 Outer perimeter sweep complete.
Multiple contacts detected on system edge.
Signature match: pirate confederation strike group.
Three heavy cruisers, one converted cargo hauler, designated as troop transport, eight fighters, three skiffs.
Current vector: inbound, ETA 6-8 hours depending on final acceleration.
No deviation. No comm chatter intercepted.
Probe retreating to safe distance.
End transmission.
I stared at the words until they blurred, those bastards are finally here. I exhaled through my nose.
Then I opened three encrypted channels simultaneously, I then spoke to the first person on the holo which was Reza on the Gozanti bridge."Reza. Long-range probe just confirmed. Strike group on the edge of the system. Three cruisers, troop transport, eight fighters, three skiffs. Inbound. ETA 6 to 8 hours. Prepare for battle. Full alert. Keep the 'damaged' pretense active until we spring the trap. Remember, if possible, take the big cruisers through boarding or venting the bridge. If the risk is too high or casualties mount, destroy any resisting ship. Engage fighters at will. We can collect wreckage later. Their fighters are shielded and better armed than TIEs dogpile on them. Confirm."
Reza's voice came back almost instantly, calm and professional."Confirmed. Gozanti going to full readiness. All weapons hot, TIEs and bombers will be on less than 5 minute scramble in hour 5 and less than 2 in hour 7. We will be ready, governor."
Next, it was Jaster at the outpost." Jaster. Strike group confirmed on system edge. Three cruisers, troop transport, eight fighters, three skiffs. Inbound. ETA 6 to 8 hours. Prepare for battle. Same orders: if possible, take the big cruisers through boarding or venting the bridge. If risk too high or casualties too heavy, coordinate with the militia and stormtroopers for boarding action and Reza will take overall command of the naval battle. Confirm."
Jaster's reply was low, steady. "Confirmed. Fighters and Kom'rks hot. Boarding teams standing by. We are ready, good hunting, governor."
Lastly Torv."Torv. Strike group confirmed. Three cruisers, troop transport, eight fighters, three skiffs. Inbound. ETA 6 to 8 hours. Prepare for battle, prepare the launch of the boarding parties to withing 5 minutes in 6 hours and hour 7 they are meant to be sitting in those ships till enemies arrive. The forces on the ground are to move into position into strategic points and deploy heavy weaponry the boarding parties are to support the mandalorians while they rush for the bridge, do not go pushing into the whole ship while the forces on the ground are to hold their ground, if enemy brings overwhelming force or armoured units retreat while returning fire. Confirm."
Torv's voice was gruff, almost eager as I saw him stand up straight and unsling his now customised rifle, courtesy of some mandalorian engineer. "Confirmed. Stormtroopers and militia boarding teams ready and defensive units ready. We will take those ships or burn all within them. Standing by."
I cut all three channels.
The office went silent again.
I stood up slowly and walked slowly to the viewport.
Looked up into the sky, the moons were bright and the stars glinting sharply in the night sky. Somewhere out there the pirates are drifting through space, hoping to catch me off guard they were moving toward us.
Toward me.
Toward everything I had scraped together in less than a month that I have been here I pressed my palm against the cool transparisteel. Breathed out heavily, not saying anything, just breathing
The countdown had hit zero.
Its showtime
Author Note:
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I HAVE ANOTHER FUCKING MIGRANE HELP ME