Echo Base

*Kronos had learned to observe, and in his observations he saw Master Tuhlute wearing all of his gear. At least all of it was in a position to be easily applied. Kronos followed suit, learning that readiness was important. He put on his clothing as he walked to the galley as commanded. Kronos took a seat and thanked the Artisan for his food. He was about to dig in, but again he observed that Master Tuhlute appeared to be praying. Kronos stopped and waited for the prayer to be completed, being respectful of his beliefs and customs.*

*Despite not feeling hungry, Kronos ate anyways. He always had very little appetite before a mission, but had learned to eat regardless. The anxiety would go away soon, and if things went terribly wrong, he would have rather had that meal than not. Kronos also learned to listen, so he ate in silence as Master Tuhlute explained what they need to do and what his role would be. Kronos nodded to show his understanding and began to mentally locate the items that Master Tuhlute spoke off.*

*As they began to land, Kronos gripped the side of his chair. He never liked the feeling of the ship landing on Terra Firma. The momentary bump always made him cringe inside. He relaxed his grip as soon as the ship landed, and stood, preparing to get everything they needed.*

"No, Master," *Kronos said responding to Master Tuhlute's question, but from his mention of danger from before Kronos wondered if this was something to avoid. "Are the results catastrophic?" *It was something Kronos had never thought to try. He was beginning to think that it was probably a good thing that he hadn't.*

Nekarian is gently surprised when he locates the door mechanism is still operational, as the great doors slowly grind open. Emergency lights spread a soft glow throughout the entrance to the main base. Nekarian enhances his Force presence to search for any disturbances or signs of life within the base. He makes his way into the base , searching his own memories for the path he needs to take to head to the central control room.

Upon entering the structure, Nekarian loosens his robe slightly, so his lightsaber can leap into his hand if needed. He also lets his grip on the Force subside since he no longer feels the need to protect himself from the biting cold of the planet's surface.

Captain Franklin T. Shelby walked briskly down the boarding ramp of the "Freelancer" flanked by a squad of shock troopers, a probe droid, and his chief engineer and adopted daughter Eliza. The wind whipped the snow up into flurries as the shock troopers secured the area. Shelby stood over Eliza as she pryed the casing off the control panel for the base's rear hanger doors.


"How's it look?"

"Gimme a sec to hook up the juice dad, sheesh."

 
Shelby had found Eliza when she was just newborn. She had managed to escape the notice of a band of slavers which had beat Shelby and his crew to what was believed to be a very fat target drifting in open space alongside a hyperspace lane. When Shelby had boarded the crippled transport he found young Eliza stashed in an air duct near what could only have been her birth parents' cabin. Her mother, at least he assumed it was her mother had sacrificed herself in an effort to create a distraction and draw the slavers away from her baby. Shelby hated slavers, one of the few aspects of the underworld he wouldn't deal in. Of course he had taken pity on the orphaned infant, of course he bought her on his ship, of course he raised her as his own. Eliza was the one thing in the world that could melt his otherwise cold heart, the one thing he valued more then himself. That was 19 years ago.

Sparks flew from the control panel as Liza hooked up the mobile power pack and ran a bypass of the locking mechanism. The massive doors unlocked with a heavy clunk, thud, and hiss but remained shut.

"Bring up those winches!" Liza shouted to her engineering crew which had been unloaded gear and equipment since their arrival.  Liza was a damn fine engineer. From an early age she had been fascinated by how things worked the way they did. She would marvel at the inner workings of the "Freelancer" from its mechanics down to its electrical systems. When she 9 years old she took apart, upgraded, and resembled an old astromech droid her father had given her as a birthday present that year. At age 16 she overhauled her first hyperdrive, and just last year she oversaw the upgrades to the "Freelancer's" reactor core. Now she stood back and supervised a team of burly men attaching heavy clamps and cables to the edges of the hanger doors and ready the twin winches to pull the 10,000 pound slabs of metal apart wide enough to squeeze though.


"Ok, fire em up!"

