Thustra B

The mottled blue-white backdrop of hyperspace stretched into star lines, then resolved to individual pinpricks of light.

“Lock s-foils in attack position,” came the command from the boss.

“Roger that, Black Leader. I feel like I could take on the entire Empire mysel…”

“Cut the chatter, Black Four.” 

Fine. Flying Officer Tomaas Hardeen toggled the appropriate switch, then rolled his X-wing to the right to follow her into the turn. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face completely, even as the four ship contingent, Black Squadron, Aurek flight from the secret Rebel base on Tierfon, accelerated to combat speed.

Hardeen felt lucky to be flying for the Alliance. On this mission he was Squadron Leader Kareene Argent’s wingman. I think she’s falling for me. Something about the way she said “Not a chance” gave him hope. I guess I’m a romantic, he mused.

“Black Two, roll left and fire at will,” Squadron Leader Argent said.

“Copy that, Black Leader. Form on me, Black Three,” came the reply.

Hardeen’s scope was filled with clutter. The asteroids for one. Then there were the supplies. Thousands of tons of military grade transparisteel sheets floating in space, awaiting pick up by Alliance Ordnance and Supply, according to the briefing. This was an out of the way storage rendezvous location. It shouldn’t have been found by the Imps. But there they were. Two Gozanti-class transports and eight TIE fighters.

One of the Gozantis was attached to a crippled light freighter. That must be the Wandering Soul. Those poor guys were locked in a light fight, trying to repel a boarding attempt. Unless Black Squadron had arrived too late, in which case the crew were now Imperial prisoners. Or worse.

The TIEs formed up into two teams of four and streaked toward the approaching rebels. The unattached Gozanti began maneuvering for a defensive stand. The two pairs of X-wings diverged, moving to bracket the stricken freighter.

“Stay close, Black Four,” Argent said calmly. The TIEs were moments from firing range.

“Always,” muttered Hardeen, his thumb hovering over the firing stud.

Green laser blasts erupted from both sets of TIEs, answered immediately by a fusilade of red from the X-wings. Two explosions marked the first crossing, as both Argent and Hardeen got a kill.

Hardeen hauled back on his stick and feathered the throttle, trying to keep Black Leader at his two o’clock. Craning his neck around, he spotted the remaining pair of TIEs just over the dome of his R2 unit.

Squee boo beep blap!

“Yeah, that was close, R2,” Hardeen said, “How are the shields?”

Bleet bleet blat.

“That good, huh?”

“Wandering Soul, this is Black Leader, come in,” Kareene’s voice entoned.

“Blac…..eader…...is…...Soul….ice to see you…..”

“Those Gozanti’s must be jamming us. They probably heard the Soul’s distress call. We’re likely to run out of time real soon here, guys. Let’s get these eyeballs so the Clean Up Crew has clear skies.

A distant explosion lit the viewscreen as Black Three claimed a kill. Hardeen struggled to to keep in formation while Black Leader worked her magic, trying to get a firing angle on their pair of TIEs.

“Watch those guns, Three,” Black Two warned. The Imperial transports opened up with their turbolasers, filling the area with green streaks.

“Torpedo away,” Black Three called. A blossom of red-orange fire lit up against the free Gozanti’s shields.

“Looks like they’re running,” came the call from Black Two, just as Black Leader stitched red lasers through another pair of solar panels. The TIE came apart in a shower of sparks, and Hardeen just avoiding hitting a twirling chunk of wrecked starfighter.

Reeeeeee flat! Boo boo pffft!

“That wasn’t my fault,” Hardeen argued.

The Gozanti attempting to board Wandering Soul appeared to have had enough. It was moving again, trying to get some distance between it and the X-wings.

“Black Squadron! This is Wandering Soul. We’re stranded and we’ve got wounded,” the signal from the damaged freighter now came in crystal clear.

“Understood,” Black Leader replied, “do you have any personnel on that Imp vessel?”

“Negative, Black Squadron; thanks to you!”

“Black Squadron, focus on my Gozanti,” Argent called to the group, “Black Four, let that TIE go.”

