No Fate But What We Make

[Dashiel Starborn]

The Outer Rim Territories - Relgim Sector

An hour had passed since the shuttle had departed the Kwenn Space Station, the last refuelling point before the Mid Rim gave way to the rugged frontier of the Outer Rim Territories. Aboard the shuttle, the pilot and his four passengers sat in inscrutable silence. Some peered out of the forward viewport, trying to get a glimpse of Ord Trasi as the blue world loomed larger and larger ahead. Others kept their eyes on the ground or on some indistinct point, anywhere that meant they weren't looking at one another. Grace Van-Derveld fell into the latter group, or at least Dash supposed as much. It was difficult to tell what she was studying, behind the glasses she wore. The Director could have been looking back at him, wondering what he was gawking at. That thought made him glance away, down at his hands which had folded unconsciously together, as if he were praying.

The pilot broke the silence with a cough then spoke, and the muted sound of beeping told Starborn that he was accessing some of the shuttle's computer systems.

“ETA thirty minutes and counting. Half of that and we'll be within sensor range.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena sat back in her seat. She'd never been to Ord Trasi, but was aware of the Imperial shipyards that circled the planet. She had done extensive research on most of the Empire's ship building facilities, but nothing in the last few years.

A look out of the viewport had not revealed anything very special about the planet, at least from this far out. She lightly licked her lips, and then suddenly sneezed. She grimaced a bit and sniffed, looking at Agent Starborn a little apologetically. The Director was silent, whether she was concentrating on the upcoming mission or brooding was hard to tell.

De'Ville felt strange being part of a group, but it was a good strange.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The Director kept her eyes fixated in front of her as she mentally went over the stolen schematics of this facility, but she had a bad feeling about this mission. All too often, partial intelligence would be gathered or one of her people would perish in providing information to the Alliance. This particular mission in retrieving schematics for the Ord Trasi shipywards had cost them nothing. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and the Advisory Council sanctioned the mission. Grace did not believe in luck and her paranoia about sending a team to sabotage them is why she was accompanying the team.

"We'll be coming up in sensor range ETA three minutes," she said and looked sharply towards towards the entire group. "Game faces on now."

It was simple on the datapad. Infiltrate the shipyard as replacement mechanics. Split up into two groups and in the strategic locations that were discussed in the briefing, set charges that appeared like power condensers with a remote trigger. At their next 'break', they were going to use the ruse of heading down planet side for recreation and detonate the devices once the calculation to jump was programed into the nav computer. It was a simple plan but Grace didn't live this long believing anything was ever easy.

[Dashiel Starborn]

As he buttoned up the high-necked collar of his Imperial engineers uniform, Dash had to admire how realistic the tunic felt – as stuffy and rigid as an authentic Imperial uniform. In addition to their disguises, the group had been given false identification. The men and women they were replacing had taken ill rather unexpectedly and it was no coincidence that they would spend at least a week in sick-bay, heaving up their insides.

“Entering sensor range,” the pilot confirmed, as the group straightened out their cuffs and collars. “Transmitting our security clearance and docking codes.”

There was a long tense silence and Dash listened for the sound of the ships computer bleeping in response. A minute passed and finally they were acknowledged.

“Alright, we've got our approach vector. Syncing our navi-computer with the facilities automated docking systems... and we're set. If you've got any last minute preparations to make, now's the time. We'll be on deck in ten minutes.”

Dash took a deep breath as he watched Ord Trasi and the orbital facility loom larger in front of the main view port, until at last the hangar bay itself yawned wide to admit them. The shields slid soundlessly shut behind them, sealing the shuttle into the facility with a finality that immediately - regardless of how well he hid it - set Starborn on edge.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena kept silent, her hair swept back from her face with clips that conformed to Imperial regulations. She eased a finger under her collar to relieve a bit of the itch that was building up beneath the wool fabric, and tugged on her cuffs to straighten the sleeves.

Her facial scar was carefully covered with makeup, and she'd barely recognized herself in the mirror before they'd boarded the shuttle. She looked the part of a fresh faced junior technician, worlds away from a battle hardened and ragged terror suspect. Agent Starborn, Dashiel, inhaled deeply as the shuttle penetrated the atmospheric shielding of the hangar.

They landed with a soft thump, and she unbuckled her restraints, standing up and rolling her head a little to relieve the stiffness of the flight. She was calm. This was just like when she'd blown up the bacta factory on Thyferra... except nothing at all like it. Lilaena found that she was holding her breath as well, and carefully exhaled, her green eyes on her companions.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She quickly checked over her gear - which was nothing spectacular. It was standard issued Imperial jumpsuit and tool belt. What was striking was the short black wig that the director was now wearing and brown contacts. Having become adept at switching her looks several times in one day for a mission, such a simple attire took little effort on her part.

