Whelp. First Fic.

I've seen a few different crossovers on this and other sites over the past couple years, and finally decided to go ahead and do my own.

I'll admit, I'm being kind of ambitious with this little project of mine. The plan is to do a large crossover universe mixing Star Wars with a bunch of other sci-fi franchises and made the decision to write and publish them out of order.

Starting with RWBY for no particular reason. Just been on a RWBY kick when I made the decision to actually sit down and start writing this.

Star Wars is probably my favorite franchise of all time, and RWBY is definitely up there within the Top 10 at least. Star Wars is just such a rich universe full of so many amazing stories and fascinating lore, and RWBY has such lovable characters and visually exciting fight scenes. There have already been a few crossovers between these two, but I just really wanted to add my own to that number.

First chapter will be sort of a "long prologue" to set up the events of the main story. This'll be a few chapters worth (at least three, no more than five), but it's already shaping up to be a pretty long fic.

The story is going to be an AU set during the post-Endor years. Expect characters from SWTOR to be imported to this era, because why not? Will also be an AU for RWBY, but the basics will be mostly the same.

Usual Disclaimer: I own nothing, Star Wars belongs to Disney and LucasFilm, RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth. Anything else belongs to its copyright owner.

Please don't sue me.

Edit 1: Have begun adding quotes to the beginning of each chapter.

Edit 2: Would like to give recognition to a few other fanfic authors who influenced and inspired me: Riggy_Minus, trestwho, WelcomeToEstalia, SwapAUAnon, and XeroKey.

Although the shooting war is over,

we are in the midst of a Cold War

which is getting warmer.

-Bernard Baruch

"Whelp. We're fracked."

Such was the first errant thought of outlaw extraordinaire Nico Okarr as he surveyed the predicament he and his ragtag crew found themselves in. In the many years he'd spent roaming the galaxy, pursuing wealth and fame, and encountering the most colorful of characters along the way, he had felt safe in assuming there was not much left in this crazy universe that could really faze him anymore.

And yet here he was, crew huddled together with their backs to the mostly intact but immobile hulk of his beloved starship, the Redshifter, staring into the thick brush and trees of the forest they'd crash landed in upon arriving on this unknown backwater, glowing eyes drawing closer and dark figures taking shape as the source of their newfound terror emerged from the shadows and dense vegetation.

The creatures superficially resembled Terran animals (at least as far as Okarr could remember from his limited knowledge in xeno-zoology); more specifically, most of them looked like analogues of wolves, while a few were more akin to large bears. All of them had pitch black bodies, heads covered in pearl-white bone-like masks with patterned red streaks, and glowing yellow eyes that glared oppressively at the group of stranded spacers as if the creatures' gazes alone could incinerate their mortal souls. They all also shared similar sharp fangs and claws, and strange spikes and barbs composed of the same or similar material as the bone masks. The largest creatures sported spikes not only larger than those of the others, but which had grown in more elaborate patterns and shapes to further enhance their intimidating visage.

In theory, they should not have been quite as frightened by these creatures as they currently felt. While definitely looking dangerous and physically imposing, they were far from the most dangerous creatures the Redshifter crew had ever encountered. And yet, there was something about them that just seemed… wrong. As if they gave off some sort of strange aura of wrongness that reminded Nico of how the Jedi described what they called a "Dark Nexus." An otherworldly presence that brought with it a cold, foreboding sensation.

And if the very not-force sensitive Nico Okarr could feel that, no wonder the group's resident force user Languss "Gus" Tuno seemed on the verge of a mental breakdown from sheer panic.

"Wha- What the- What in the Nine Corellian Hells are these things!? I-it's like they're made of the Dark Side!" The green-skinned Mon Calamari and ex-Jedi Padawan was quite literally shaking in his boots, his years spent out of touch and out of practice with the Jedi religion having not dulled his senses regarding the omnipresent cosmic energy, known commonly as the Force, in the slightest. His blaster pistol held in front of him with both hands in an unsteady yet vice-like grip, aimed at the encroaching abominations.

"Maybe these are some of those… whatcha ma call em… Sithspawn things we read about." Came the reply from one Corso Riggs, former Mantellan farmboy turned mercenary spacer and notorious weapon enthusiast. The tan-skinned, dreadlock haired young man was unusually nonplussed compared to most of his fellows, taking a ready stance with his trusty vibrosword "Hewie'' in one hand and precious ALT-25 blaster pistol "Torchy'' in the other, his bearing suggesting an over eagerness to engage with these supposed Sithspawn creatures.

"Th-then shouldn't Gus have said 'Seven Sith Hells,' or something like that?" Somewhat nervously piped in a blue skinned twi'lek woman wielding a Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. To what was left of her biological family and her stepsister, she was known as Ce'na; to everyone else, she was Vette, former slave turned pirate turned treasure hunter, now gunslinging for the Red Shifter privateers. Her attempt at injecting some levity into the situation was mired by her growing dread.