The last TIE fighter from their quartet had decided to test his luck out among the asteroids rather than come back around for another pass. Hardeen pushed the stick to the left and rolled into position for a firing run on the Imperial transport. In the distance, Black Two and Three could be seen turning back from their pursuit as well.

“Torpedoes away,” Black Leader called, and four streaks of blue shot toward the slow moving Gozanti. Three small explosions in quick succession were followed by a massive blast of light and debris as the cruiser’s reactor went critical.

Hardeen watched as three TIE fighters from the other group made it back to their Gozanti and docked up, just before the ship made the jump to lightspeed.

In moments, another light freighter dropped out of hyperspace.

“Did we miss the fun?” came a new voice over the commlink.

“Rescue the crew and let’s get moving. This storage site is officially closed,” called Squadron Leader Argent.

New Arrivals, part 1

The Calm Seas glided into the clearing, flared to cut speed, then gently set down.

“Rapid turn around!” the pilot shouted into the comm system while flipping a series of switches.

The whine of the repulsors cut out. With a hiss and a groan the full weight of the old transport craft settled onto its landing gear. The rear loading ramp was already descending to the gravel below as Trooper Recruit Gortanna Mar unbuckled his flight restraints.

A welcome gust of fresh air swept through the cabin. Long spaceflights and tight quarters left something to be desired, as far as he was concerned.

Give me a posting on the ground any day.

Mar had to squeeze past the tied down crates and cargo pallets to join the other new arrivals making their way to the side exit stairs. Three of his fellow passengers were from Starfighter Command: two Tech Recruits and a brand new Flight Cadet. One was from Fleet, a Sub-Lieutenant by the looks of it. Another Trooper Recruit was from Ordnance and Supply. Mar was the sole representative from Sumitra Sector Command.

Mar got to the opening and paused for a moment atop the exit stairs.

Tierfon. A secret fighter base. My new home.

The battered GR-75 transport was sitting in a clearing ringed by pine trees. The sky was blue with just a few light, wispy clouds. A pair of high contrails revealed the X-wing escort that had followed them to the surface. The starfighters were headed up, back out into the inky blackness of space.

Mar took a deep breath. Moderate temp, no humidity to speak of, and nothing but wilderness as far as the eye could see. A smile crossed his face as he took in the view. Down below, a cluster of people awaited the new arrivals, and binary load lifters were already busy with the cargo. Off to one side of the improvised landing field sat more pallets and crates, along with a small handful of mixed personnel, waiting to board once the transport was emptied.

Never a dull day in the Alliance.

“Excuse me, sir, I should like to disembark,” the mechanical tones of a protocol droid interrupted.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Mar mumbled, hoisting his travel bag and heading down the stairs.

Near the base of the stairs a serious looking Rodian female approached, bio-scanner in hand.

“Trooper Recruit Gortanna Mar?” she asked, sweeping the scanner up and down in front of him.

Mar nodded but stood still and quiet, knowing the drill. With an affirmative chirp from the device, her demeanor changed. She stowed the scanner, half smiled and extended her hand.

“Geela Ral, Sector Command. I’m First Trooper for Fire Team Blue 2. You’re with me.” The Rodian turned toward a trail leading away from the clearing. She was halfway into the trees before glancing back, “Oh. And welcome to Tierfon.”

“Thanks,” Mar replied, hustling to catch up. The landing field was ringed by partially concealed emplacements and bunkers. All of the weapons were aimed in the general direction of the newly arrived Rebel transport.

Ral noticed his attention. “Base security is our top priority,” she said.

“Makes sense,” Mar nodded. The Calm Seas had been met in space by an armed escort and a scanner-equipped freighter. The starfighters hadn’t been there to protect the supply ship. Quite the opposite, in fact. The freighter compared the transport’s unique subspace engine signatures to the database and cross-checked the recorded manifest versus detected cargo. Then there were the coded communications transmissions and passcodes. All were routine. Many layers of security provided for a defense in depth, right down to the mandatory bio-scans for all newly arriving sentients. A similar scan confirmed the identities of all new droids.

