Categories > Movies > Star Wars > Star Wars: Cylon Awakening
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Coruscant
Imperial Palace
Palpatine wasn't happy.
And when he wasn't happy, people died. More than often the bodies were handled rathered discreetly. Usually it had to do with someone high up enough to warrant notice, displeasing him for some odd reason or another. Perhaps an Admiral had quelled a local uprising too gently? A star system had drawn cartoons of him and decided it was good fun to mock him? That usually ended in disaster as many stopped doing that after a small planet was slagged just for that. But no one dared to blame it on the him.
The Emperor had to retain appearances after all. And rebels existed to further his will, willingly or not.
But this time, it had nothing to do with his Empire, or so he believed.
It was a thrice damned migraine that no amount of aspirin can cure. So he sat there, in his thrown room, head in his hands as he resisted the urge to groan out loud. Nearby his favorite Hand stood, stiocally waiting for him to acknowledge her. He did so such thing.
The headache was Force-Induced, he was sure of it. He could see some discomfort from his Hand, though it was likely that it was nothing compared to his.
The headache subsided slightly. Feeling he could listen to his Hand's report without feeling sharp aches, he removed his hand from his temple, "Rise, Mara, give me your report."
"Lord Vader managed to find out the location of a major rebel base, he and his fleet headed there and arrived within the hour. His bumbling alerted the rebels to the fleet's presence," said the redhead smoothly, "A shield generator was protecting the base from a Base Delta Zero strike, so an invading force of the new AT-ATs and numerous ground troops attacked the base. At first, the plan was going well. Numerous rebels were killed outright, their defenses too weak to push the troops back. Until they came."
"They, Mara? Who came?"
"Numerous droid fighters appeared out of nowhere, wielding heavy slugthrowers and light concussion missiles. A literal droid army ambushed the stormtroopers and their support walkers. Ships sprang out from beneath the ice to aid in the support of the rebels," murmured Mara Jade as she averted her eyes, "The battle was a success, technically. Many rebels were killed, their heavy manufacturing equipment gone. But we lost nearly eighty percent of our fighting force. But when Vader's fleet closed in on them, these ships simply...vanished."
"Vanished? Simply just like that? A flash of light, a sycophancy of voices echoing infinitely everywhere. Yes...I have...foreseen something like that," murmured Palpatine, his eyes turning into slits, "It appears that we have yet a new enemy. One voice, one you must have heard. One completely different from the others. He was the one."
"..." Mara said nothing, not trusting herself to speak.
"Come, my child." Withered hands beckoned her closer. She walked bravely to the throne where Palpatine stood, "It is time I speak with Lord Vader...about a certain Skywalker child..."
Despite the headache, a wide smile appeared on his face, plans forming in his mind, a perverse glee drumming in his evil black heart.
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Rebel Rendezvous Point
Coordinates 2.2447 by 3.926 by 673.54. A few lightyears above the galactic plane and well beyond the galaxy's gravity well. For most ships, it was perilous trip. More than a few ships were probably lost along the way to journey to those coordinates. The Redemption, s modified Nebulon-B Escort Frigate turned hospital ship was surrounded by dozens of transport ships. Next to her, larger than even an Imperial Star Destroyer was Home One, a massive mon calamarian starship, the flagship of the Rebel Alliance and commanded by the venerable Admiral Ackbar.
Dozens of fighters were still flooding in by ones and twos. Occasionally a small freighter or a corvette may join the growing fleet of battered ships.
“Where is the Admiral?”
Heads turned as a gruff bothan entered the bridge of Home One, his head tall and fur smooth. Admiral Ackbar looked up from a hologram of a Star Destroyer, Mon Mothma next to him. Mon greeted the Bothan warmly, “Borsk, it is good to see you again. What brings you here?”
“These,” said Fey'lya stiffly as he slid several datachips onto the surface of the holotable, “Reports of some previously unknown race that miraculously appeared just in time to help out on Hoth.”
Ackbar gazed at a datapad quietly before pursing his magnificent lips. The star destroyer disappeared, only to be replaced with a hologram of the last minutes of the battle on Hoth a pilot managed to capture. It showed three ships rising out of the snow, two of them sporting a pair of discs held together in the center with a single thick pylon. One ship had double 'Y'-shaped arms slowly rotating to bare to the opposite of each other. There did not seem to be any use of blasters or laser cannons with these ships. Numerous fighter craft swarmed about. Echo base was in ruins, it was being picked apart by precision turbolaser fire from the Star Destroyers in orbit above the ice planet.
