Insurrection Atoll (Rebel)

[Sisk_Renelo]

Bestine IV, a hole of a world. Rocky, raging seas, and with a penchant for nasty weather, it was the perfect place to lock people up that the Empire wanted to be forgotten. Originally settled in the hopes of creating an island paradise, it eventually became the perfect site for shipyards and construction docks. With its location along the inner rim, it was the perfect distance from the core. Close enough to keep an eye on, but far enough to forget about when necessary.

The YT-7130, christened the Long Shot, streaked through the upper atmosphere, its IFF transmitter proclaiming it to be an Imperial maintenance vessel. Inside, the small strike team was gathered in the cockpit, all four of them. Falen Gree sat in the pilot's chair, his red hair hidden under the tight fitting uniform cap of an Imperial maintenance chief, pulling uncomfortably at the material that was bunching up around his legs. Near his left hand sat a sheaf of flimsiplast, forged orders to inspect a leaky steam valve directly underneath the cell blocks, the authorization codes pulled from an Imperial computer link on Tatooine. They should provide the team with almost unfettered access to the facility and their computer system. Several toolboxes sat at the back of the cockpit, cleverly designed with false, sensor resistant bottoms that contained weapons, hacking tools, and other various odds and ends that would assist them. Underneath his stolen uniform, Falen wore a tight fitting armorweave vest, the heaviest protection he could conceal for this op.

Falen's right hand beat out a staccato rhythm on the control panel, awaiting confirmation from the flight tower to land, his eyes glued to the small comm screen. When the incoming signal indicator blinked, it took quite a bit of self control to not hit the answer button immediately. //Imperial maintenance vessel, you are cleared to land at pad 3. Sending you the coordinates now.// Falen nodded slowly, and hit the reply button.

//Roger that, Control. ETA 8 minutes.// His finger twitched, shutting off the feed, and he turned back to the rest of the group. "See, no problem." In actuality, he was glad the codes had worked. It wouldn't exactly be the best start to get shot out of the sky. The Long Shot had been stripped of pretty much every ounce of extra weight for this mission, the better to facilitate the removal of as many prisoners as possible. At full capacity, the team could remove up to 150 prisoners, if they all stood and didn't mind not having enough room for chest expansion when they breathed. And 150 prisoners was an optimistic number when one counted in the guards, security systems, and general atmosphere the team would have to get through. Falen had spent the last three weeks working on a plan that would allow the team to get through it, but no one could ever account for every variable, and SNAFU's always seemed to pop up in this kind of situation.

He adjusted his cap again, and activated the holoprojector built into the console. A schematic of the prison sprang into life, with several possible routes highlighted in a blood red. "Ok, lets go over this one more time. We enter here, through the South Gate, and make our way to the maintenance level, here, under the cell blocks. Once we get there, we gain access to one of the computers, and hit the prison with a mass opening of the violent offenders unit, located in the west block. That should pull the rapid response teams and most, if not all, of their control equipment away from us. Then, we shut down the security systems, open up the doors in between the south and east blocks to pad 3, and open the cells of the people we want. Should be pretty simple." His hands moved along the controls, preparing the ship for landing. "Any concerns?"

OOC thread​

 

[OhNoesBunnies]

The Empire was no slouch when it came to security. As the disguised shuttle of rebels began to descend from the stratosphere, they'd garner a positive--if not foggy--view of the massive landing pad designated for them; the smooth metal highlighted by several spot lights and standing high upon massive, armored struts overlooking one of the huge rings of the tiered prison fortress. Looming over the pad, however, was a problem. For massive pillars of metal stood tall at either 'side' of the circular landing pad, each obviously a threat: Turbolaser towers. Between two of them, a much smaller, but thicker tower could easily be identified as a tractor beam emitter. One of many clusters of turbolasers and tractor beams that decorated the perimeter of the fortress prison, all of which were likely automated in the event of a riot. This might have complicated things for the rebel landing party if they weren't already included in their plans. That, and the presence of Imperial Storm Troopers. On the pad they could see a small squad of them, their blistering white armor evident in the pale, but brilliant light of the landing pad. It seemed the Empire didn't just want to forget their enemies, they wanted them to stay forgotten. //Imperial Landing Shuttle, please transmit your ID Codes again and redirect to Pad 4.// There was no reason given, merely silence in time for a proper response from the "Maintenance Crew" coming to land. As they would pass landing Pad 3, they'd be witness to an Imperial Assault shuttle landing, the doors opening as prisoners were slowly escorted out. This may have complicated things, as it put them further away from the south gate, and closer to the north gate--which stood beside one of the barracks of the prison facility.