Two heavy speeder trucks, loaded down with new supplies, eased past the line of personnel moving up the dusty trail. They were headed up slope now, and Mar could see an observation tower peeking out above the trees ahead.

Ral gestured to a pair of armed troopers out in the trees, 10 meters off the trail. They nodded, gestured back, and moved out of sight. “First, we’ll get you to the quartermaster. Then show you to your bunk. Then get you something to eat.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Mar replied. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was before she’d mentioned food.

Fire Team Blue 2

“Blue two-one to base command. The fourth marker is secure, over,” First Trooper Geela Ral whispered into the commlink.

“Roger that, Blue two-one. Proceed to marker five, over,” came the quiet reply. Geela had turned the volume way down. Last time a loud comm had given away their position. Good thing it was just a training exercise.

Just a training exercise. That’s why you failed. The harsh words of Lieutenant Bast rang in her ears. Geela steeled herself and glanced left and right. Focus. Like her, the other members of Fire Team Blue 2 were lying in the underbrush, blaster rifles at the ready. They want this as badly as I do, Geela thought.

Geela secured her commlink and picked up her rifle. Taking a deep breath, the Rodian gave the signal. The four Trooper Recruits under her command rose silently and moved forward, passing on either side of the electronic sensor array. Geela stood and followed them into the trees.

Twenty minutes later the group was nearing the south caves. The slender spire of the south observation tower rose above the forest in the distance. The rocky ridge behind it was home. Suddenly Trooper Recruit Rayne Kappa stopped and dropped to one knee, flashing a hand signal. The rest of the fire team swiftly followed suit, each of them finding suitable cover and scanning their assigned arcs for targets. Geela swelled with pride watching their training kick in. Now we’re getting somewhere, she thought with a smile.

Keeping low, Geela crept up next to Kappa. “What do we have, Rayne?” Geela whispered.

“Movement. Third cave from the left,” Rayne whispered back.

Geela took out her electrobinoculars and scanned the area in question. “Nice catch, Recruit,” Geela whispered. She was genuinely impressed. She couldn’t tell what it was, but something moved out of sight as she swept the specialized field glasses over the cave entrance.

“Maybe we’ll win this time,” Rayne offered.

“Doubtful,” Geela answered him, going for her commlink. “Blue two-one to base command. We have contact near the south caves, sector three-three-two. Requesting support, over.”

These SpecForce guys were tricky, Geela thought. This is probably another trap. Geela swiveled about in place, looking carefully at her surroundings while she waited for a response from command.

“That’s a negative, Blue two-one. You’re on your own. Over.”

“Didn’t hurt to try,” Rayne whispered, grinning.

“If you were going to ambush someone approaching that cave, where would you hide?” Geela asked.

Rayne spent some time studying the terrain. “Behind those rocks, I guess,” he said, pointing to a pile of large stones situated 10 meters from the opening.

“Exactly,” Geela replied with a smile. “Let’s go.”

After a series of hand signals, Fire Team Blue 2 was on the move again, creeping through the trees, angling toward the mound of boulders.

Closing the distance, Geela gestured and the team raised their rifles, ready for anything. Warily, the group moved through the trees, circling the rock pile, hoping to beat the ambushers at their own game.

The far side of the rocks came into view just as they neared the edge of the treeline. Nobody was there.

Clink, clink.

A metallic cylinder landed between Geela and Rayne.

“Boom,” came a voice from above.

In a flurry of motion, three SpecForce soldiers dropped out of the trees, landing softly on the forest floor nearby.

“Nicely done, Troopers. You almost had us,” the nearest SpecForce operator said. “Best we’ve seen thus far.”

Geela couldn’t keep the scowl from her face as she straightened up and slung her rifle. Glancing toward the cave she saw a fourth SpecForce soldier emerge from the dark opening.

“Good catch on the potential ambush,” he said as he trotted over to join his companions.

The two groups stood face-to-face for a moment, some of the newest recruits in the Alliance military on one side and some of the most highly skilled and battle hardened veterans on the other.

