Hoth's Open Orbit

A single ship enters the system, leaving hyperspace not too far from Hoth's orbit. It was a consular corvette, the likes of which had not been seen for a time in the Galaxy. Manufactured in Corellia, it was but one of a famed sturdy line of starcrafts that had served dutyfully the cadre of senators that formed the very heart of the long-lost New Republic. The senatorial ship, well-mantained and nimble, would soon cover the vast expanse of space that separated the frozen planet's orbit from the jump point with its powerful engine array.

Senator Voon remained well within his ship, at his solar, the senatorial quarters that had housed him for years, as he moved from place to place in a galaxy that was increasingly hostile to what he represented and fought for. His beloved Loth-cat comfortably tucked under the desk, Ostrenis read the brief report. There was again Rebel activity in the area. The information had arrived through a power droid purchased by illegal means, now residing and working inside what was once known as Echo Base. Gonk droids were not the smartest of the bunch, but they were reliable, and could be adapted easily to field duty.

"Sir, several readings from planetary scans, including orbital presence of some sort. A space base and several ships of note. Further details already in your console, general"

The cat stretched his bird-like claws, lazy, and its purring rumbled. The Duros sighed, moved the chair and stood, making sure not to step on the pet, and reached the silvery comm.

"Captain, send word and greetings ahead. Identify ourselves. My full name, rank and current office"

He cuts communications and awaited response from whoever was in charge. There had always been several active Rebel cells, of varied success, and Voon believed he had under his command a sizeable one. The scale and impact of this one, settled in nowhere but Hoth, had yet to be fully ascertained. Whispers and short droid-written messages could not replace a first hand contact with such group and its leadership. The Force be trusted, Ostrenis-Massa hoped they would be willing to collaborate and, even, join forces. Theirs was a single struggle. Freedom for the Galaxy. Something that increasingly looked like a mere figment of their collective imagination.

The corvette -named Jan Dodonna- landed with ease at the aforementioned hangar. The ship was well and properly mantained, but the hull had some charred marks where turbolaser had grazed the surface in a time past. The paint job was a bit faded and the New Republic sigil had been repainted into something else. A soft hiss acompanied the cylindrical turbolift that served as the ship's access being lowered to the ground. From it, stepped out a blue-skinned Duros, with bright red eyes and a serious countenance, followed by a pair of guardsmen and an astromech droid. Both guardsmen were clad in the attire of the New Republic troopers, a short blue tunic with a roundel on a shoulder and a helmet, but their equipment also included a white chestplate and several other gadgets; they seemed way more seasoned than a mere senatorial escort. Voon himself wore a jumpsuit, in blue, with a traveling cloack fastened on the shoulder with a radiant phoenix pin, and a belt with a blaster resting on its leathern holster. The droid beeps inquisitively, rotating its dome to inspect the surroundings. The Duros senator and general places a hand, clad on a pilot's glove, over the droid's dome, trying to put the astromech at ease. They had, indeed, found a new Rebel cell, one so brazen or bold to even call themselves New Rebel Alliance; and not so very far from Crait itself. Voon seeks the welcome party eagerly, followed by droid and guardsmen.

The senator's voice was raspy and deep, something shared by many other Duros. He would arch an eyebrow if he had any at the apparent misshap over hos own name.

"I came on my own volition"

He said. Ostrenis had not expected such a man to be leader of a Rebel cell, but he had seen weirder things on his storied lifetime.

"You left breadcrumbs for me to follow; like a Gorocco pursuing a Bogling on the plains it wasn't too hard"

A wry smile.

"No offense intended. Thankfully the Civil War among the First Order dynasts gives us some room to breathe. More than usual"

The droid beeps in unison, agreeing with what was said.

"Both Sabina and Graemon were acquaintances of my late father, if I recall correctly. Have many of the Coalition joined your ranks?"

"I believe my father died while defending their government. He was an admiral"

He said, flatly.

"Many of those I know by word, not by myself. I did not linger for long in the Coalition. Graemon I have indeed met, more that once, but that's it"

Added the senator.

"I did not agree with their pasivity, their formulaic ways, their inaction. I could not stand and watch. I left, took the initiative"

The droid beeped in agreement.

"Are you a Jedi yourself?"

Voon seemed surprised. He believed in the Force: as much as any who could not wield it could. His understanding of it was vague and imprecise, but he had seem what a Jedi could do, with their supernatural skills and prescience.

"No need to answer. Anyone who has fought in this war knows that we are what we make ourselves to be. We survive, we adapt"

The senator confided.

"You have ships, you have a base. I have ships, personnel -for both land and space operations- and a base as well. I believe it could be in our good interests to, at least, collaborate"

The Duros made a sound. Very alien. It was raspy, like a claw on concrete, or peebles in a box. It seemed he was laughing.

"That much I can agree with, general"

Ostrenis extended his hand and grabbed Endor's firmly; however, he did not spit.