 

[The Kyzer]

"Yeah, yeah," Commander Risenfel replied to the pilot, "With how much we paid to get them, those codes had better work."

Kylis sat down and finished putting on his maintenance gear. Underneath was his usual attire: Taskmaster combat armor. His weaponry, however, as in a toolkit, one with a false bottom and sensor-masking layer. His identification tags said that he was Vander Darkbeam, Weapons Engineer and Ship Mechanic.

After Mr. Gree had finished outlining the plan for what seemed the hundredth time, Kylis smirked and opened the hidden compartment in his toolkit. He ran a quick check on all his weaponry and equipment one last time before sealing it up.

"And what do we do if the Imps catch on to us?" the Commander asked with a smile.

A second later, the request from the Imperial Control Tower came in, asking for them to retransmit and redirect.

"Or if they completely screw up the entire beginning of the plan?" he then asked, shaking his head.

 

[Dawyn]

The Fox’s icy blue eyes narrowed as they swept over the base as the freighter began its speedy descent through the cloudy atmosphere of Bestine IV, his ears barely paying attention to the chatter between his comrades as he surveyed the prison complex which they were to infiltrate. A shadow of a smirk played for a moment across his pale features, blue eyes flickering with warmth for just a moment at the clusters of large turbolaser towers which dotted the perimeter of the facility.

Typical Imperial mentality. Bigger is always better. Certainly effective against a vehicular ground assault. But what good do those massive, rigid blocks do against strikecraft smaller than freighters, piloted by any half-competent fighter pilot capable of changing their directory? Against prisoners who move in groups more organized and nimble than a large, disorganized mob? Not a single laser cannon in sight for those eventualities-woe to them if things don’t go their way, then.


His brow furrowed as he spotted smaller towers in between the turbolaser stacks. Tractor beam emitters-harmless enough on their own, but if used in conjunction with larger guns, they could prove to be more than a little bit difficult for what he had planned if things on the planet went wrong...but certainly not an insurmountable problem. Fingering his bearded chin, a chin which he had allowed to grow far more grizzled than usual to keep in character with his guise as a mechanic, he turned his view from the cockpit window and responded to Kylis.

“I have a little present prepared for them in the event that occurs. For now, though, let’s just hope they accept our invitation to this little party without asking too many questions. I’d hate to ruin their surprise early.”

Akadios’s words were light and confident, but his delivery was cold as he carefully brushed a few specks of dust off of his Imperial Engineer uniform. The Kanaris and her full complement of strikecraft waited a few light-seconds out of system in the void between the stars, just barely out of the range of long-range hyperspace scanners. A few simple words and an encrypted burst transmission from the comm device disguised as a religious pendant on the necklace underneath his uniform would bring them all into the planet’s orbit within moments if things went seriously awry-but unless they managed to knock out the fortress’s comm relay before then, the mission would be a critical failure. If he was forced to bring the frigate in, there would be little time to escape let alone pick up the prisoners if a distress signal was sent to the nearest Imperial Sector Fleet. The Fox was confident of his skills as a captain-but even he had his limits. For now, he would trust in the experience of his comrades-they were more experienced in such matters than he and he knew better than to comment on business he did not know.

Turning a focused gaze toward the fortress one more, he continued to study their target as they were directed to a landing pad. They may well have schematics-but such plans were not always up to date not entirely reliable, and he preferred to view his prey with his own eyes. After all, a fox had to know where to strike before he pounced.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Stretched out in a passenger's seat toward the cockpit's rear, Aelianus Atratinus listened closely to the others as they discussed the plan. His mechanic's cap was pulled down over his eyes, head cocked comfortably to one side. Over his uniform draped a thick protective coat, supposedly to protect from any superheated materials that could burn him while performing his duties. Over the course of the trip Aelianus had managed to stuff the coat with ceramic plating, furthering its heat resistance. He wasn't quite certain how it would fare against a blaster bolt, but he'd calculated quite well, especially if the bolt hit directly in the chest where the double-breasted coat overlapped.

It was the first operation he'd taken part in since being rescued from the wasteland of a world on which he'd spent twelve years, but he certainly wasn't out of practice. If anything that time as a castaway had only sharpened his senses. Even the terrible wound he'd suffered during his escape had healed wonderfully. Aelianus was in top form. The only thing that had suffered was his ability to interact with other sentient beings in a way that didn't make them want to murder him, and that had been a failing of his twelve years ago as well.