“Three-three to Command. Exercise concluded, over,” the lead SpecForce trooper said into his tactical comm unit.

“Roger that, three-three. See you back home.”

**********

Fire Team Blue 2 is a low level infantry squad, part of the group that keeps the Tierfon Base secure. In our Tierfon Troupe Style of play, it can be a nice change of pace to run these characters for an adventure or two.

Here is a link to the PC versions of Fire Team Blue 2.

Report on Operation Polar Strike

To: Brigadier Reese, Sumitra Sector Command
From: Lieutenant Juno Bast, Intelligence
Regarding: Operation Polar Strike


Brigadier Reese:

   Operation Polar Strike commenced yesterday, 1400 hours Tierfon time, as scheduled. The SpecForce team was transported to the target installation near Flax by a co-opted automated resupply vessel.
   Once inside Hangar 3, the team preserved their cover by eliminating a protocol droid en route to a utility crawlspace access point. The SpecForce troopers then gained entry to the crawlspace and maneuvered toward their objectives in Hangar 1, the new home to an entire wing of TIE fighters.
   Right on schedule the team broke their cover and raided the TIE fighter launch control facility, ultimately removing the ability for the TIEs to leave their landing racks. The team also disabled all entry doors into Hangar 1, then began their assault on the Secondary Shielding Reactor complex, located adjacent to the hangar bay.
   Even before the reactor facility was fully secured the team set to work planting their demolition charges on the hypermatter containment structure. The team fought bravely, holding out through a number of Imperial counter-attacks on their position. At least two of the operators were gravely wounded during the battle. Thanks to the quick action and medical expertise of Trooper Leda Sturm, all of the SpecForce raiders were ultimately able to leave the installation under their own power.
   Against mounting opposition, the team continued to hold the Secondary Reactor section until the next phase of the operation began, a starfighter attack coordinated with the arrival of a light freighter extraction vessel.
   The crew of the light freighter flew their craft into the TIE hangar itself, rendezvousing with the SpecForce team just outside the Secondary Shielding Reactor. Under intense enemy fire, the team leapt to onto the hull of the transport as it hovered 10 meters above the hangar floor.
   Soon after exiting the installation the demolition charges exploded, destroying the hangar and its contents. The resultant blast critically damaged the rest of the Imperial base as well.
   All involved in this daring raid should be commended for their bravery and resourcefulness.

Respectfully,
Lieutenant Juno Bast
Alliance Intelligence
Tierfon Base, Sumitra Sector

Imperial Entanglements

“Where, pray tell, is Captain Reendor now?”

Fleet Admiral Cantari Rast didn’t bother to keep the disdain from his voice. There were definite perks to being the highest ranking naval officer in the Sumitra Sector. Rast strode confidently from the turbolift, heading for the bridge view ports. Behind him, dressed in black, came Commander Xemus Drallig of the dreaded Imperial Security Bureau. Crewmen in their recessed work pits cringed as the imposing figures passed on the walkway above.

Commander Terek, officer of the watch and Reendor’s second-in-command, turned from overseeing the navigation team and saluted. “I will fetch him at once, sir,” Terek added smartly, hoping to assuage the older man’s anger.

Terek stepped toward a rear bulkhead and discretely thumbed his comm unit. “Bridge to Captain Reendor, the Admiral requests your presence at once, sir.”

“Very well,” came the groggy reply. “I’m on my way.”

Turning back toward the fore, Terek strode down the command walkway to join the Fleet Admiral and ISB Agent near the transparisteel windows. “The Captain is on his way, sir,” Terek said in his most accommodating and diplomatic tone. Rast did not acknowledge the information. Commander Terek came to a stop beside the flag officer. The trio stood in silence, staring out into space.

Looking down the length of the Indomitable Will always made Commander Terek smile. The distinctive wedge shape of the Victory-class star destroyer’s white hull came to a point some 900 meters in the distance. Beyond that Terek could see two of Indomitable Will’s sister ships, Demolisher and Protector, also in orbit above the blue-green planet of Boordii IV. To his right the imposing bulk of the system’s space station, to which the Indomitable Will was currently docked, filled the view ports. The Sumitra Sector fleet was a formidable weapon. If it could just be brought to bear on those elusive rebel scum, all of their problems would be solved in short order.