As for her partner on the mission, her normally rigid face broke into a reassuring smile as the Director nudged the woman sitting across from her, sensing that woman was nervous. "Just follow my lead. You'll be all right."

Tess was not green to field ops, but she on the other hand her experience was not expansive. At least most of the normal Corellian hotheadedness had simmered down since enlisting with the Rebellion. "Yeah," she responded before her eyes lingered down at the duffel bag securely fastened against the bulkhead. Within it contained the parts of the bomb that she and Grace were going to plant on the station. Squaring her shoulders as if more confidence had been boosted from thin air, she nodded towards her superior. "I mean yes."

[Dashiel Starborn]

On his feet, Dash looked to his partner for the mission, the newcomer Lilaena De'ville. He nodded. “Let's move out,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

The landing ramp lowered with a precise hissss and their first glimpse of the staff aboard the Ord Trasi orbital shipyards was a row of white plastoid boots and shin-guards. An officer in a black cap and dress uniform stood at the centre of the nine-man squadron, fresh-faced as any cadet just out of the academy. With his hands crossed at the small of his back, and the polished boot heels clicked together, he angled his chin upwards as he appraised the newly arrived engineering crew. His eyes fixed pointedly on Dash himself, who stood with his shoulders squared and his spine as stiff as a durasteel rod.

“Your papers, specialist.”

For an instant, Starborn wondered why he was being singled out – but of course, it only took that fleeting thought to clarify the issue in his mind. From a team of four, he was the only... well, he. The legions of the Empire were fiercely loyal to their Empress, but they were not beyond chauvinism when it came to their day-to-day business. Deciding to play along and brusquely took charge of the team, collecting their individual identification papers for presentation. Before he presented them to the officer, he shuffled them together neatly and muttered something about incompetence as he turned one that was upside down the right way up.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena had never been surrounded by quite so many Imperial loyalists all at once. But she kept her pulse steady, looking as smart and crisp as a low level tech should after being cooped up in a shuttle for hours. That is to say, slightly wilted and wide-eyed.

She stood quietly behind Starborn as he presented the papers, instincts screaming for her to yank out her lightsaber and run through the midst of the squad before them, sending limbs flying in all directions. Of course part of the reason she was feeling uncomfortable was the absence of her lightsaber. It was the first time she'd ever gone 'on mission' without the weapon stowed somewhere on her person. Instead she had a duffel bag filled with miscellaneous mechanical bits and pieces. Separate they were innocuous enough, but put them together and you could make several bombs that would pack enough whallop to cripple the Empire's operation in Ord Trasi. Starborn was carrying the explosive chewy centers in his holdall, disguised as MRE bars.

She flexed her right hand a bit, keeping her eyes slightly downcast. She'd never done anything like this before. Hitting an Imperial shipyard was something she'd only ever dreamed about previously.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace was all too familiar with the day to day protocol and etiquette, or lack there of, within Imperial life. Tight lip as Dashiel handled the paperwork professionally - she thought the muttering of his incompetent crew was a nice touch - the Director kept her eyes clear of any direct contact. Not because she was afraid of being seen, but a meek female specialist would go unnoticed.

"All right," the Cadet announced after minutes of silence, brooding over the paperwork as if this was the highlight of his day, "Everything's in order. Proceed to your assigned work areas and report in when the work is done. Lunch time is at 1300. Dismissed."

With finality, he held out the documentation.

[Dashiel Starborn]

Dash took the papers and saluted. A cursory inspection was given to the equipment that the team carried, with the 'troopers prodding the barrels of their blaster rifles into the holdalls. One picked out an MRE bar and suppressed a chuckle before tossing the ration bar back into Starborn's bag. They shared a few glances and then nodded, “Everything's in order here.”

With that, they were free to go. The four of them crossed the cavernous hangar bay, resisting the urge to break into a sprint. It was irrational, but Dash kept expecting someone to suddenly shout and have the Stormtroopers open fire. Against his fears, they made it into a corridor that branched off from the hangar. It was the complete opposite to the docking bay, narrow and cramped and with walls that slopped to a point the higher they went.

Fishing inside the holdall, Dash pulled out a set of maps. “Alright... here are our work areas.”