The winches sputtered to life as they pulled the heavy steel cables taut and the doors inched open little by little with the sound of metal grating on metal. After several minutes the doors had been forced open enough for the recon team to fit though and the cables were disconnected. The probe droid went into the breach first, scanning the floor, walls, and ceiling as it hovered and bobbed though passageway after passageway.     

The holocams had been set to cover the scene from every angle. At the background laid the frozen remains of a large ion cannon and the gaping maw of Echo Base, like a mouth with broken teeth. Everyone was wearing thick clothes, to protect themselves from the freezing winds, however, the chosen day was auspicious, no snow or fog to cloud the transmission. Cables snaked from the consular vessel of senator Voon, powering up consoles and equipment, including few heating units. The perimeter was defended by troopers, blasters at the ready in case a wampa dared to come any close to the Resistance crew. At the middle of it all, the tall senator, he was rehearsing the speech with his aide, remembering his old times at the Senate. Soon, the technicians gave green light, the cameras came to life, everyone left the chosen stage and Voon cleared his throat before the recording and broadcasting started, then, he looked up at the camera as it closed up on his face:

"People of the Galaxy, I am a member of the late Galactic Senate. I will no longer remain silent"

He gestures solemnly with both hands, as instructed in the manuals of Chandrilan and Alderaanian rethoric.

"Our Galaxy has again fallen within the thrall of an ignoble authocracy, an Imperial regime which quells the personal freedoms of everyone in this part of the Universe. From the jungles of Kashyyyk to the streets of Anaxes, once again imperial flags have their way, fluttering over our heads with winds of opression. Once again the thundering Imperial March deafens any voice that dares to speak against this absolute power. Worlds, like Naboo, have suffered at the hands of these despots, cruel xenophobic tyrants. Because, how many of you, Biths, Wookies, Ithorians, Mon Calamari, Abednedo, Duros, Bothans and a long etcetera have you seen in their councils, wearing the badges of admirals and Grand Moffs? You, non-human species, are put under the thrall of these biological tyrants, believers of their racial superiority over all of us!"

His left arm arches towards the scenery in the background. The cameras follow, showing the remains of the cannon and the Rebel base.

"Here in Hoth, where Rebel blood was shed, I broadcast to you, the workers, the opressed, the alienated, the poor, the slaves, the discontent! Comrades! All of you who wither under the heel of the new masters! Do not fool yourselves, do not believe what their propaganda says! Again has the Empire shown its foul face, no matter their charade about safety, order and justice! There is no possible justice in a system where an individual cannot decide their fate! Where they cannot chose who rules over them! The Emperor, thinking himself divinely appointed, rules with fake mercy from the Imperial Center again! Worst, he has a dynasty! He intends his rule to live long after he dies, placing all of us under his despotic regime until the stars die out and the world is changed, ruled by men or women whose only claim to absolute power comes from something as random and erratic as birth and blood"

He makes a dramatic pause.

"Comrades! Fighters, nobodies, workers, opressed of the world I say: unite! Take arms, resist! Do not let hope flicker and die in your hearts, harbor it, take care of it, nourish it. Grab that hope and stand, stand for your rights! For your freedom! Fight for it! No longer we will stand in silence as millions are killed, billions opressed, while a few live in miles-high palaces surrounded by luxury! How much did the Emperor spend in his charade of a coronation? How much in the lavish palace? And I ask: how many of you hunger? How many have you lost to sickness unable to pay for a proper treatment? How much could have lived comfortably with the money spent in his massive Super Star Destroyer? Billions, I say, entire systems! This tyrant believes himself to be an enlightened emperor, but he is just a despot, like many before him. And he, undoubtedly, is backed by the rich and the powerful, the ones who hold your leashes and opress your people!"

His red eyes stare at the cams, he clasps both hands.

"Systems where the right of gathering, to protest or even the free press are revoked. Systems where our voices, comrades, are shut off by the weight of Imperial lies and propaganda. You are not safe or secure, people of the Galaxy, you are silenced, you are just a future target for the opressors! How many have to be reeducated or killed in the name of their so-called Order and Justice? I have traveled far and wide since the Senate fell, I've seen how people suffer, how they died in scores, how many worlds have they torched to secure their despotic rule! This cannot be tolerated!"

