Future: Uncertain (Space)

[Ysmir]

---

"They did what?"

Out of the frying pan, into the oven. Never before had a proverb been personified as succinctly -- and as horrifyingly -- as it had today. For the whatever-millionth time in his life, it seemed that as soon as one battle ended, the next came knocking on the door to say hello.

They had won. The Spire had fallen, the Archeri hivemind was erased. Across the galaxy, numerous relief camps had been set up on part of both the Republic and their unlikely allies, the Empire. Those afflicted by the Archeri Crisis would soon find themselves on the mend, if all gathered reports held merit. Without the Archeri hivemind around to influence those under its watchful eye, the fungal virus that worked its way through a sentient's immune system and transformed it over time into little more than a puppet would become capable of being treated through traditional medicine. It all seemed too good to be true, an alliance with their greatest enemy going off without a hitch. But it was never that easy.

"Command just sent out a notice to all active squads. We're to fall in back to Republic space and await further orders," Whatt said to the Commander as he stared out of the port window to the literal void.

Against orders, just after the battle had ended, a Republic cruiser opened fire on their Empire allies. Officially, it was a rogue battle group which led to this "accident". It wouldn't be long until this unprovoked act of aggression experienced a swift and brutal retaliation. Somewhere deep within his soul, Alston had hoped that the Empire would know that this incident in no way reflected the thoughts and feelings of the Republic as a whole. While at the beginning of their joint operations Alston harbored animosity and distrust toward their new allies, this evolved over time into a begrudging and, dare he say it, deep-seeded respect for the conglomerate he once called his greatest enemy. They had proven over the course of the crisis that tragedy truly could unite the Galaxy. Would it stay that way?

"Have Jo plot us a course to Coruscant, then. I need to go make a call," Alston replied, giving Whatt a curt nod and walking off toward the conference room of the shuttle.

"Aye aye," Whatt agreed with the short affirmation. He made his way toward the cockpit.

In the conference section, Alston punched in the network code of the Enduring Flame; while doing so, he cracked a small smile. Despite the circumstances, it had been almost three years since last he'd spoken to his old mentor. Their time together running black operations and demo jobs when he was just a Corporal seemed like a lifetime ago. Even if Alston knew why Horst needed to speak with him, his overwhelming optimism couldn't help but shine through; he was happy just to see the man's face again after all these years.

Stepping into the circle, a bright blue light scanned over Alston's features as he crossed his arms. From light years away, the signal jumped interstellar distances in the blink of an eye as the network linked with that of the Enduring Flame's. Once the call began, Alston tilted his head.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you're not just checking up on an old friend." He smirked.

[Fromikeable]

The Enduring Flame's command deck was somehow now more of a mess than it had been during the battle. Despite the Archeri retreat, officers and operators still ran to and fro with clock-like regularly, messages passing ear to ear, codes hands to hand, orders holo to holo, and least of all, looks face to face. Every voice was terse with stress; the task before them was one few wanted, but fewer wanted to disobey.

Fault could only be found for wanting to shoot at the Imperial navy if a Republic sailor dug a bit. But fault with starting a brand new galactic war was easy and apparent.

Horst, meanwhile, was beginning to lose track of how many calls he'd made in the last few hours alone. Calls to the other generals on the JMOC board. Calls to Republic generals and admirals telling them to spin on a dime and separate themselves from the Imperial war machine. Calls from Republic politicians and Imperial lords alike demanding answers. Calls from both groups when he told them that he was too busy to play twenty questions and hung up.

He didn't have that kind of time right now.

So when the next call signaled that it was ready, Horst sent it out almost without looking, returning to the holo-comm in the middle of the command deck without a thought. As the rendering flickered to life, it took him a second to recognize the face that it produced, doing a double-take at the call log.

"Alston." Sighing lightly, Horst shook his head. "Glad to see you, but we don't have that kind've time right now. Pin me down on leave, I'll buy you a drink." Flashing the man a halfhearted smile, it was clear that Horst was trying to be happy to see him. But current events didn't make it easy to be happy about much of anything right now.

"I'm ordering all non-critical special operations terminated and returned to base. Where are you right now?"