There were two key targets: first,was the droid brain. So much of the facility was automated that by taking out the central neural computer, they could briefly cripple a great deal of the facilities capabilities and defenses. The second target was the shield generator. There was more than one, but they only needed to hit one of the generators to give Rogue Squadron the opening they needed.

“We'll head to the first area,” Dash said, indicating himself and Lilaena. “And you two to the second,” he added, pointing at Grace and Tess. They had all synchronised their wrist-chronos in transit, and made one last check that they were all running on the same time. There was a precise time frame in which everything had to be done, so that the droid brain and the shields were down simultaneously, providing the necessary window of opportunity for Rogue Squadron.

“We meet back here in two hours precisely. Let's go.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Dashiel was young, but good at his job. Lilaena followed him, content to play second nala fruit to his... first... one... Come to think of it, that figure of speech never had made sense.

She skipped a bit to catch up to him, slinging her bag casually over her shoulder. She wondered if small talk was expected, and decided it wasn't. The Dark Jedi kept her senses open for any indication of their cover being blown.

So far, so good. The two Rebels walked further into the shipyard and closer to their target.

[Dashiel Starborn]

At an intersection, they paused to reorientate. The facility was, like so much of the Empire, uniform throughout. Although he had stashed the directions to their target away mentally, his memory wasn't quite as good as his cousin Jane's. He held his map up against a floor plan that was screwed the corridor wall. A young man in a gray uniform stalked by behind them with his head down, all of his focus on the data-card in his hands. He wasn't the first person they'd passed – the facility was heavily staffed – but no one spoke. The sound of boots clicking against durasteel seemed to be the only sound, aside from the occasional crackle of static as Stormtroopers relayed check-in confirmations to one another.

“Swell place,” Dash muttered, as they set off again. The droid-brain computer would take a turbolift ride down to get to. If their schematics were right, the central processor would be surrounded by a cooling mechanism to ensure the computer was able to run non-stop at full capacity without over-heating.

“Hey!” Starborn tried not to freeze, or to flee. He turned calmly and saw a pair of Stormtroopers some fifteen feet behind them. “One of you, come with us. There's been a malfunction in one of the officer's quarters. He wants it fixed, now.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

An officer? Lilaena stepped forward, "I'll take care of it. Meet you at our workstation in a few minutes."

Starborn, to his credit, didn't do much more than blink and agree with her, and then she was walking over to the pair of Stormtroopers. They started walking, boots clanking on the steel deckplating. "Any idea what I should be expecting when I get there, trooper?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The shield generator that was assigned to her and Tess was three levels down and close to one of the maintenance hangars for the TIE fighters. It was a high profile location and the explosion would take out the generator and the hangar next door.

Heads alert and looking through the map, the two of them kept their pace slow and orderly. Tess played with a datapad, pretending to take some sort of readings as they were traveling through the hallways while Grace took lead. Most of the personnel ignored them, not wanting to demean themselves by conversing with techs, female techs no less. They might as well have been ghosts walking the halls. It worked well with the mission.

But then a set of lingering eyes on Tess that the Director did not see as she was focused on the map in front of her. She couldn't have picked out the Sergent's gaze that did a double take at the group. He wasn't in her peripherals, having coming down the intersection at the juncture. Tess kept her eyes forward, towards their destination, seemingly unawares that she may have possibly been recognized.

The Sergent had only a momentary lapse in his stride before shaking off the feelings of deja vu as the the pair arrived at the lift.

"We made it," Tess said quietly and Grace shot her a look as she hit the panel. A thousand apologetic phrases came, but the spy kept her mouth shut.

"Just relax," was all she said, surprisingly in fact, and then entered once the doors opened. There was no warmth in the Director's reply, only a calculating tone to help Tess get through this part of the mission.

Once aboard, the lift doors closed and began its descent to their level.

[Dashiel Starborn]

One of the 'troopers shrugged. “Some kind of fritz with the circuitry in the atmospheric controls.”

Dash watched Lilaena go, the edges of his eyes creasing with a frown as he glanced down at his wrist-chrono. The two hours they had given themselves to complete the mission didn't leave a lot of room for delays, but as always they had to accept that even the best laid plans rarely went off perfectly smoothly – and this plan was far from the best. The Director had pulled the sabotage team together on what felt almost like a whim, but she had chosen operatives who had the skill – and perhaps more importantly, the steel – to get the job done.

Starborn stepped into a turbolift which become to hiss smoothly downwards. He glanced down at his bag and wondered what he was supposed to do if Lilaena didn't make it to their work area.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville followed the Stormtroopers, her head high but careful not to look anyone in the eye. Thankfully the officers quarters were not too far, just a turbolift ride up and another long passage. She sussed out where the environmental controls junction was in the hallway before they stopped in front of a specific door.