The hologram flickered and changed to a different image. This one showed stormtroopers falling back as streams of bullets from a slugthrower pushed them back. Several slow moving figures entered the screen, firing away with reckless abandon. It was a bulky droid, with a single ever roving red dot glowing in the white backgrounds. A stormtrooper's arm was torn from the elbow down as a burst of gunfire ripped the joint apart. Overhead, a TIE Fighter crashed to the ground, it's exterior riddled with holes.
An AT-ST clunked it's way into the scene before it fizzled out into static. The hologram reverted to it's normal desktop theme, a rotating map of the galaxy.
“Most fortunate,” croaked Ackbar faintly, “I believe Skywalker was the one to have made a deal with these people?”
“Yes, these Cylons.” The bothan spymaster spat the word out as though it were a vile Taboo to say the word, “Were very convient weren't they? Just happened to be on Hoth and ready to help us at a moment's notice? I wonder what kind of deal Skywalker had to make to get a primitive race to risk destruction to help us.”
“Exchange for technology, typically,” said Mon Mothma, “Which is not an unreasonable request. If we can get them to join us, they could be quite an asset to the Rebellion.”
“Indeed,” concurred Fey'lya relunctantly, “Where is Skywalker anyway? Most of the forces managed to escape the battle, he should be here soon.”
“Sir,” spoke up an officer manning the hypercomms, “We've got multiple ships on long range sensors. No hyperspace readings, they just popped out of nowhere.”
“Put it on the holovid,” ordered the Mon Calamari.
The galaxy rippled and converted itself into a dozen craft, easily recognizable from the videos they had just watched not just a few minutes ago. Sensors showed numerous fighters, obviously some kind of droid craft, swarming in formation. The Millennium Falcon had detached itself from a large wing-like craft, likely a combat shuttle. There were several Disc-Type ships, about a kilometer in diameter. Another pair of ships, looking very much like space-faring starfish floated sluggishly towards the group of rebels.
“Speak of the devil,” murmured Borsk as he narrowed his eyes, “Skywalkers brought his friends too...how nice.”
Coruscant
Imperial Palace
Palpatine wasn't happy.
And when he wasn't happy, people died. More than often the bodies were handled rathered discreetly. Usually it had to do with someone high up enough to warrant notice, displeasing him for some odd reason or another. Perhaps an Admiral had quelled a local uprising too gently? A star system had drawn cartoons of him and decided it was good fun to mock him? That usually ended in disaster as many stopped doing that after a small planet was slagged just for that. But no one dared to blame it on the him.
The Emperor had to retain appearances after all. And rebels existed to further his will, willingly or not.
But this time, it had nothing to do with his Empire, or so he believed.
It was a thrice damned migraine that no amount of aspirin can cure. So he sat there, in his thrown room, head in his hands as he resisted the urge to groan out loud. Nearby his favorite Hand stood, stiocally waiting for him to acknowledge her. He did so such thing.
The headache was Force-Induced, he was sure of it. He could see some discomfort from his Hand, though it was likely that it was nothing compared to his.
The headache subsided slightly. Feeling he could listen to his Hand's report without feeling sharp aches, he removed his hand from his temple, "Rise, Mara, give me your report."
"Lord Vader managed to find out the location of a major rebel base, he and his fleet headed there and arrived within the hour. His bumbling alerted the rebels to the fleet's presence," said the redhead smoothly, "A shield generator was protecting the base from a Base Delta Zero strike, so an invading force of the new AT-ATs and numerous ground troops attacked the base. At first, the plan was going well. Numerous rebels were killed outright, their defenses too weak to push the troops back. Until they came."
"They, Mara? Who came?"
"Numerous droid fighters appeared out of nowhere, wielding heavy slugthrowers and light concussion missiles. A literal droid army ambushed the stormtroopers and their support walkers. Ships sprang out from beneath the ice to aid in the support of the rebels," murmured Mara Jade as she averted her eyes, "The battle was a success, technically. Many rebels were killed, their heavy manufacturing equipment gone. But we lost nearly eighty percent of our fighting force. But when Vader's fleet closed in on them, these ships simply...vanished."