Certainly, he had met colorful people, but this was the most unusual Jedi he had ever found.

"May I inquire if you are to remain in orbit? I have heard of massive battles in the core, but there's Imperial activity elsewhere, posibly even in this sector"

Endor shrugged his shoulders and gave a dismissive wave of his right hand. "Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. What are the chance the Imperials are going to come to this frozen ball of..." Interrupted!


In that moment before the General had finished expressing his thought, warning klaxons sounded overhead and red strobe lights started flashing from the ceiling. There was a crackle from Mon Mothma Stations PA system as the buck toothed tynnan Lieutenant Nutterbutter's folksy accent was heard across the entire rebel facility.

ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS! ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! RESURGENT-CLASS STAR DESTROYER DETECTED IN SYSTEM. ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!

If Endor had still been sipping caf he would have spit it all over Voon in that moment, thankfully his mouth was empty so his jaw simply dropped in absolute shock. He brought a hand up hard under his chin and forced it shut, gritting his teeth as a fire was lit in his belly and feral instinct honed in the forests of his homeworld took hold of his better senses. Eyes wide and angry, he looked at Voon, his nostrils flaring as he breathed hot and heavy.

"Emperor Palpatine on a pogo-stick! That was prophetic. Are you a Jedi? Never mind, come on. Get to your ship and get airborne. The station doesn't even have full deflector coverage yet. Anyone onboard will be a sitting duck. We need to buy them some time."

Without so much as another word, Endor raced across the hangar bay to where his modified T-65 X-wing was parked and leapt up into the open cockpit. R6 was already in the midst of the pre-flight warmup by the time the General's butt hit the seat. He slammed his rebel flight helmet down over his head and flipped the toggle, closing the canopy and sealing himself into his snubfighter. "Punch it!" He growled, pulling back on the accelerator to elicit a snarl from the chromium engine block protruding from the fuselage, causing the fighter craft to launch from the deck before its landing gear was even retracted. Endor's sweaty orange flight suit, which was been hanging from the nose of the X-wing, flew across the cockpit window briefly before shaking loose as the snubfighter blasted out of the hangar and entered hard vacuum. He wasn't alone either. Rebel A-wings and the other XJ7s of Endor's Ewoks could be seen taking to the void around him, all headed in the direction of the fleet that had just emerged from hyperspace. The NRA's two MC80 cruisers, the Aura Blossom and the Star Urchin, were already raising shields and turning in the direction of the unknown fleet.

"R-6." Hissed Endor through rattling teeth as his snubfighter continued to pick up speed, forcing him further back into the cracked leather of his seat. "Open a channel to the Mossflower." A moment later and he heard the crackle of the static laced comm-channel being connected. "Drenlin, you awake yet?"

Endor! Came the worried tone of rebel agent Drenlin Votrek, currently seated in the captain's chair of the Nebulon-B frigate 'Mossflower'. What the hell is going on? Who are these guys?

"Who else?" The General replied. "Do you know anyone other than the First Order who uses a Resurgent-class star destroyer? Listen, help the station evacuate. The Mossflower won't be able to do much against firepower of that magnitude, so leave it to Admiral Dackbar and me." But sir, the odds of taking on a... "What's my one rule, Drenlin?!." Never tell you the odds. "Never tell me the odds, that's right. This is what we've been preparing for. Don't worry, I got a few surprises up my sleeve. Endor out." He switched off the comm channel.

Beside his hurtling X-wing pulled up his two usual wingmen, his childhood best friend Cap'n Tarfang and squadron-mate Lance Bassanius. Lance's musically gifted voice could be heard singing over the Ewoks squad channel.


"Sweet Baby Yoda, it's worse than I thought." Replied Endor. "The First Order has developed a sense of style." Strangely, his sensors were picking up a motley collection of ships that comprised the unknown fleet that were distinctly non-Imperial in origin. Mon Calamari, Bothan, and Corellian ships alike. It seemed the civil war they'd been hearing about had hit the First Order worse than expected. Now they were using whatever vessels they could get their filthy fascist mitts on. "Lock S-foils in attack position."


"Or lining up for a broadside volley. Diabolical. These Imperials are so darned evil. Alright, prepare for evasive maneuvers. R6, open a channel to that ugly green slab of steel taking up real-estate ahead. I'm about to give these Galactic Empire simps a piece of my mind."

A moment later and Endor's angry gruff tone could be heard spitting across the comm-frequencies as his tiny X-wing hailed the heavily damaged Redemption.

This is General Endor of the New Rebel Alliance to hostile Imperial fleet. Listen here you Tarkin fanboys! You just tell me which hole you'd prefer I shove my boot into and I'll find a way to make it happen. Already polished it up with the fascist blood of your comrades, you freedom hating Imp-gamorreans! Oh, and welcome to Hoth. We don't validate parking!