Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Sean Brandt, Christopher Levy, and Sarah Riggs-Shute.
Zero years after the Battle of Yavin (35:10:23) in the Essesia system: Adventurer, Interrogator, and Warspite.
El-Nay Darr, Lieutenant Bernard Dunford, Captain Serra Eona, Lieutenant Meham'ohorovi'cloca, Dimona Xirie Nuebla, High Inquisitor Serine Thanor, and Flight Captain Randi Trainor.

The Imperial ll-class Destroyer Interrogator was being hailed by an unauthorized Kazellis-class light freighter by the name of Adventurer with request to board. Lieutenant Dunford was quick to answer the hail with further inquiries for specifics. "State your business and access code." he asked coldly while simultaneously attempting to scan the transponder of the approaching freighter. Apparently he was having some difficulties getting a clean scan, likely because of an active scrambler unit or perhaps it was even dismantled by the pilot. Eyes narrowed with a sharp suspicion. The pit crew had been notified earlier that the High Inquisitor may be expecting a Bounty Hunter to arrive. This very well may be her but he remained cautious all the same. "Your business and access code." He repeated again after waiting a few moments, his voice clearly more agitated than before.

Meanwhile aboard the Adventurer, Dimona was scrambling to find where she had written down the access code El-Nay told her, or did she even write it down? Damnit, she couldn't remember! Various sized objects were being thrown around in a mad dash to locate that bit of information. How could she forget a detail so obvious? She was usually so good at planning, spending weeks gathering intel on her targets be they living or inanimate. "Hey hun!" She yelled at the still unconscious El-Nay that lay sprawled on a dining room table while tossing things arbitrarily in her search. "What the hell was that access code again?!" She asked out of frustration with no expectation of an answer. "There goes my whole genius plan! Damn! Well ... improv time." Realizing there was no hope of providing the required access code she decided that the best course of action was a forceful one. Not once did it ever occur to her that this was insane, that she would likely be killed, that she was running arms open right into the villains that wanted her captured. All of that meant nothing, because this would be the most intense thrill ride of her entire life, and only that mattered to her.

El-Nay's left eye opened slowly, but she had suffered so many blows to the head that she was unable to see clearly. It did not help that her right eye was completely swollen shut either. The broken Mandalorian had never experienced as much pain as she was feeling at this moment. The boulder had crushed her legs, the sledgehammer had shattered her left arm, and her face was smashed beyond all recognition. The woman was unable to move, so she simply lay there motionless, emanating a series of soft, pathetic groans. She could hear noise from the cockpit, but she was too disoriented to make out individual words. At this point, the poor creature wished that Dimona had simply executed her.

"We are going in hot!" Dimona nearly dived into the pilot seat and activated the freighter's thrusters causing the Adventurer to surge towards the underside of Interrogator. There was no way anyone would expect this, no one can properly plan for this kind of crazy. The hangar bay doors to the Interrogator were completely open to allow scheduled exercises and shipments. "Child's play. Let's go." A normal person would be slowing down to land by now, but Dimona increasingly sped up. This was well beyond the recommended speed for landing and it was dangerously close to suicide. The freighter rocketed towards the hangar bay opening with no obstacles in its path and on too short of a notice to be tractor beamed. However, there were plenty of obstacles within the hangar bay to slow down the blistering speed of the vessel. Adventurer erupted through with massive explosions all around as the ship rammed into every TIE fighter and Lambda class shuttle currently docked. The damage and chaos was catastrophic with whole fighters, burning debris and mangled technicians somersaulting through the air to further collide and explode surrounding gear in a chain reaction of death and destruction. Shrapnel detonated in all directions impaling dozens of storm troopers and officers that had been performing drills. The freighter lost enough speed to smash onto the deck but its momentum continued to coast the vessel across the hangar bay, the ship grinding huge gouges into the durasteel. Equipment, cargo and personnel carriers were all crushed beneath the hefty ship. The destructive path of the flaming freighter was finally halted as it bashed into the side of Darkened Oblivion, pulverizing both ships in the process, leaving them smoldering wreckages.