"These aren't Sithspawn," Gus retorted, panic still evident in his voice despite losing most of its stutter. "Sithspawn are regular animals that have been mutated by Dark side rituals. These things… I-I can't think of a better way to put it, but it's like they shouldn't even exist; they're giving off some of the strongest dark side vibes I've ever felt, like some kind of living dark side nexus. But there's nothing actually living to generate it, yet it's not death either, it's more like… anti-life!"

"Whatever they are, they sure as hell don't look friendly," said the yellow-skinned mirialan pilot Hylo Visz. The former Hutt contraband runner and longtime Republic sympathizer held a scatter blaster primed and ready.

Nico Okarr nodded to his second-in-command in agreement. Then silently made a mental note to himself to never disregard Hylo's "Invisible Law" instinct ever again.

Second Quintile, Fourth Week of Month Four, Taungsday, 18 Serap, 28 ABY

Two standard weeks before arrival in the Oum System

Republic Center for Military Operations, Coruscant

Approximately 0930 Standard Hours

Corso: "An extraction mission?"

Nico Okarr sat in a dark brown leather upholstered arm chair, one of very few luxuries in an otherwise spartan office, his weapons expert and good friend Corso Riggs sat in an identical chair to his left. Admittedly, the farm boy from Ord Mantel wasn't his first choice for a tag along when discussing business with a government/military sponsor. But the rest of his crew were tied up with running errands across the galactic capital or otherwise preoccupied, and he always preferred having an extra trigger hand with him when dealing with any contact, even if they were trustworthy.

In front of them was a simply designed office desk at which sat one of their sponsors in the Republic Privateer Corps, a red skinned togruta woman with green eyes, and white face paint in a pattern resembling a long vertical oval running from her chin to her forehead, with a large notch at the top and two blank dots at the points where the paint covered her chin and the space between eyes. She wore a slightly modified version of the standard New Republic Army duty uniform, incorporating a brown hood and some matching ceremonial wraps. Her left shoulder bore a decorative light armor pauldron displaying a distinctive blue and white insignia: an image of a sword with a star shaped guard flanked by wing heraldry, inlaid within the the familiar Starbird crest of the New Republic and Rebel Alliance before it.

Sumalee was just one of many members of the newly rebuilt and reformed Jedi Order that opted to officially join the Republic military after completing their trials. Unlike the Order's policy prior to Palpatine's Purge, the New Jedi were not directly or formally tied to the New Republic's defense, and thus did not assume military command roles by default. However, they were nonetheless still close allies of the democratic galactic government, and Jedi regularly worked with the Republic as freelance agents in various fields, including military operations, humanitarian aid, scientific studies, and diplomatic missions. That said (and in further contrast to the pre-Empire Order), any Jedi who achieved knighthood enjoyed broad freedoms in choosing their own path in service to the Force, and if that involved wearing a soldier's fatigues or officers' pips, as was the case with Master Sumalee, then so be it.

"Yes, Mr. Riggs. That's more or less what I just said." The Jedi Master and Major General replied with a slight twinge of annoyance in her voice. Her sour mood had nothing to do with the two hired guns before her, but rather her superiors who had handed her the mission file at the last minute. Especially since the particular superior in question, General Elin Garza, was the one responsible for this mess. "Specifically, we need you to retrieve a team of Mandalorians from within the territories of the First Order."

Sumalee tapped a few buttons on her desk's integrated computer panel, activating a recessed holoprojector in the center of its otherwise flat top surface. Projected between the two privateers and the Jedi/General was a map of the known galaxy with different portions shaded in different colors. Navy blue was the territory of the New Republic, encompassing just over a third of the explored systems. Lime green denoted independent systems and states allied with or supporting the Republic. Yellow indicated Independent neutral systems, neither allied nor hostile. Turquoise collectively covered the member states of the Citadel League. Orange covered hostile but unaligned systems. Dark green what was left of Hutt space. A pale teal the Chiss Ascendency. And a light grey covered the Bastion Protectorate.

And a blood crimson hue along the southwestern edge of the map, hugging the border and fading into the colorless void which represented the unknown regions, marked the known territory of the enigmatic but undoubtedly hostile Imperial Remnant successor state known as the First Order.