Voon clenches one of his fists.

"And it will not. The Resistance has begun, risen -like the old Rebel phoenix of yore- from the ashes of the democracy's funeral pyre! This I broadcast to you! Hope has not died and it will not! Unite! Rally! Resist! Seize the weapons, the ships, the means of production! And remember, rebellions are build on hope and we have that in scores and it is something they will never be able to kill, because ideas are more powerful than any destroyer. Here I spoke, on behalf of all of you, to let you know that you are not alone. Not anymore"

The cameras zoom in triumphally to the senator's armband, where a flaming phoenix, old symbol of the Alliance, is emblazoned. The Rebellion's former anthem starts to play out and the broadcast ends.

"Cut! It has been broadcasted on live to the holonet, sir"

The crew cheers and applaud, cheering the senator.

"Alright, let's go, everyone and everything has to be loaded back onto the ship, let's go!"

Everyone hurried. In little time the consular ship crossed the skies back into the pitch blackness of open space...

After his meeting with the Lost Tribe of Abominable Snowoks, Endor found himself in his quarters nursing a particularly nasty hangover. Despite the time he had spent at the Corellian Jedi Academy, he hadn't been able hold his cups against the likes of the snowok chief Grimfang. That white furred chimera seemed a bottomless pit when it came to guzzling down horns of fermented tauntaun milk. After a dozen or so cups, the Jedi had passed out and woke up the next morning beside a very friendly wampa ice beast. Extricating himself from its embrace had been a bit tricky, but after which he had struck up a deal with the leader of the snowoks. In exchange for their military support and aid as scouts, the NRA would provide the local tribe with off-world goods and come to their assistance if they were ever attacked. Additionally they would provide tauntauns that the growing alliance could use to get around the planet. He could hear the animal bleating coming from the hangar outside his room as the animals were being penned up. Fortunately the cold seemed to help stifle their stink.

The other part of their arrangement with the snowoks was to forge a peace agreement with the Skel. That would be a bit tricky, assuming half of what Tarfang had told him about the natives was true. Still, he had to try, didn't he? Besides, he considered himself a far better negotiator than his child hood bestfriend was. That would be his next objective.

Word reached his office a short time later that the shield generator Ion cannon emplacement had been restored. A good start, but far from sufficient. He sent return instructions to the base engineers to begin work on building two more emplacements, then see if they couldn't get some of the smaller cannon emplacements operational again, after they dug them out from under a mountain of snow. He then drew up several more requisition requests and forwarded them to Drenlin's data-pad.

His wingman had already left for Incom yesterday and was hopefully having an easier time than Endor was.

He popped a couple of bacta tablets to help sooth his headache and then began to get ready for the next mission, which included fitting one of the tauntauns they had received with a saddle.

At the entrance to the relatively famous compound known as Echo Base, the massive doors began to split apart as the facility prepared to receive new arrivals. The General's signature T-65 X-wing flew rapidly towards the slowly retracting opening, not appearing to slow despite its increasing proximity to the base. At the last minute he pulled back hard on the throttle and manipulated maneuvering jets as he tried to come to an abrupt stop, spinning a 180 degrees as it passed through the still opening doors, just barely avoiding clipping the edges. R6 extended the landing gear and Endor allowed the astromech to set the snub-fighter down on autopilot. The second its struts touched the floor, the cockpit canopy flipped open and Endor climbed out, perching himself on the nose of his X-wing. He had a victors grin writ across his bearded face as he waited for Vaughan's U-wing to land.

The base itself was bustling with activity. Snowoks, skell, and all manner of humanoid rebel could be seen going about one task or another. Tauntauns bleated from an enclosure where they were penned up, near the now completely open doors of the base. Echo Base hadn't seen this sort of activity since the days of the original Rebel Alliance. It was Endor's hope that this time the headquarters fared better than it had in the past.