Aelianus carried little in the way of combat equipment. Mostly he'd simply taken what had been provided in the toolkits provided for each of the team. The only extras were a set of wooden slivers he'd soaked in neurotoxin and slipped into a plastic capsule which he'd hidden in his left boot and the hydrospanner on his belt that could be disassembled and reassembled into a three-shot blaster pistol if necessary. He didn't see himself making use of that function. Far more likely was the eventuality that he'd simply hurl it at the nearest target if things went sour.

It seemed they were going sour already.

The freighter redirected to another landing pad. Aelianus smirked. Now things would be interesting. Sour was always interesting.

He rolled his shoulders and straightened in his seat, looking at the members of his team. Twelve years ago he would've refused to engage in any sort of clandestine operation with a team. Teams were clumsy and unnecessary -- he worked a hundred times better solo. But for the immediate future he'd resolved to do anything the Rebellion asked of him. They'd rescued him and he wasn't so self-absorbed as to ignore the fact that he had a bit of a debt to pay off.

Stretching to loosen slightly stiff muscles, Aelianus adjusted his rumpled uniform and simply sat there as the freighter continued its descent.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

"Well, shit." Falen's hands moved across his console, inputting the codes again, and beaming them down to control on the surface. His eyes were locked to his screen, analyzing the new complications that had been presented to them. The increased distance, the barracks, the proximity to the north gate... This had just gotten a lot more difficult. He tapped in the new landing coordinates, and the deck shifted underneath them as the Long Shot adjusted slightly. Falen was muttering to himself, entering new possibilities into his datapad as he glared at the new information

"Maybe through the sewage system? That pipe comes out less than 20 meters from the pad. But that would be to slow, give the Imps a chance to see us. Power outage? No. Place like this is sure to have backups on backups on backups. No way to reliably hit them all. Mass escape? That could work. Send the ones we want a message, telling them to be ready, and then open every cell at once, kill the security feeds, internal defense system shutdown along the route, shut down the main generators, kill the turbos and the tracs, then make our way as fast as we can to the pad. Security on that is going to be tight though. Probably 15-20 layers of security. It'll take time. More than I had budgeted for." He was speaking quickly, quietly, and in a manner very difficult to understand, lost in the possibilities and the implications as the Long Shot swooped towards the pad. As his fingers danced across his screen, the holoprojected map wavered and flickered as the computer adjusted and readjusted with each change. As he tapped in the last few keystrokes, he nodded, satisfied, or at least as satisfied as he could be.

"Ok, new plan." His voice was strong as the landing pad grew closer. "We go in, and once we reach the 'maintenance issue', we split up. Kylis, you and Akadios will move here," His finger jabbed at a small room, off of the east block. "and crack into the armory. I'll provide you with a quick workaround that will overload their systems when you insert the datastick, and should open every armory door in the prison. Escaped convicts? Problem. Escaped Convicts with military grade weaponry? Huge problem. The ventilation system will provide you with access." A route highlighted itself on the map, laying out a twisted course from the maintenance level to the area outside the armory. "When you get there, insert the stick, but wait for my call to activate it. You do it to early, we're dead in the water." Several more commands were tapped out, and Falen's eyes darted over the projection.

"Aelianus, grab some explosives and take 'em with you. I need you to shut down their generators, at least the main two. You put some thorium on the main cooling pipes here, and here," The map zoomed in, highlighting the main generators, and the cooling systems that fed them. "It'll force a shutdown of the reactors, otherwise the whole place goes boom once the rods overheat. Once it's on, wait for my signal to blow it, and we'll give em a whole heap of trouble everywhere at once." The pad was growing even closer, and Falen was in a hurry to finish laying out what needed to be done.

"I'll find a quiet console, and hack into their systems. It'll take some time to penetrate so deep, so be patient. Don't worry. This'll work. It will." Falen breathed in deep, and watched the timer. 4 minutes to touchdown. Underneath his breath, quietly so the rest couldn't hear, he spoke again. "At least I hope it'll work."