"Vanished? Simply just like that? A flash of light, a sycophancy of voices echoing infinitely everywhere. Yes...I have...foreseen something like that," murmured Palpatine, his eyes turning into slits, "It appears that we have yet a new enemy. One voice, one you must have heard. One completely different from the others. He was the one."
"..." Mara said nothing, not trusting herself to speak.
"Come, my child." Withered hands beckoned her closer. She walked bravely to the throne where Palpatine stood, "It is time I speak with Lord Vader...about a certain Skywalker child..."
Despite the headache, a wide smile appeared on his face, plans forming in his mind, a perverse glee drumming in his evil black heart.
-
Rebel Rendezvous Point
Coordinates 2.2447 by 3.926 by 673.54. A few lightyears above the galactic plane and well beyond the galaxy's gravity well. For most ships, it was perilous trip. More than a few ships were probably lost along the way to journey to those coordinates. The Redemption, s modified Nebulon-B Escort Frigate turned hospital ship was surrounded by dozens of transport ships. Next to her, larger than even an Imperial Star Destroyer was Home One, a massive mon calamarian starship, the flagship of the Rebel Alliance and commanded by the venerable Admiral Ackbar.
Dozens of fighters were still flooding in by ones and twos. Occasionally a small freighter or a corvette may join the growing fleet of battered ships.
“Where is the Admiral?”
Heads turned as a gruff bothan entered the bridge of Home One, his head tall and fur smooth. Admiral Ackbar looked up from a hologram of a Star Destroyer, Mon Mothma next to him. Mon greeted the Bothan warmly, “Borsk, it is good to see you again. What brings you here?”
“These,” said Fey'lya stiffly as he slid several datachips onto the surface of the holotable, “Reports of some previously unknown race that miraculously appeared just in time to help out on Hoth.”
Ackbar gazed at a datapad quietly before pursing his magnificent lips. The star destroyer disappeared, only to be replaced with a hologram of the last minutes of the battle on Hoth a pilot managed to capture. It showed three ships rising out of the snow, two of them sporting a pair of discs held together in the center with a single thick pylon. One ship had double 'Y'-shaped arms slowly rotating to bare to the opposite of each other. There did not seem to be any use of blasters or laser cannons with these ships. Numerous fighter craft swarmed about. Echo base was in ruins, it was being picked apart by precision turbolaser fire from the Star Destroyers in orbit above the ice planet.
The hologram flickered and changed to a different image. This one showed stormtroopers falling back as streams of bullets from a slugthrower pushed them back. Several slow moving figures entered the screen, firing away with reckless abandon. It was a bulky droid, with a single ever roving red dot glowing in the white backgrounds. A stormtrooper's arm was torn from the elbow down as a burst of gunfire ripped the joint apart. Overhead, a TIE Fighter crashed to the ground, it's exterior riddled with holes.
An AT-ST clunked it's way into the scene before it fizzled out into static. The hologram reverted to it's normal desktop theme, a rotating map of the galaxy.
“Most fortunate,” croaked Ackbar faintly, “I believe Skywalker was the one to have made a deal with these people?”
“Yes, these Cylons.” The bothan spymaster spat the word out as though it were a vile Taboo to say the word, “Were very convient weren't they? Just happened to be on Hoth and ready to help us at a moment's notice? I wonder what kind of deal Skywalker had to make to get a primitive race to risk destruction to help us.”
“Exchange for technology, typically,” said Mon Mothma, “Which is not an unreasonable request. If we can get them to join us, they could be quite an asset to the Rebellion.”
“Indeed,” concurred Fey'lya relunctantly, “Where is Skywalker anyway? Most of the forces managed to escape the battle, he should be here soon.”
“Sir,” spoke up an officer manning the hypercomms, “We've got multiple ships on long range sensors. No hyperspace readings, they just popped out of nowhere.”
“Put it on the holovid,” ordered the Mon Calamari.
The galaxy rippled and converted itself into a dozen craft, easily recognizable from the videos they had just watched not just a few minutes ago. Sensors showed numerous fighters, obviously some kind of droid craft, swarming in formation. The Millennium Falcon had detached itself from a large wing-like craft, likely a combat shuttle. There were several Disc-Type ships, about a kilometer in diameter. Another pair of ships, looking very much like space-faring starfish floated sluggishly towards the group of rebels.
“Speak of the devil,” murmured Borsk as he narrowed his eyes, “Skywalkers brought his friends too...how nice.”
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