“Commander,” Fleet Admiral Rast interrupted Terek’s reverie.

“Yes, sir?”

“What is the state of my ship? How soon can you depart?”

Terek consulted his datapad. “We should finish the re-supply in two point three hours, sir.”

“Where is that blasted Reendor?”

“Here, sir,” came the reply as Captain Jirra Reendor moved to join them, still adjusting his duty cap.

“Ah, Captain. How nice of you to join us. I trust you had a nice rest?” The Fleet Admiral turned on the newcomer, sneering openingly.

A seasoned officer like Reendor knew enough to ignore the barb. He saluted crisply while waiting for Rast to continue.

“Somewhere out there,” the Admiral gestured out the forward view ports, “traitors to the Empire gather and plot against us. Moff Jusik is not amused by your failure to uncover them. I am not amused either.” Rast turned to let his anger encompass Agent Drallig as well.

“We need more time,” the raspy voiced Drallig began.

Fleet Admiral Rast cut him off brusquely. “I am not interested in excuses, Commander, I am interested in results.”

Eyeing up Captain Reendor, the old Admiral continued, “You will personally lead the sweep of the Thustra B Asteroid Belt. I want a full report in 48 hours. And you,” Rast growled, turning toward the frowning Drallig, “will get me more actionable intelligence. That is what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” both men answered in unison.

The Admiral let his caustic gaze linger a moment on the pair of officers before turning to leave. “No excuses,” he reiterated as he crossed the command walkway back to the turbolift.

***

“We shall leave immediately, sir,” Lt. Commander Seena Yolon replied crisply, closing the commlink connection. Dressed in a black naval uniform, Yolon was an Agent of the dreaded ISB, Imperial Security Bureau. She had detected hints of annoyance and fear in the tone of her superior, Commander Drallig. Rebel activity in this sector was increasing, and it was up to the ISB to put an end to it. Swiftly.

She trotted across the cavernous hangar, motioning to Lieutenant Kiel. On cue, Kiel barked out an order and the Imperial Army platoon assigned as Agent Yolon’s escort leapt to their feet. The men had been resting among the tools and spare parts stacked neatly in a maintenance alcove along the edge of the bay.

As Yolon approached the open boarding ramp of her Sentinel-class shuttle, the nine white-clad stormtroopers of her personal security team fell into step beside her. The crew was already aboard the transport, preparing the craft for departure. The repulsor fields whined through their pre-takeoff warmup and she felt the familiar rush of pride and excitement build within her. On the hunt, again.

Yolon made her way toward the bridge, passing through the auxiliary weapons station. “Sir,” the three members of the gunnery crew snapped to attention and saluted as one. She ignored them and entered the cockpit.

“Sentinel shuttle Mindorian to Demolisher flight control,” the co-pilot spoke into the comm, “requesting immediate launch.”

“Roger that, Mindorian, you are cleared for take-off,” came the reply.

A green indicator on the flight console confirmed that the passengers were all aboard and the loading ramp was closed. Agent Yolon strapped herself into the chair near the secondary communications station, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Suspected rebel activity in the Flax system. She would get to the bottom of it. She would make those traitors pay dearly, indeed.

The shuttle rose from the deck and rotated toward the huge, open blast doors. Beyond lay the blackness of space. The pilot eased the throttle forward and the vessel left the hangar behind.

“Plot a course for the Flax system,” Yolon said.

“Yes, sir,” the co-pilot responded.

The shuttle banked, picking up an escort in the form of a pair of TIE fighters. The trio flew down the length of Demolisher, an aging Victory-class star destroyer. Demolisher was small, by modern Imperial standards, but utterly dwarfed the Mindorian and the TIEs. The shuttle cleared the star destroyer’s bulk and turned away from the planet it was orbiting, Boordii IV, home to Sumitra Sector high command. In the distance, off to the right, Agent Yolon could see the imposing shape of Demolisher’s sister ship, Protector. On the other side, farther out, hung the Boordii IV space station. Currently docked for resupply was the sector’s flagship, a third Victory-class vessel entitled Indomitable Will. The powerful trio represented only half of the star destroyers in the Sumitra fleet. Yolon smiled, thinking of the potential destruction such capital ships could unleash. Finding them appropriate targets is the job of ISB, she thought. My job.