[Ysmir]

It was rare to see a man like Horst in such disarray; rarer, still, for the cause behind it. As the situation unfolded, and as the cause for General Stellar's weary disposition became readily apparent, the smile somewhat faded from Alston's face. Clearly, now was not a time for reminiscing and whimsical musings on their past endeavors. A clear and present issue had unfolded before their very eyes. He dropped his arms by his side.

"Expansion Region, Gamor system. Jo is plotting us a course back home right now," Alston began. "We took the liberty of redirecting some Archeri stragglers back to the JMOC firing line, but once that was done, we turned our efforts to war relief." With a small sigh, he looked down to his feet. "Guess that's the end of that."

Like many others, Alston and the Skyburners wanted nothing more than to send the Archeri out the door with the swiftest of kicks, but sadly, that simply wasn't in the cards for a squad their size. So, leaving the heavy lifting to the fleet itself, they had spent the last day or so providing transport to the sick and wounded back and forth across sectors to the many JMOC refugee camps and medical stations that had been established, though they stuck to Republic space; not out of fear, but out of courtesy. With what had recently transpired, however... well, suffice it to say that Alston was relieved at their decision-making acumen. Nothing was going to be assured, now.

"Horst..." Alston began, addressing the man informally as Horst had done to him. He stepped forward; as he did so, so too did his image that was projected to the General across the expanse of space separating them. "I know that Chancellor Vrieska has contacted the Empress. Do you know what comes next yet? I understand if it's classified, but... you know me. I don't like to play unless I know where all the pieces are. And even if you can't tell me exactly what's on the horizon, just be honest with me..."

He paused a moment, eyes flicking back and forth across the grizzled General's features. "Is this salvageable?"

[Fromikeable]

Horst nodded as Alston provided an update. Gamorr and the western fringes of Hutt Space hadn't been given the same priority that the eastern half had. As with most of the galaxy, most of Hutt Space's population was toward the galactic center. That, combined with the tactics available to the coalition at the time and their main priority of saving Nar Shaddaa (and not allowing the Archeri to gain more than a billion new troops), had ensured that most operations had occurred in the east.

The west had been left to teams like Alston. Independent, highly-trained operatives that could dive that far behind enemy lines without direct support.

Alston's question made Horst pause, looking down at a hand as the words rang in his ears. The question was frank, earnest, and simple, but the answer was anything but.

"It's in the Chancellor's hands now, kid." Sighing, Horst seemed to deflate for a second, a hand reaching back to scratch his neck. "The Imps haven't shot back at us yet, so I've gotta' assume he's handling it." Looking up, he leveled a finger at the holographic soldier before him.

"All I do know's that we've gotta' be ready to do our jobs, just like we've been doin'."

[Ysmir]

Horst's answered didn't exactly settle any of Alston's swimming nerves, but it also made sense; no matter what he knew, no matter what he wanted to say, he was likely barred from doing so. Bureaucracy had its merits but occasionally left Alston feeling more out of the loop than anything, and he hated being out of the loop. Yet, even still, orders were orders, and Jo knew that as well. Alston could feel the ship shift as it made the jump to hyperspace, en route to Coruscant where further instruction would likely be handed out. The waiting would definitely be the worst part, but they had to be more cautious now than ever before. Alston paced in the call as they spoke, his head held at an angle toward the ground while his head spun with questions, solutions, and rationalization all at once.

"It makes no sense," he said with a shake of his head. "Even tactically. Opening fire like that without any sort of established backup. It seems like a fool's errand, a suicide mission. They had to have known that not everybody would be lining up to have their backs. So why would they go charging in with the entire Imperial fleet at their doorstep?" The question Alston asked was rhetorical in nature, but it did seem to posit a very peculiar point. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it made him reflect.

Turning toward Horst, his brows furrowed. "It just seems too convenient, Horst. I can't shake this thought that something isn't right here," Alston said as he let his arms fall by his sides. "Were any of the perpetrators questioned after being detained? Or were they handed right back over to the Empire's hands?"

[Fromikeable]

Horst couldn't hide a scoff at Alston's question. Standing up a bit straighter, a defiant glint in his eye, his voice deepened a little. "Imperial command'll get those traitors over my dead body, mark my words." Horst hadn't spoken to Alder since the incident, and his instructions hadn't expressly declared where the traitors would wind up in the long run. Only that they were due back on Coruscant "yesterday".