Very little was known about the isolationist star nation, beyond what information the First Order itself had voluntarily put out when it formally revealed itself to the rest of the galaxy ten years ago. A coalition of ex-Imperial warlords and surviving renegade military forces that had neither surrendered to the New Republic, nor joined up with Pellaeon's supposedly peaceful Bastion Protectorate. Uniting together to, in their own propagandist's words, "right the wrongs of our recent history, to bring down the anarchistic tyranny of the so-called New Republic, and reunite the galaxy under a new, better, stronger Empire, so that law and order may once again rein supreme!" Initially, they were dismissed by many as little more than broken fanatics, desperately clinging to their lost glory and a "better time" that never was, and were nicknamed "nu-Imps" derisively. However, as the First Order began flexing its metaphorical muscles and projecting its power outward - extraterritorial fleet tours, "police actions" in the neutral zones, and other displays of force that pushed the limits of the Galactic Concordance - it quickly became apparent that what was previously viewed as merely an abnormally vocal holdout may in fact have plenty of bite to back up its bark. A concern only compounded by the mystery surrounding the First Order and the planets under its control; no one outside the First Order knew how powerful they actually were, only that they were far stronger than the handful of systems they publicly listed within their space would indicate, or could theoretically support.

It did not take long for the nu-Imp moniker to lose its humor.

Sumalee: "As part of our alliance with the Mandalorian Dominion, the current Mand'alor, Din Djarin, has allowed the New Republic Defense Force to hire mandalorian warriors to conduct certain missions on our behalf. In this case, General Garza of SpecForce had requested a team of them to assist with an intelligence gathering operation."

As Sumalee explained, the holo-image zoomed in to focus on First Order space. A few star systems within the crimson haze were highlighted, with holotags marking them as mission objectives.

Nico tilted his head in confusion. "Mandos aren't exactly known for being stealthy. Why send them?"

Sumalee: "The mission was being led by the SIS. The Mandos were to act as security, assist with evacuation if their cover was blown, and depending on what they found, conduct immediate sabotage. Considering how effective the nu-Imps' counterintelligence has been in the past, as well as the magnitude of their reprisals, Command thought it would be handy to have some SpecForce equivalents on hand for if things went south, while still maintaining plausible deniability regarding our involvement."

Corso: "If that's the case, then what do you need us for? It sounds like you got your bases covered."

Nico: "Kids' got a point, Sumi. What exactly do you need from us that the Mandos can't already provide?"

Sumalee let out a tired sigh. "Because the original evacuation plan is no longer viable. According to our latest report, all but one of the SIS team have been killed. Apparently an 'anonymous' tip to the nu-Imps exposed their safehouse location and the First Order Security Bureau launched a raid. Now that one agent and the three Mandos are on the run. Furthermore, their ship has been tagged by FOSB, meaning every police unit, military patrol and plainclothes agent in the region is going to be after them. And with how tightly the First Order's navy was already enforcing its travel restrictions and border security, we're not confident they can make it out on their own. The one upside is that our agent managed to secure the SIS team's blackbox before fleeing the safehouse. So months worth of intel hasn't been lost just yet."

Nico leaned forward and scratched his goatee for a moment, processing this info. "I don't know about this one Sumi. It sounds like fresh faces would be better for this op, and I ain't exactly unfamiliar in that part of the galaxy."

Sumalee: "True, but the First Order isn't looking for you specifically right now. And an XS stock freighter will draw much less attention than a D-5 Mantis. A simple repaint, some basic disguises, and some decently forged registration should be enough to get you in and out, so long as you don't make too much 'noise'."

Nico and Corso shared a brief glance, the latter shrugging his shoulders in an "go ahead either way" gesture, before the former turned back to the two-star general to ask the question on both of their minds.

Nico: "How much are we talking here?"

Sumalee: "Four hundred million credits."

" FOUR HUNDRED MILLION!?" Corso shouted as he leapt from his seat in surprise. Even Nico was a bit shocked by this and tensed in his seat as Sumalee continued.

Sumalee: "Before overhead, with one hundred million up front as a nonrefundable down payment." The togruta woman paused to give the two privateers time to regain their composure. She didn't blame them, to say it was a huge jump up from their usual bounties would be an understatement. Four hundred million credits was more than the purchase price of most cruisers.

Sumalee: "And before you ask, there are a couple reasons why the price tag on this assignment is so ludicrously high. First, intel on the First Order is hard enough to come by as is, and while I am not at liberty to share what the infiltration team was gathering at this time, I can say that it's almost important enough that Command was close to writing a blank check for it. Second, among the Mandos sent is an individual of political interest to the current Mandalorian government, and while the Mand'alor probably wouldn't blame us if she didn't make it back in one piece, it would not look good if we didn't do everything we could to rescue her at all. Not that we don't want them all rescued of course, but with everything we've had to juggle the past few years, neither Command nor the Senate can afford to throw credits and manpower at every single situation that doesn't present an immediate, high priority threat to the Republic's interests."