 

[OhNoesBunnies]

As the shuttle neared, the comms lit up once again but this time with a different voice--a female one. //Imperial Maintenance Crew, please slow your descent and wait further instructions. We're having some trouble verifying your Imperial Codes... Please hold your position.// With that, they would hear the familiar sound of screeching repulsors as two gunships adorned in the typical black and white colors of the Imperium swept upward from below until they were level with--and facing--the Imperial Shuttle filled with the supposed maintenance crew. Without any warning, several large floodlights kicked on from the gunships, filling the canopy of the shuttle's cockpit with brilliant white light. Then the comms lit up once more. //Sorry for that, your ID Codes have been confirmed; welcome to Bestine IV. Be advised upon landing, your persons will be briefly searched and your vessel scanned. Also be wary, there's a storm approaching. If you're not out of here in twenty we'll have to ground your flight until it passes. Copy.// They would offer no response after that, and as landing pad 4 came into view they would see the massive defenses were identical to 3's. On the pad itself, a squad of Stormtroopers and regular Imperial Military had gathered--the welcoming party of course--in preparation for scanning the ship and guiding the personnel in. At that point, the gunships floodlights flickered off and they pulled away, heading over to another pad where another shuttle was inbound.

 

[The Kyzer]

To be honest, Kylis had a bad feeling about this mission, but he kept it to himself. There was no sense in undermining Falen's support, and it was a little test-run of sorts of his leadership ability. If things did go to hell, Kylis would have to take over, no questions asked. He was glad that, at the very least, this team was built of professionals.

The Commander had just finished engaging the seals on the false-bottom of his toolkit when he heard the rumble of gunships. Kylis chuckled slightly, and moved to sit in the copilot's seat just before the gunships reached the freighter's altitude. Luckily his face had been changed enough from injuries and medical surgeries to not register properly as Kylis Risenfel, Captain in the Galactic Alliance.

Now the feeling got worse, and he realized the problem. They'd already failed the mission.

"Alright boys, we have a problem, something I should have seen before now. As such, I'm assuming full-command," Kylis announced, "The Imperials are on to us, because of what we're flying in. No maintenance crew would ride, and especially pilot, their own freighter. They'd have a shuttle...an Imperial shuttle. Mister Gree, we need to get out of here, now. This operation's a bust. Mister Katsaros, Mister Atratinus, if you could be so kind as to man the weapons. Mister Gree, give them a wobble to feign mechanical problems."

Then he examined the gunships. VAAT/i's. Quick, but slower than the YT-7130, but probably more maneuverable.

"Gunners, prepare to power up weaponry now. Falen, go evasive when ready, starting with a full Immelman to get us away from those turrets," Kylis ordered just before thumbing the communications-feed switch.

//Control, we're experiencing some technical difficulties. Our lateral control unit is failing. We're going to have to return to base for repairs, as we cannot pull off a landing with this equipment.//

Kylis then flicked off the feed again.

"Alright, open fire when ready lads," Kylis ordered. He began shunting power from the freighter's reactor until power output was a maximum. The shields were brought up, and extra power from the life-support was drawn to quicken the charging of the weaponry.

Then Kylis saw something on his console before him.

"Wait, belay that Mister Gree," Kylis replied, a small semblance of an idea running through his mind, "Well, gentleman, should we fight or run?"

 

[Dawyn]

The Fox’s eyes took on a dangerous, mischievous sheen as they fixated on the targeting screen before him. He should have noted the full range of the freighter’s weaponry before, but his attention had been drawn toward studying the layout of the prison in an attempt to locate its vitals. While he hadn’t been able to discover all of them-he had seen the one he had been lusting to sink his teeth into the entire time. The communications array-situated on top of one of the prison’s taller structures in order to ensure a clear signal capable of long-range transmission. The major stumbling block in any attempt at exfiltration if things went wrong.

Glancing down at the schematics of the freighter which he had pulled up, he saw what Kylis had in mind. If they had those , then those gunships would be hard pressed to stand a chance-especially if fired upon at this range. Straightening himself in his chair, he half-turned it to face the Commander. Sharp blue eyes staring deep into Kylsis’s, he began to speak, his voice cold as ice on a winter morning.

“There are times to fight, and there are times to run Commander.”

Pausing for a moment, he smiled cooly as he relayed the plan that had begun to crystallize in his head.

“Today is a day to fight…and I think I might just have a plan to make sure they, and not us, are the ones that will become one with the Force…”

With that, he began to outline his plan to the commander, words rolling off his tongue quickly and quietly. If they took too long, the Imperials would notice that they had powered up their shields and weapons, but if they did not take the time to come up with a plan, none of them would be getting out of there alive. There was simply no way a freighter would be able to evade that many turbolasers and two gunships without being blasted out of the sky. Running was equivalent to suicide-and even if they lived, they would be haunted by this failure until the end of their days.

When he had finished speaking, he gave a grim nod to Kylis.