But Horst trusted Alder enough to assume that meant they'd be going there to stay. If the Empress didn't like it, they could have a very loud, laserbolt-fueled conversation here. Now. Today.

Hope you know what you're doing, Vrieksa. Horst didn't envy his task. If it had been left to him, the new galactic war would probably be a few hours old by this point.

"Questioning's been delayed until we get them home. I've got every judicial body in the Republic throwin' rocks at my office demanding custody. Not even sure who gets a say; this probably ain't gonna' be your normal court martial." The military was left to police itself with the standard things, sure, but breaking one of the most fragile and important international treaties of the age? Trying to spark a galactic war? That went well beyond the scope of just a few martial lawyers arguing before a judge.

The hell to be paid for today was going to involve every influential person in the Republic, if not the galaxy.

"Listen Alst. Off the record?" Horst folded his arms, sighing heavily.

"Don't get hung up on the tactics. There fuckin' weren't any." Shaking his head, the venom in Horst's voice began to leak through a bit.

"Smarcan and her crew got too bent on being within shooting distance of the Imperial navy. I guarantee you there wasn't a single goddamn thought about the consequences. They figured they could go back in time and erase everything that happened last war with ten minutes worth of shooting." Horst's expression settled into a bit of a snarl.

"Stupid bastards might've just made it all permanent."

[Ysmir]

Horst's answer brought a smirk to Alston's face; the General -- Space, it was weird calling him that now -- was as defiant and steadfast as ever.

The recruits all stood in line, single file, tall, straight-backed, eyes forward, hands clasped by their sides, resolute. Uniform. By the book. It was all routine at this point, part of the system that they had all become so accustom to. But the pride that they could take over the others that didn't stand by them was the spot they had earned here. The Ackley's Maw was as paltry a division as it got, consisting mainly of unruly and dissident soldiers that the Republic had no grounds to discharge, but similarly, no real use for anywhere but here. Alston was sent here by happenstance, and at first he thought it was a death sentence.

But the Captain wasn't so convinced.

When Captain Stellar spoke, you listened. When his orders were given, you followed. He led with a charisma and distinction the likes of which Alston had never heard of beyond stories of his own father. And so, when the time came to fall in line behind a leader you could follow, he did so without hesitation. As he stood in line, side by side with his brothers-in-arms, he fought the urge to smile in triumph as the Captain prepared to lead them on their most prestigious mission yet...

Alston sometimes missed those days. Then, he remembered what had happened to lead them where they were now, and the smirk faded from his face. Reminiscing of a time once known wasn't going to help them now. Their energy needed to be focused on the present, for whatever their energy was worth. Alston was almost fully convinced no amount of negotiation would derail the train that brought a coming storm. One could hope.

"I guess the heart can make you overstep sometimes, even if it's in the right place," Alston said as Horst recapped the thinking of those responsible. From where he stood, their actions were misguided, crazed and foolhardy. But he understood. He could feel where they were coming from. Years prior, the Empire had stripped families apart and left fragile shadows in the middle of worlds that needed support from the Republic badly. And while the Republic was certainly spread thin, some help was better than none. What to do, now?

"Well, regardless, we need to think of the future more than ever," Alston reinforced with a nod of his head. "Even if the Empire's knocking on our door asking for reparations, we have to make sure the relief effort goes on strong. If any remnant forces are allowed to gather, or the power vacuum in Hutt Space left up for grabs, we're gonna have an entirely different problem to deal with. Is there any way we can stay out here and continue assisting?" Alston's request was heartfelt as it got, if a little adventurous. He knew the likely answer, but the good in him required that he ask nonetheless.

[Fromikeable]

Horst couldn’t help but grunt at Alston’s appraisal a little more brusquely than he’d meant to. The heart did indeed fly in the face of duty; most of Horst’s trouble through his career involved passions running a bit too hot. It was too easy a temptation for military work. What were tactics and strategy in the face of an enemy in your sights? What was a command or a directive in the face of doing what you thought was right?