Nico Okarr took a moment to think over the offer he'd been presented. On the one hand, his track record with the radicalized Imperial successor was far from amiable - he was proud to be one of few willing to runs guns to anti-First Order resistance groups in the nominally Neutral Zone - and while the Redshifter's class, the XS stock light freighter, was a fairly common design among independent spacers, the aftermarket modifications he and Hylo had made to it over the years could make it stand out like a rabid rancor in a kiddie playground.

One the other hand, four. Hundred. Million. Credits.

Nico: "So, what's the plan? Are we going in or meeting them at the border?"

Sumalee: "Going in. We don't know exactly where they're hiding out right now, but we've narrowed it down to these twelve planets."

Sumalee tapped a couple more keys and the display of First Order space was altered from showing non-sensitive SIS mission data to highlighting a dozen systems with specific planets labeled. Glowing yellow lines zigzagged between them.

Sumalee: "We've taken the liberty of mapping out a pre planned travel route that should allow you to check every planet quickly without drawing too much attention from the nu-Imps. Once you're in orbit, transmit the hailing codes on this data card."

The Jedi general pulled a small plastic encased computer chip from under her desk's surface and handed it to the privateer captain, who eyed it for a moment before pocketing the card.

Sumalee: "The software is designed to self terminate from your ship's computer when the card is physically removed. In the event of potential capture, you are advised to destroy the card to keep it out of enemy hands; better our agents stay hidden for the time being than be lured into a trap by hijacked codes. If the targets are successfully extracted, then you should also destroy the card afterwards; we can't risk the nu-Imps cracking our secure comm ciphers and the card itself will be useless at that point anyway.

"Transmit the codes on a general frequency - they'll seem like normal comm chatter, but our agent will be able to decipher the message and respond back. From there, you'll be provided with coordinates for the rendezvous point."

Nico: "Then we just load up and hightail it, right?"

Sumalee: "Actually, there is one more detail."

Sumalee tapped another key to disperse the star map and in its place was now an holo-image of a large metal crate.

Sumalee: "Command wants to take as few risks as possible, so once the agent and Mandos are in your care, they will be transported inside these stasis pods. They're designed to resemble normal cargo crates, with a hidden compartment to house the occupants. If a customs agent were to check them, they'd only find some refrigerated perishables."

Corso: "Damn Sumi. These SIS guys don't do anything half assed, do they?

Sumalee: "Only if you don't count their tardiness updating us on interdepartmental operations. We only just received this report three days ago and have been scrambling to prepare. And Garza's occasional habit of… last minute delegating her own duties to the lower star generals and commanders in her division whenever her operations go south hasn't helped the matter."

Nico: "So Garza screwed up and is passing the buck to you, and you're passing the buck to us."

"More or less," Sumalee answered frankly, "But with how volatile relations between the First Order and the rest of the galaxy have been, it would be unwise to have official Republic personnel carry out this mission directly. The nu-Imps have been looking for any excuse to declare war, and the last thing anyone needs is to hand them a casus belli against us. Hence, where you come in."

Nico smirked and stood as he clapped his hands together. "Well , it seems we have it all figured out then. Just let us go over this with the crew and we'll be ready to ship out in… when exactly?"

"Tomorrow," Sumalee replied, casually.

"Great," Nico said as he began to pace behind his chair, going over the mission parameters in his head. "Now we just need a couple days to stock up on supplies, settle up any business we got going here, and we'll be ready to set sai-" He stopped, realization kicking in. "Wait, WHAT!?"

Sumalee: "As I said, Garza has a habit of delegating at the last minute. This only got to my desk last night as I was packing up to go home. I can only thank the Force you guys happened to still be planetside when I called."

Corso: "You know, I never really met Garza myself before, but the way you describe her makes her sound kinda lazy."

Sumalee: "Ironically, it's the opposite. She's a workaholic and tends to personally take on more assignments at once than anyone else could conceivably handle on their own. So she doesn't always have time to deal with damage control of her ops herself. Also - and you didn't hear this from me - she's a career obsessed control freak who never takes responsibility when the operations she's overseeing fail or fall apart. She'll either try to cover them up, or pass it off to a lower tier commander and make it their problem. Hence, why we're here."

Sumalee stood up from her desk and walked in front of it, before leaning against it facing the two privateers. "One upside for you is that Garza's also in the habit of throwing money at her problems like our budget is a bottomless pit. And because you guys are particularly good at getting in and out of places you're not welcome - and because I happen to like you guys in particular - you're the lucky soon to be recipients of a four hundred million credit bounty. Now assuming you're still up for it, we have all the supplies and equipment you'll need ready to load up at any time. Just give me the word."

Nico and Corso looked at each other briefly. They knew each other well enough that they already knew each other's answers, and they were confident that the rest of their crew would say the same.

Nico: "We're on it."

And, that's it for the first Chapter. Sorry for the lack of action, this was mostly just to set up the situation. Next chapter will at least have a space battle, don't worry.