“It’s up to you sir. We may very well die if we go through with this plan, but if we run now we’ll die just as sure a death-only on the inside. We’ll be exactly like the Jedi who abandoned us when the Empire sacked Coruscant-cowards letting our comrades die because we were afraid. If it was up to me sir, I’d rather die a Rebel if there was any chance this mission would succeed than die a traitor who abandoned my own. We are the last hope that the galaxy has-whatever else we are, whoever else we may be, that is what we have to be."

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Falen looked back, his face aghast. "Really, you want to crash my ship? Really? To save people we can come back for with a proper force and updated intel? Are you insane?" His hands danced across the console, prepping his weaponry, stopping Kylis' commands to shunt power to the weapons systems and shields. If they did a sudden reactor burn, every sensor in that base would light up, and they would definitely get shot down. They had to build a reservoir, and then push it all at once. That was the great thing about Corellian Engineering. You could hide everything until you were ready to go. "And sir, with all due respect, you touch the systems on my ship without my go-ahead again, I'll take that hand away from you."

His eyes were checking the sensor readings, his fingers working on a flight path. Akadios was right, there was no way to get out of here without being shot down, although his grandstanding in this situation was unneeded. They all knew what they would have been leaving behind, and while it may have been a scrubbed mission, it's not like they could never come back. Falen never understood the need to lay out reasoning in situations like this. Give a plan, plain and simple, and let it go at that. "But Akadios, you're right. Full gear is in the starboard cargo bay. You have 90 seconds to get in and grab a repulsor pack and your armor. That's about as long as I can keep this up." The gunships were giving the other shuttle the same treatment, and Falen activated a passive thermal scan, looking for humanoid heat signatures. Once he found those, he could program the concussion missiles and turrets to auto aim at them. One of them had to get through. Mandalorian Gunships only boasted a single set of shield generators, which meant it could be ray or particle shielding, but not both. He also activated a quick computer code to triangulate the source of the long range comm jamming on the ground, piggybacking it on the constant stream of info between his vessel and the prison control. After a few seconds, the console beeped, and displayed that the source was the comm tower near the barracks. Good. Falen could smash the ship into that, and not only remove the obstacle that would prevent them from calling for help, but take out a good number of stormtroopers and guards as well.

That assault shuttle could be a problem, but he could be very inventive. He opened up another console, and set a course for his escape pod, setting it for a full burn right into the grounded shuttle. Even though it wouldn't be explosive, but at full speed, it was heavy enough that a hit anywhere on the shuttle would render it inoperable, smashing the hull and making it unsafe to even try and lift off.

"There you are, you bastards." His scans had gained a good lock on the pilots of the gunships. Commands were quickly entered, and Falen checked his power feeds. Another 45 seconds until he could spring into action, and until then, he had other things to take care of. Underneath his seat was his Cobalt armor, neatly packed and ready to go, along with an emergency repulsor pack built into the back of his chair. Neatly slotted into the frame on his right side was his sniper rifle, held in place by custom fitted straps. He bent at the waist, and opened the toolbox, tossing the cover tools on top away, before placing his index and middle finger on the scanner inside. It hummed quietly, and then the bottom popped open as it confirmed his identity. Laid neatly into cushioning inside were his dual heavy pistols, a long range comm unit, and his slicing gear.

He grabbed them all, and then checked the ship's chrono. It was counting down with what seemed to be an alarming speed. The prison underneath was growing steadily larger, as Falen dropped altitude to give the illusion of compliance with the holding pattern. His hand reached out, and activated the shipwide comm.//10 seconds! Everyone make your way to the escape hatch! And hold onto something!// With one last check that his gear was securely strapped to him, the weapons on his body, the repulsor on his back, and the duffel bag containing his armor looped around his torso, he gave one last adjustment to the controls, wishing The Long Shot a smooth final journey.

Ten years. He had been with the Shot for ten years. She was a good ship, and had gotten him and his team out of more bad situations than he could count, never failing, never giving him any problems. Every ding in her hull was a story, every scratch a tale. And although he knew deep down inside that it was silly to be so attached to a ship, he would miss her. "Goodbye, old girl. I'm sorry it has to end like this."

The countdown hit zero, and Falen took hold of the control yoke with his right hand. His left reached out, and activated a full power shunt. Every watt of reserve power was fed into the weapons systems, targeting systems, and shields, while the reactor went into a full burn. The lights on the console burned with the intensity of miniature suns, and within a quarter second, the targeting computer had locked onto the heat signatures in the gunship cockpits, giving him a solid tone.

"Burn in hell."