They were structure. Guidelines to make sure you avoided ruining life for the guys beside you to satisfy a personal thirst. The effects of ignoring them entirely, Horst hoped, were apparent to every private and in the Republic military today.

”Officially? No, we’re outta’ Hutt space by next week.” Pulling up a chair, Horst sat, beginning to dig into a datapad, his tone purposefully flat and professional. ”JMOC is being disassembled as we speak, and every cooperative principle in its treaty’s gone. The only statutes still in effect…” He paused, squinting as he read from the datapad, ”... are those relating to territorial gains and guarantees of independence and nonintervention for the Hutts.” Rolling his eyes, Horst deactivated the holopad and sat back.

”Unofficially?” Flinging the holopad onto the console, Horst rubbed his chin. His tone returned to normal as it dropped slightly in volume.

”I need something done yesterday. Off the books though, total black op. Only people aware of it would be the Chiefs of Staff, maybe the Chancellor’s office depending on how liable they want to be.”

Looking Alston dead in the digital eye, Horst’s brow raised. ”It isn’t dirty, but it is completely non-existent. Understand me, Commander?” Horst quietly hoped Alston would trust him enough to accept. The project was already huge, and it was only a few days old. With so much secrecy surrounding it, having a trusted soldier like Alston would help alleviate some of his woes.

[Ysmir]

Alston's face dropped even further as Horst began.

The Commander turned from the holocall, lifting a hand to run through his brunette locks with a troubled exhale. There were many things in life Alston had confronted with certainty and gusto; war, loss, defeat. These things were, often, intangible, but well within his means of dealing with. Of all the situations he dreaded to be handed, however, those that he was powerless to act in were his weakness. To watch his beloved Republic fall from grace in the eyes of so many because of the actions of a few extremists, and then to be left in the cosmic dust to watch it all come crashing down? He almost couldn't believe it -- no, he wouldn't believe it.

Unofficially?

Alston turned. He looked at Horst over his shoulder with clear piqued interest, a glint of that elusive hope in his cerulean blue gaze. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, flirting with the idea of a clandestine operation; the political climate of the galaxy was as fragile as it had ever been, certainly within Alston's lifetime. But the Commander was nothing if not an optimist through his very core, and so he'd jump at whatever chance he could get to at least try and make a difference. So long as he drew breath.

Alston turned around fully once more, taking a few tentative steps toward the digital projection of the General. Their eyes met through the holocall, a stare impeded by countless light years. And yet, even still, one could see the resolve in the Commander's face, a mixture of defiance and determination.

Alston nodded.

"What do we got?"

[Fromikeable]

Horst smiled. He knew that look in Alston’s eye. The one that could move mountains and topple governments. It was the sort of look that flew in the face of decree and authority to do the right thing, that marched through armies into the palaces of the corrupt, and gazed through the abyss at the would-be safely-hidden and malicious.

”Project Vanguard.” Double-checking that the comm room’s security and privacy countermeasures were set, Horst pulled a small holoprojector from his pocket. With a few taps, it pinged the holocomm, and a map file was sent to Alston’s terminal, displaying beside Horst. It displayed a point in Hutt space, which originated a route toward the Deep Core.

”Can't talk about what it is yet. Let’s just say for now that it’s a, uh… science experiment cooked up by the guys down in R&D.” The map file zoomed in on the point, revealing a massive fleet of transport ships and their military escort.

”This is Task Force Gamma. Officially, they’re in charge of dropping off the last of the Republic’s foreign aid to Hutt space.” Folding his arms and tucking the handheld projector under his arm, Horst raised a brow.

”As a matter of fact, they’re grabbing every piece of Archeri crystal they can find before they leave. Salvaging wrecks. Digging up deposits from occupied planets. We even managed to nab the last few trees before they shriveled up.” The map disappeared, a flashing button indicating that the file was Alston’s to keep.

”I need you and your guys to make sure they get as much as they can in the days they’ve got left, Alst. Keep their cover, keep them safe while they work, and get them back into the Deep Core without any issues. Any questions?”

[Ysmir]

Project Vanguard.

Alston's brow rose. It didn't require much military knowledge to ascertain the sensitivity of this information. Even as he spoke, Alston could see through the call that Horst was doing all he could to ensure that this communication was as encrypted as it could be. For the life of him, the Commander couldn't imagine who might be spying, but that didn't matter. Every step taken to prevent disaster was an important one.