Flight Captain Randi Trainor had only been recently assigned to the Interrogator, and as it was a newer design it was still taking her some time to get used to. She took to spending large amounts of time in the hanger bay, where she could spend time working on the Darkened Oblivion and meeting the other pilots. The sudden arrival of the light freighter caught her off guard, which resulted in her spitting out the ice cream that was currently in her mouth. Terrified, she dropped her bowl of ice cream, rose from the supply crate she had been sitting on, and ran for dear life. "Holy shit you guys! Run!" she exclaimed in a panic, as she dove behind a series of crates with a bunch of other pilots and officers. The wing of a TIE fighter flew over their heads, impacting the bulkhead in front of them, raining down fire and debris. Randi placed both of her hands over her head and began to sing as loud as she could, trying to block out the noise around her, and the disembodied voices of the dead pilots that she constantly experienced audible hallucinations of. "Uh. You guys see that, right?" she asked, but when she opened her eyes, the pilots she had just before seen had vanished ... burnt to a smoldering crisp. "Oh no. It's happening again!" she screamed, as she ran from the hanger to find her safe space.

Aboard the nearby Warspite, Lieutenant Meham'ohorovi'cloca was methodically performing her duties as tactical officer. As the force was building around them, she was working to improve efficiency in anti-Rebel starfighter patrols by coordinating the various squadrons from the additional capital ships that had recently arrived in the Essesia system. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly her scanners began to indicate something was wrong aboard the Interrogator, the newly arrived command ship of the High Inquisitor. Something was very wrong, she thought silently to herself as the ship's icon pulsated on her terminal indicating explosions. She considered reporting it to her superiors, but ultimately suspected that it was a combination of Captain Trainor's unorthodox piloting and Inquisitor Thanor's temperament causing the issue. As everyone aboard the Warspite was still on edge following her recent tumultuous visit, she ultimately felt it was inadvisable to trouble them with her again so soon.

Sparks and minor explosions erupted all around the dilapidated and derelict Adventurer that continued to bellow smoke and flames. There was an appalling granulating clatter as the ramp attempted to lower from the ruined ship but the strain was too much. The hydraulics holding it up nearly disintegrated causing the whole ramp to collapse to the ground in a jumbled disarray, leaving Dimona standing in the cratered opening to her once stunning freighter gawking at the mass chaos she had caused. Just as many sparks were coming from inside of the vessel as flaring from outside the vessel. The fortune seeker was awkwardly leaning the majority of her weight upon a broken pipe to prop her equally broken body up. A twisted durasteel rod protruded from her chest which had imbedded deep and punctured a lung. Every breath was agonizing and caused more blood to fill the damaged organ. There were multiple hideous lacerations across her body that ripped through her tattered armorweave, and bright crimson was oozing from every one. Dimona was dying and she knew it, but that fact did not diminish the look of pure bliss in her hazy unfocused eyes. The flight of the crash landing was incredible and she had the best seat in the house. Slowly she peered around the massive wreckage of the hangar bay, the best she could with her vision going in and out, and found that each detail was more interesting than the last. "Oh... Oh!" Dimona started to laugh causing her to cough spurts of blood. "How pissed are you guys!?"

The most stable portion of the Adventurer happened to be the dining table that El-Nay had been strapped to ... if she had been anywhere else she likely would have been killed. Sparks flew all around her as the ship crashed badly, causing parts of the bulkhead to fall upon her. She had no idea what was going on with the freighter, but if it was bad for Dimona it was likely good for her. The smallest of smiles crept upon her bruised and bleeding lips, which was actually quite the painful experience given her current condition. She nearly laughed at the situation, but all that happened was a cough, which caused blood to spill out onto her chin. Hopefully whatever was happening would kill them both, she would be happy with that outcome.

