The Defiant Core: certainly an odd place. The bothan mused, his gray-flecked fur rippling. To reconstruct an old ship inside a natural formation is certainly a less expensive, and perhaps less conspicuous, way to build a base of operations. Haran grinned. He liked inconspicuous things. He stood at ease, metal hand gripped in the one of flesh and bone. The veteran spy stared at the shaft of sunlight coming down through the gap in the rocky formation and breathed the air that was heavy with machine oil and the faint odor of ozone coming from the nearby repair bays. Booted feet echoed off the permacrete behind him, alerting him that the General’s page had come to summon him. “Well, time to get the team back together,” he said, an amused smile spreading across his face.
Romar Kek struck Haran as the sort of man who would be better off with the Imperials. Granted, the cell-based resistance was a key to Alliance success so far; insulating it from foreigners was the correct move, but so too was cooperation. The crew of the White Wolf was used to going it alone though, so even the grudgingly minor assistance the General granted was preferable to nothing. Ion grenades would certainly come in handy if the intel about The Hold was true. It’d been a long time since he’d had to tussle with a sizable droid force, but even armor plating would crumple under his precision strikes. In the years since joining the Alliance, Haran had claimed mastery in the K’tara and Tae-Jitsu martial art forms and had even trained with Teräs Käsi warriors for a time. The servos in his mechanical arm whirred in anticipation.
Artus, a crack pilot as ever, guided them right through the web of probe droids while Haran pumped out a distortion field through the Wolf’s sensors. “Whoops,” chuckled the bothan, as he realized his over estimation of the droids’ capacitor relays. “Put a little too much juice into that one.” The other droids would eventually notice that the web had been compromised, but for their immediate purposes, it was good enough. The perimeter guards of the ‘dangerous’ prison also proved little detriment to the decorated team. As exfiltrations go, this one was running pretty smoothly. . .
Until it wasn’t. Apparently those in the command center had gotten wind of their activities and internal security was now working hard against the Rebels. Slowly the crew scaled the main spire: first up the empty turbolift shaft, then through the ventilation system, and ultimately on the building’s exterior. The arc-lightning of the turbolift defense system had been avoided easily enough, but clinging for dear life on the outer wall of tower is when things got interesting.
Haran’s sharp ears heard the repulsor’s spinning up from the structure’s peak and to his, not quite concealed, dismay, a thickly armored flying battlesuit descended to greet them. This was quite possibly the least advantageous situation he’d ever been in, perhaps with the exception of the fight with a certain warrior who’d been armed with a crimson lightsaber. The building shook under the repeated shockwaves and cannon fire put out by the rancor-sized shocktrooper. But the stalwart group of friends replied in kind as Tin Can’s heavy rifle repeatedly struck the carapace and the mind boggling strength of the Jedi’s power smashed it against the spire. The old clone nearly bit the dust when he was knocked off the wall, but was buoyed up on a pillow of Force energy!
Suffice it to say, they drove that thing off and scrambled nearly to the pinnacle before cutting their way back in. Always trying the least obtrusive means first, Haran wanted to get the lay of the land before they went about securing the control room; but one should never send a human to do a bothan’s job. Droids poured out in packs and the fight for the spire was renewed with ferocity. . .