A sweaty looking human answered the troopers' knock. "Its hotter than the seven hells in here. If you can fix this..." He trailed off, getting a good look at her. "That will be all, troopers." The armored pair saluted and turned on their heels. "Come in, Ensign." He smiled in a way that Lilaena didn't quite like, and she stepped inside his cabin, the door hissing shut behind her.

[Dashiel Starborn]

“I'd heard they were sending some engineers in from the Core, but I didn't know they'd be so...” The officer hesitated, taking a long and lingering glance over Lilaena. She wasn't the finest looking woman he'd ever seen, but out in the blackness of a space, a man couldn't be too picky. Stars knew that regulation attire rarely brought out the best in the female physique.

Elsewhere... Dash swiped his security card through an access terminal and the door before him slid open with a serpentine hiss. Beyond was a huge, dark room that was lit only by the flickering of the thousands of lights that covered the surface of the droid-brain computer. To Starborn, it felt as if he'd taken the turbolift to the top of Imperial City and was now looking down on the capital, watching street-lamps and traffic signs blinking. Even the hum of the processing units sounded like the distant roar of traffic.

The door slid shut behind him and Dash felt the heat radiating off of the equipment. He fished about in his holdall for a torch. Providing De'Ville got here soon, the best way to make use of his time alone would be able to work out exactly where they would be setting their bomb...

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville smiled tightly at the man, and moved to the climate control panel.

"I already tried that," he said, stepping close to her. "Nothing works. Which is why I sent for you, of course." He was hot and sweaty, wool uniform jacket hanging open. "But maybe..."

He put his hand on her bottom. "You should check -urk!" The officer doubled over, clutching his throat and gagging.

De'Ville shoved him out of the way, her hand stinging a bit from where she'd chopped him in the throat. His trachea had collapsed, and soon enough he did too, jerking about on the floor as she stepped around him. She checked her chrono. There was still enough time to make it down to where she was supposed to be with Starborn.

The Dark Jedi picked up the suffocating officer under his arms and dragged him into the refresher, locking and closing the door behind him. She took a moment to adjust her hair, and then slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and exited the too-hot cabin. The Stormtroopers had moved on, their job done after they had delivered her, which made things a lot simpler.

Lilaena walked briskly to the turbolift and took it down to meet Dashiel.

[Dashiel Starborn]

Knelt amongst various computer terminals, Dash flinched at the sound of the door to the control centre slid open. He held his breath and, leaning forward, peered through the miniature city of whirring tower-blocks. It was De'Ville. He stood and swung his torch down to her feet, lighting the way to the access point he'd been working on.

“That was quick.”

It was difficult to read the expression she wore in the shadows, though being that they were only barely familiar with one another, Dash doubted he could have read Lilaena's mood either way.

“Haven't heard a peep from anyone in here. Not even a mouse droid.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Things were going smoothly. Far too smoothly for the Director's liking. Tess and Grace had navigated the station without any distractions and found the shield generator easily. At five minute intervals, a pair of Stormtroopers patrolled the area but paid little attention of the female technicians working diligently.

Grace's upper torso was hidden inside the opened panel. Small flashlight in mouth, she looked over the schematics on her datapad to the actual wiring and circuitry before her. It was not so simple as attaching the bomb and getting the hell out of here. They needed to fix a looping circuit board that was causing a power surge but they were here to replace several properly working power condensers with the specially custom made ones in the bag Tess was holding.

Tess impatience brought her kneeling besides the Director and whispered against the durasteel frame of the panel. "How much longer?" she said, looking around worried.

Sighing, Grace pulled the flashlight out of her mouth and was curt in her response. "The longer you keep asking, the longer it will take."

Returning the flashlight between her teeth, she went back to work in disconnecting the condensers one by one. Tess' eyes narrowed, and she listened intently to what the Director was doing. She heard a small pop of metal and what she presumed were hands rummaging around loose circuits.

"Give me the first condenser," said the muffled, echoing voice of the Director.

Tess took a deep breath and slipped her hand into the duffel bag while being vigilant of her surroundings. By her mental calculations, the Stormtroopers would be arriving soon but nothing would be out of the ordinary. Nothing would cause any suspicion.

A shift in Tess' demeanor would have alerted the Director that something foul was to occur, but she was still entrenched inside the bowels of the deflector panel to notice the handle of a blaster pistol being pulled out instead ...