First responders were rushing to the disaster scene. Medics, droids, technicians with fire extinguishers and soon a full squad of Stormtroopers were pouring in. Initially, to them this looked like a horrendous technical and service malfunction, a terrible accident, not a purposeful intrusion. It became more apparent later that this was the result of one woman's irrational antics. A series of coughs convulsed Dimona's form, causing large blotches of blood to coat her hands with excess splatting on the ground. She knew she was losing consciousness soon, and that was a real shame because now she had mere moments to savor the most amazing feat of her life before she succumbed to death. "My name's Dimona, Hi." She waved a bloodied hand towards a few of the first responders that paused to gape at her. "I heard that you guys..." Her sentence was broken with a fit of wheezing before she struggled to continue. "...were looking for me, so I thought I would drop in for a meet and greet." Another sequence of grisly coughs and hacks shook her body before she wearily leaned up against the bulkhead, finding it increasingly difficult to support her own weight upon the durasteel rod. "I gotta say, I would do this again ... but I only had enough tickets ... for one ride." Said between ragged breaths. "I got some shit ... in the back ... her name is El-Nay..." She motioned weakly behind her, sparks continued to splay across the flooring. "...I think you left her ... on my doorstep by mistake ... you can have her back." A darkness began to cover her vision as Dimona's eyes fluttered then rolled backwards into their sockets. As she lost consciousness, her shoulder slid off of where she had propped it, causing her body to dive from the opening to collide with the deck a meter below.

A short digital tone, repeating every few seconds, accompanied a flash of light from an alert indicator in the corner of the console in Captain Serra Eona's quarters. The signal meant that an emergency had been sounded somewhere aboard the ship. The DL-18, which she had been cleaning, was set aside on her desk as she activated the console to see just what the alert was for. A ship of unknown origin flew into the Interrogator at high speed. No further details at present. Serra narrowed her eyes slightly, calling up a real-time feed of the alerts. At first it was a matter of patience, sitting and waiting for the automated reports to filter in. She plucked a cigarra from the case near where the DL-18 now sat and lit it, drawing the smoke into her lungs and letting it filter out in a slow exhale while the screen sat silent. Eventually a new feed came through. The craft was unidentified still, but it was not of Imperial origin. Emergency crews had been dispatched. Casualties confirmed. Finally, several stills of the hanger bay, which were logged for archival purposes, popped into view. Serra leaned in, trying to glean what she could from the slow but steady stream of information.

High Inquisitor Thanor had been leisurely combing through old ISB records in her personal chambers, trying to discover anything of value regarding Jelena Rodney when suddenly there was an intense vibration that jittered her desk, causing data disks and small items to go skittering to the floor. She instantly shot up in alarm, sensing through the disturbance in the Force that the turmoil was centered in the hangar bay. She burst from her room in an uproar and rushed through the corridors that were already a bustle of activity in reaction to the disaster. Dashing patrons quickly stepped aside to press their backs to the wall as Serine made her way through. No matter how important their duties were, they were far less important than whatever their High Inquisitor may be doing. Soon Serine neared the entry point to the hangar bay where she caught the attention of an officer directing the first responders. "High Inquisitor!" he said out of complete surprise. "The area is extremely unstable, it is not safe to..!" His sentence was cut dramatically short as he found himself colliding hard with durasteel as the High Inquisitor stormed past. The moment she took a step into the war zone, she gasped heavily in complete horror, overwhelmed by the massive amount of destruction all around. There were so many things ablaze, it was difficult to focus on any one area, the whole place was a catastrophe. Every advance further inside she took, she had to step over a shattered crate, or a smoking piece of wreckage or a disembodied limb. The cacophony of activity inside made it all the harder to concentrate. The deep gouges left by a freighter that led from the hangar bay opening all the way down were finally noticed and Serine traced the path with increasing concern until she spotted the remains of her personal craft, Darkened Oblivion. The initial shock devastated her, and she found herself stumbling back in dismay with heavy gasps as she struggled and choked to get air in.

The medical support staff eventually made their way into the battered remnants of the Adventurer, where they discovered the unexpected sight of El-Nay Darr strapped to the table. At first they did not expect that the woman was alive, but to their amazement she was breathing. They waited until a technician could cut directly into the hull so that they could more directly move the wounded Mandalorian out on a repulsorbed. The young woman barely recognized the figures and droids who were hovering around her, but as the breathmask was placed over her, she began to understand she was receiving medical attention. As she tilted her head to the side the most unpleasant image came into view ... Dimona had survived the ordeal and was being attended to as well. Still alive, she thought to herself, bitterly, as her right hand clenched into an angry fist. It would take time for her to return to form, but she vowed right then and there she would get her revenge on the psychotic thief.