Falen depressed the trigger, sending the command for the slaved weapons systems to fire on his targets, feeling the solid thump thump thump as the concussion missile launchers fore and aft discharged their payloads, and the linked quad turrets opened fire as well. It didn't matter what those pilots did, they were dead. He heard a loud bang from the aft as the escape pod jettisoned, and he swore that he could hear the miniature engines in it activate, sending it streaking towards its target. The weaponry fired, and Falen hauled back on his stick, sending The Long Shot into a vertical climb, the slight twist with his wrist sending the ship into a spiral, to help throw off the targeting feeds of the turbolasers below.

 

[OhNoesBunnies]

//Rebel Freighter if you do not land upon Pad 4 as directed in ten seconds, we will open fire.// The comms suddenly squawked during the delay. One by one, each turbo-laser cluster turned its attention towards the freighter that had stalled. It seemed the Imperials hadn't been fooled from the get go, and were hoping to catch them off guard. Now it looked like everyone was about to have a fight on their hands. //This is your last warning. Under Imperial Law you are to surrender your vessel on Pad 4 and come out with your hands up.// The comms were cut the moment Falen engaged the slave turrets; the two gunships exploding in a burst of brilliant blue light as flame spat from the wounds in the falling hulks. The nearby shuttle was nearly then split in half by the ejecting escape pod, its midsection lit aflame by the impact and the pad it was situated on rendered nearly useless. The Rebels had given their reply. The Imperials responded with a cloud of turbolaser fire. All five clusters opened up on the freighter as it peeled upwards into the sky, the drives burning brightly. Despite its dance, the target was too big to weave like a fighter and its hull was razed with a constant barrage of fire from the armored towers. The deflectors would have stood up for less than a minute before the hull of the ship itself began to peel with each burst. Some of the turbolasers even got lucky, hitting the engines and even knocking one of them out. It would only be a matter of seconds before the ship itself was destroyed and the mission--and a few good men--were lost. Then, without warning it happened... Below, the control tower lit up as several gas mains damaged during the Assault Shuttle's crash to the pad ignited. Explosions rocked the perimeter of the prison and suddenly the turbolaser defenses ceased firing on the already doomed freighter. Their attention now turned downward, controlled by Imperial Gunners of course, frantically trying to determine what had happened. Then things only got worse for everyone... the storm had hit. With heavy clouds already overhead, wind sheers swept in and fanned the already brilliant flames, encouraging them to lap over into other sectors of the prison. It was chaos.

 

[The Kyzer]

Boom....boom....boom...

Kylis could feel his own pulse in the depths of his chest as he ran through Akadios' plan. It wasn't pretty, but the younger man was right. Today was a day to fight. However, Falen's complaints regarding his ship being crashed and touching his controls very nearly sent the commander into a momentary rage. He took a solid breath and calmed his nerves. He made a mental note that, if they survived, Kylis would include that in his report.

"Alright, Akadios," Kylis announced, "I'm approving your plan. Let's get to work."

Kylis then leapt out of the copilot's chair, grabbed his toolbox, and rushed through the corridors of the light freighter, using the standard hand-rails to keep his balance while Falen performed maneuvers. One never knew when the artificial gravity might fail in a battle. He trusted that Akadios and Aelianus would follow him. As soon as he was in the starboard cargo bay, Kylis popped the miniature explosives in his toolkit, revealing the false-bottom.

The Rebel Commander quickly retrieved his weaponry and holstered it safely. He then slung the emergency repulsor-pack to his back and tightened the straps. He heard Falen's notice of 10 seconds until evac, and moved to the side of the hatch. He gripped the handle bar next to it and ensured the others could buckle-down. He heard the solid thumps of the concussion missiles leaving their tubes followed by the sound of blaster fire.

"Alright guys, we're only going to have one shot at this," Kylis declared just before Falen pulled the freighter into a climb. Turbolaser blasts grazed the sides of the freighter's shields, then began punching through in some areas. A powerful explosion accompanied by a heavy shudder made Kylis' heart sink. He half-expected the sudden flash of heat before the freighter turned into a rapidly expanding ball of gas, but it never came.

"Engine's out," Kylis yelled loudly over the alarms from the failing systems, "We need to get out now! All together! Akadios! Call for aid now. Those Imps might have called for aid already, but their fleet should be at least thirty minutes or more out-system!"

Kylis would push the escape latch's explosive bolt-detonators when they were ready.

"Falen!" Kylis yelled into his commlink, "Make sure we take out that comms array!"