As the map came into view next to Horst's image, Alston stepped forth to study it. Hutt space, neutral ground, Alston thought to himself. At the conclusion of the Battle for Nar Shaddaa, the JMOC had declared Hutt space off-limits to all foreign military powers and were systematically preparing for the return of the Grand Hutt in just a few days' time. Of course, all of this had been thrown for one Hell of a loop with the betrayal. Clean-up and damage control had to be performed with greater haste, now that all non-essential operations were ordered back to Republic space. It became rapidly clear just from the map alone exactly why Horst needed to keep this quiet.

"Never fancied myself as much of a scientist," Alston quipped as he crossed his arms, squinting slightly at the fleet that listed through empty space. He assumed that Horst couldn't say exactly why they'd need Archeri collateral, even though the question burned inside of him.

It was perhaps the strangest assignment ever handed to him, and in fact, a tad outside his area of expertise. But adaptability was something of a parlor trick of Alston's, and the trust Horst displayed to even make him privvy to this information, let alone participate directly in the events unfolding before his eyes, was something he couldn't shy away from. As the map zipped away and the console notified him of the file transfer, he turned his eyes upward back to Horst.

"My shuttle's small enough to keep in the shadows. I can relay updates and concerns directly to you on a secure network. Better for everyone if it stays that way," Alston began, archiving the uploaded file with a swipe of his hand, "I just need to know exactly what to expect when I get there. Are we gonna be under surveillance? And if so, how much? What's our operating window?"

[Fromikeable]

”Neither have I.” Horst had done his best to listen along to the proposals when they had come to his desk. He’d nodded along at the eggheads through every presentation, every classified document, every endless sea of numbers. He’d only broken the resolute silence when they’d all looked to him at the end, their faces telling him more than their words. Excitement. Terror. Hesitation. Uncertainty. All of them, the collective brain power of the Galactic Republic’s military, looking to him with wonder if it all was a gamble worth taking.

It had been the single heaviest “do it” he’d ever grumbled.

”Nobody knows you’re coming, and we’re gonna’ keep it that way. You guys need to be clandestine, and if anybody that isn’t the admiral of the group asks why? That’s classified.” Tossing the holopad onto the terminal, Horst sat back in his chair.

”Your operating window’s indefinite. The fleet should be out of Hutt space in two weeks instead of one thanks to some ‘hyperdrive trouble’. Damn freighters are finicky, especially since the Senate won’t approve funding for news ones.” That, of course, was a dead lie. But who was to say any different?

”After that, you follow them to the Deep Core and report in. At that point, I’ll brief you about all the stuff you’re gonna’ see there.” Horst raised a finger. ”Until then, keep the fleet moving and keep it to schedule. Handle any problems the minute they show up. And keep things quiet.” Horst’s eyes narrowed.

”Even if the Hutts and the independents aren’t watching, the Imps definitely are.” Horst’s tone hardened a bit. ”You find any spies, you cut them out on the spot, understood?”

[Ysmir]

Clandestine.

Classified.

They were all words he'd heard before in varying contexts. Usually, missions like this one were handed out by the upper echelon. Technically speaking, Horst fell under that category, but the last time Alston had received an assignment from his old Captain, Horst was just that; a Captain. It all felt conspicuously... off, but not in any alarming way. It was simply further reinforcement of the idea that Alston was undertaking a mission quite unlike any other he had accepted before. But knowing what he knew now, there was simply no way he was gonna back down from this one.

Not even close.

Whispers had been abound throughout Republic space, of course. What comm chatter and idle rumours Alston had heard were of the opinion that another conflict on the horizon wasn't simply a matter of if, but a matter of when. The apparent inevitability of it all seemed to have more than just the chiefs-of-staff on the edge of their seat, and it seemed to the Commander like Project Vanguard was one of several under the radar operations meant to prepare for such an eventuality. He wasn't looking forward to another war when the one they'd all fought together just ended, but he had a job to do. If this was where it was all headed, then he'd rather be prepared than not.