No one dared approach the High Inquisitor despite her apparent trauma, the best they could do was their jobs and hope her ire did not fall upon them. Serine shuffled forward, still having difficulty composing herself before realizing that Randi would have been in the midst of this chaos. There were only a few individuals the High Inquisitor had any fondness for, and that batty pilot was one of them. Quickly eyes scanned the wreckage around her as she rapidly made her way towards the ruined outer hull of the once stunning spacecraft. This whole debacle was too soon for there to be any proper count of casualties and contorted disfigured bodies were still being pulled out of searing rubble. She rushed right past medical teams carrying away both El-Nay Darr and Dimona Xirie Nuebla, not realizing their part in this heavy disaster, and her attention was too focused upon the Darkened Oblivion and any signs of life from her pilot. "Randi?!" She called while negotiating and passing under a toppled TIE fighter until she stood before her ship. Perhaps Randi sought solace in the safety inside and was unharmed by the pandemonium outside. A hand attempted to key in her access code into the panel but the request triggered it to smoke and then detonate into sparks. Serine snarled out of pure frustration, fury and concern. "Randi!" She screamed bitterly at the ramp that refused her access and in moments it was hurdling through the air with incredible speed to imbed itself in the bulkhead, luckily sparing anyone injury. The inside fared just as poorly as the outside. Huge portions of the ceiling had collapsed, dangerous chemical and electrical fires danced across the grating and severed cables flickered and spasmed in unpredictable patterns. "Randi...?" She choked out as her face was hit by a bellow of smoke that had been building inside the ship. Serine could barely see through the smothering vapors but she realized that if the pilot attempted to ride out the storm in here, she would have surely perished.

Back in her quarters, which were much nicer than the ones she had aboard the Warspite, as these were provided to her by the Inquisitor herself, Randi Trainor lay in bed, wrapped in a blanket. She was eating ice cream directly out of the carton with an oversized spoon, as she attempted to self medicate the trauma from earlier. *Om nom nom* filled the room as she devoured much of it, but nearly as much was getting splattered upon her round face. On the HoloNet she was tuned into a guilty pleasure: The Real Huttwives of Nal Hutta. She laughed hysterically throughout the program at the exploits of the rich and fabulous Hutts, ignorantly oblivious of all that was happening several decks below. If she knew the specialized assault ship she had been transferred abroad to pilot had been ruined it was doubtful the entire galley had enough ice cream to improve her mood. "Ya want some, pup?" she asked, as she offered the spoon to the Inquisitor's nexu. The nexu eagerly devoured much of the ice cream ... too much in fact for her liking. She recoiled quickly to protect what was left, and then went right back to using the same spoon, without cleaning it after it had been in the creature's mouth. "Yuck! We gotta talk to Serry about brushing your teeth," she said, but even that did not dissuade her to continue to gobble down the frozen dessert.

Data on the incident was only coming through in slow, automated chunks, which Serra had been watching ever since the first report. This, as much as anything else, was something she had become well adapted to. Sit, and watch, and wait. The dim lighting of her quarters highlighted the glow of the console against her features, occasionally masked by a haze of smoke as she worked on her second cigarra. New images were coming through, this time with greater detail. The wreckage was becoming gradually clearer as the emergency responders got the various fires under control and cleared debris. She didn't know the ship, of course...but that in itself was telling. Not just anyone would go ramming into an Imperial vessel of any kind so recklessly. Further reports, this time automated updates from the medical bridge. She had seen a dozen or so already fly by, but up until now every entry had been Imperial personnel. This time was different. Specifications and physical details followed the initial entry, along with a description of injuries. One of those physical descriptions sparked a note of familiarity in the Intelligence Officer's memory. The bounty hunter...the young Mandalorian. Had she gone rogue? Decided to use her temporary clearance to make an attack against the Empire? Serra sat back, weighing her options, debating how to proceed. Eventually she activated her desk comm and called to the hangar control center of the Warspite. "This is Captain Serra Eona, requesting immediate short-range transport. Any ship will do, but it needs to be ready to leave when I arrive. Destination is the Interrogator. Send advance alert of my arrival." She finished the cigarra, snuffed it out, then got dressed. There was work to be done.

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