Tigh Major sector, 7 year after the Endor
Commander Wrista Utif paced the bridge of the New Republic frigate Akuma. His small task force skirted the edge of the Imperial-controlled, but Republic-leaning Tigh Major sector. Starfighter patrols from X-wing Bolt squadron and B-wing Rancor squadron combed the outer systems of the sector looking for a suitable Imperial target.
The grizzled old commander ran a hand through his beard as he proudly watched the ships of his force. He toggled the small holoprojector on the railing and brought up the miniature status read-outs of his ships. The two Corellian Corvettes that served as supply ships, Red 1 and 2, were cruising off the Akuma's port side. Two more slightly larger military versions of the Corvette, the Dunbar and the Rebel Spirit, drift off the starboard and aft respectively.
The New Republic had been looking to make an example of yet another Moff to stem more support for their cause and to kick up the Empire's defection rate. Moff Chilton seemed a perfect target; he guarded a sector on the edge of Imperial territory, which he was desperately trying to hold as the population leaned towards joining the New Republic. The High Council had ordered Utif to assemble a strike force and take the sector.
His first task, he knew, would have to be to announce his presence by taking or destroying one of the Imperial bases in the sector. First, he had to find one. Intelligence of the area was sketchy, at best, and this had a tendency to make him nervous.
Major Dudras Mhang, commander of the Imperial deep space defense platform HB-416, strode onto the bridge of his base. Confident as always he brushed non-existent dust off his gleaming uniform.
Mhang was the picture of an Imperial military officer: tall, slender, arrogant and proper. His brown hair had flecks of gray scattered throughout it, which he did his best to cover with hair dyes.
He still believed with all his heart that the Empire would win out eventually and send the Rebel's rocketing back to the Outer Rim as fast as their alien engines could take them. Mhang found the Rebel's most disgusting in the fact that they worked alongside aliens. As far as he was concerned, they were betraying mankind itself.
Mhang watched proudly as his command crew worked with the utmost efficiency. The major gazed out the enormous viewpoint of the platform's bridge. He watched tugs and transports going about their duties, transferring workers and supplies from one place to another.
Besides serving as an imposing guard of this area of the Tigh Major sector, his platform was also guarding a storage yard that held captured Rebel freighters up to 250 meters. At the moment, the area had a Rebel Contel-class container transport named the Ulompa, a military corvette named the Twi'lek Pride, a Gallofree medium transport named the Dutyfree, a Damorian bulk freighter named the Sarchet, and also seven light transports, shuttles, and stock light freighters.
He glanced at his chief sensor officer, "Anything out of the ordinary today?"
That lieutenant shook his head, "No sir."
Several seconds later, a light began flashing on the lieutenant's terminal. The man frowned and made several adjustments to the mechanism. The officer paled considerably and turned back to his commander, "Sir, a small group of Rebel starfighters, X-wing class, have entered the area."
The major cursed under his breath, "Put the station on red alert, and get the TIE pilot to there fighters and tell them to stand by."
The starfighter coordinator four terminals down nodded and set to work.
Three X-wings rocketed through space, completely unaware of the platform at the moment.
Captain Rys Dalas keyed his com-link, "Bolt leader to patrol, anything yet?"
Bolt three, a Devaronian flight officer named Fastrot Dibuel, response came immediately, "Long range sensors show a clean slate, chief."
Dalas sighed and they cruised in silence for a few minutes. Then, Dibuel's voice came again, "Lead, I'm picking up something off to our starboard, not sure what it is yet. Give me a minute."
"OK people, let's go in for a closer look," he veered his fighter off to starboard, after a few seconds getting the reading himself.
"Three, two you getting this?"
Flight Officer Gesda Mayn, Bolt two's, voice came immediately. "Nice and clear, chief, don't know what it is either."
Rys studied his sensor readout for a moment, then it clicked in his mind and he smiled, "Mark these coordinates and head back home."
"But we don't even know what it is, yet," Dibuel protested.
"I do, it's a deep space platform, a class three if I'm not mistaken. We just accomplished the first part of our mission, people."
Mhang watched the read-out until the three X-wings entered hyperspace, he smiled as the crew let out a sigh of relief in unison, "Scared off by our very presence, well done everyone, put the station on yellow alert and tell the pilots to stand down." Mhang strode confidently from the bridge.
The news reached Nebulon-B class frigate Akuma a few minutes later. The ships computers put the task force on red alert status automatically.
Utif rushed through the doors of the bridge, "We found one?"
The starfighter coordinator nodded, "Patrol group Bolt Alpha located a platform class three at this location. It has a large number of disabled ships around it. It might be a storage yard or repair facility."
"OK, call in all patrols, send a small taskforce to get more information, let say Bolt one flight and Rancor seven and eight," he paused, "send the Raptor too, it used to be used as a snoop-scoot, didn't it?"
"Yes sir," the lieutenant replied, "and it still has the equipment aboard."
"Good I want them launched in five minutes," Utif turned towards the viewpoint. It was one big game of strategy; one his crew depended on him to win. "Your move, Imps," he whispered to himself.