The TIEs turned back at the edge of the Military Exclusion Zone, leaving the Mindorian to join the steady stream of civilian vessels of all shapes and sizes heading to and from the planet-side starports. The shuttle vectored toward the flow of outbound ships heading for the popular hyperspace entry points. Frowning, Agent Yolon couldn’t help but feel some of the nearby transports must belong to rebels. Right here, under our very noses.

“Course set in, sir,” the co-pilot said.

“Engage,” Agent Yolon commanded. The stars stretched to long white lines then quickly gave way to the mottled blue and white backdrop of hyperspace. Another mission was officially underway.

At the Ready

Ulla Pirim settled into the cockpit of the X-Wing fighter, fastening the five-point harness for the acceleration chair as he surveyed the control console. All systems seemed to be functioning normally, since no red telltales were illuminated. Satisfied, he pressed the stud that activated his subspace comm.

“Tierfon Base Command,” he declared, “this is Blue Five, activating repulsorlifts.”

“Roger that,” a familiar voice responded. “We're ready for you.”

“Then here we go.” Pushing forward on the throttle, Pirim eased the starfighter out of its stall in the underground fighter base. In his mind's eye he could already see the distinctly-shaped TIE fighters that lurked in space beyond the planet's atmosphere, with the unmistakable wedge of an Imperial star destroyer hanging in the void behind them. Pirim saw himself shooting out of Tierfon Base's hanger, streaking out to meet them, opening up with his four wingtip-mounted lasers and perhaps even the proton torpedoes. It would be a pitched battle, one filled with desperate maneuvers and shots both lucky and unlucky. He didn't know whether or not he would survive it, nor did he expect to do so.

Slowly he steered the X-Wing past the last of the stalls in Tierfon's spacious hangar. Then, after a quick pivot, he let the craft settle back onto its landing gear and then hit the combination of switches that put the starfighter into standby mode.

“Tierfon Base Command,” he announced, “Blue Five is in the ready position.” Satisfied, he ran a loving hand over the ship's controls, and then popped the canopy and exited.

“Roger that,” Command responded. “Thanks, Pirim. Over and out.”

Ulla Pirim
NPC Starfighter Technician (Minion)

Brawn 2 Agility 2 Intellect 2

Cunning 2 Willpower 2 Presence 2

Soak: 2

Wound Threshold: 5

M/R Defense: 0 / 0

Skills [Group Only]: Computers, Mechanics, Piloting (Planetary), Piloting (Space), Ranged (Light).

Talents: None.

Abilities: None.

Equipment: Rebel Alliance uniform, datapad, toolkit, Light blaster pistol (Ranged [Light]; Damage 5; Critical 4; Range [Medium]: Stun setting).

Ulla Pirim is one of the many beings who provide support services for the Rebels operating out of Tierfon Fighter Base. He is primarily tasked with helping to maintain the X-Wing fighters and other vessels stationed here. Although he dreams of being assigned to one of those ships and taking the battle to the Empire, he knows that such jobs are best left to others; instead, he takes pride in knowing that the vessels are ready when needed. Ulla is a bit of a hero worshipper, and loves to hear the stories of starfighter pilots and Irregulars in the base's common room.

Making Tierfon Base Feel Like Home

The character presented above is a good example of how NPCs can be used to create a sense of familiarity in an Age of Rebellion campaign. For example, pilot characters could each have their own technicians who support them, ones who might comment on damage to vessels after a mission or ask to hear tales of derring-do. Similar NPCs could include the crusty quartermaster who assigns equipment and laments about lost gear; the medic who patches up the PCs' wounds; a commanding officer who offers commentary about a mission that went awry; and even rival pilots and members of other teams.