"It's not unheard of for a shuttle to go dead in the water once or twice on return. Especially when resources are finite," Alston said, a reaffirmation of Horst's fib. He reopened the now downloaded file to examine the fleet's route through the system, committing potential ambush locations and other security alarms to memory as best he could. He'd have time to study it even more in-depth later.

Alston nodded to Horst's words as his eyes scanned over the map. "Quiet. Understood. I'll probably have my guys fall in under regular escort detail and operate in the open as part of the attachment's personnel. Hidden in plain sight seems to always work best."

Then, his gaze flicked upward to Horst in the viewscreen. His brows furrowed. Cut them out on the spot. Alston lifted his arms and crossed them over his chest. "That's not standard procedure. Guess the table really isn't taking any chances this time around, are they?"

Alston sighed. He should have seen this coming. Extreme prejudice wasn't a parameter he and his team often operated under, but with an objective like this, it seemed especially necessary. Desperate times, and all that. He closed his eyes and nodded. "On the spot. Understood," he said, opening his eyes to look at Horst once more. "Anything else I should know about?"

[Fromikeable]

”Standard procedure went out the window over Nar Shaddaa.” The cold war up until this point had been a natural continuation of policies implemented during the war. Military preparedness. Counterespionage. Intelligence-gathering. Fortification. All of it had demanded a level of secrecy, or at the very least, a level of security.

But this was a possible tactical advantage. It was quite literally being guarded with peoples’ lives.

”I know you probably don’t like the sound of it, but it’ll make sense when you see what’s going on.” Catching Alston’s eyes as they reopened, Horst locked onto them, his expression frank. Was he thrilled to be playing cloak and dagger? Absolutely not. But there wasn’t a choice at the moment.

”Only other thing to say is that you call me when the fleet gets to its destination. I should already be there, so we can have that chat in person.” Looking down at the holo-terminal, Horst made dead sure it was encrypted before sending along the rest of the information and orders to Alston. The vast majority sported high-level security clearances, unreadable to unauthorized eyes. The only mark that could be seen on any of them were the cover pages denoting their category.

PROJECT VANGUARD

”Only stress that because, uh… well, you’ll see.” Crossing his own arms, Horst nodded.

”Need anything else before I let you go?”

[Ysmir]

"Arrive, debrief, blend in, root out, silence. Think I got the gist of it, sir," Alston stated with an affirmative nod, addressing Horst by his title as if to add emphasis to the statement. His holo blipped a few times as the majority of the rest of the informaion was relayed across space to the terminal. Alston accessed the files and skimmed them over -- the Republic's highest level of security encrypted each and every layer.

"Nothing, except to say all things considered, it's good to talk to you again," Alston continued as he sent the files into storage, looking up from the terminal to meet Horst's eyes, "Wish it could be under different circumstances, as I said, but I guess fate has a funny way of driving us together when needed."

Alston wasn't sure where he stood on the Force and its higher mysteries -- he'd served with Jedi from time to time and knew the basics of their philosophies, but it seemed now, more than ever, a little faith was needed. If the Force was driving him down this path, if his presence was needed, then he'd answer the call. If not for the Republic, then for the Galaxy over.

"Consider this done, sir. I'll have Nico plot a course for the fleet ASAP," Alston reiterated as his hand hovered over the terminal, "be seeing you."

The moment the holocall was ended, a voice rung out from the hallway door.

"Suppose this means we've been reassigned, sir?" Corporal Whatt inquired, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed.

Alston sighed and locked the terminal, turning from the conference table and levelling his eyes at Whatt. "You could say that. We might have just been given our most important mission yet. Grab Rosca and Seeth and bring them to the main hold. We've got some serious briefing to go over."

Whatt stood and nodded, turning from Alston without another word and walking off to carry out the orders. Meanwhile, Alston took one last glance at the table where Horst's image had been projected just seconds earlier. For the briefest of moments, he felt a pang of uncertainty wash over him. It was commonplace in war to question one's place in all of this conflict, especially when the balance of peace and power in the Galaxy hinged on every player's next move. But he clenched his fist. He had made a promise, and he didn't intend on ever going back on a promise. He lifted his finger to his earpiece.

"Nico, plot a course. Set coordinates..." His voice trailed off along with his footsteps as he made haste toward the main hold.

Time to go to work.