Competition: [Ascending Convergence: Phase II] Fiction: The Enemy You Didn’t See

Kalen's Unending Curse

As Kalen and Corra and the gang hard docked with the Corra VI in orbit above Aliso, the situation on the surface and around the system itself was still tense, and the size scale and scope of the attack they were under Ingram was still developing moment by moment. Terrorist attacks, sabotage, riots, a space ambush, things were bad. 

The ship had been left in orbit on autopilot, with only 2 Ugnaughts (a gunner, and their mechanic) and a few maintenance droids aboard.The Jedi led the group out of the commuter shuttle and through the airlock, he told Corra and D-3PO that they could set themselves up in the Captain cabin, and told the Ugnaughts that they could set themselves up in the lounge and the lower deck. The Ascendant Outreach Corps commander then hurriedly to the bridge and started to get the ship ready to leave orbit. It had been a few months, so he had to quickly refamiliarize himself with the controls, but it was still HIS ship after all.

He heard the sound of 2 sets of rapid scurrying boots approaching the open entryway at the rear of the bridge, and he turned to see 2 of the original crop of Ugnaught contractors he had hired to help man his precious ship, the Corra V.

“Mikdill, Mikbeel, good, the systems under attack, we gotta get the ship ready to move, and quickly. Get the fire control unit and the weapons online. Mikbeel, spool up the engines. I'm going to take us to rendezvous with the Bright Light, see if we can help out in any way.” The 41 year old greying(in more ways then 1) Jedi

The two Ugnaughts nodded in acknowledgement and then scurried away to get about making the ship ready to fly, and if necessary, fight.

“Alright, airlock seated, main power online, back-up power…online, thank you Mikbeel. Deflectors on standby, comms are good, life support in the green. Okay lets get us moving.” Kalen was flicking switched and turning nobs before he grabbed a hold of the yoke.

“Corra VI, to Aliso orbital control, requesting departure clearance, this a priority 1 situation, by order of the Ascendant Navy.” He said into the comms. He was straining credulity a bit, but after all, he was a part of the Ascendant Military hierarchy and knew no one would bat an eyepash at the request.

“Corra VI, you are cleared for departure. Keep your eyes and ears open, its getting hectic all over the system.” Came the reply.

“Confirmed Aliso Control. Corra VI departing for the outer system.” Kalen swung the ship around and increased power to the engines, and within a few seconds they had broken orbit, and were on their way to Trecurus and the Hellas Fleet Yards that were reportedly in a shambolic state since the recent attack.

Not more then 30 seconds later, as Kalen was about to let the autopilot take over for the short half hour sublight cruise when a bright flash of light and a tremendous explosion erupted right against the side of the Corra VIs starboard fore-wing, knocking out power on the vessel, destroying the dual laser cannon that had been mounted on the wing, and blowing a 2 meter by 3 meter hole in the outer hull.

They had just struck a mine. A stealth mine that had been secretly deployed by the unknown attackers before they had departed.

“Oh come on now! You have got to fracking kidding me, sithspit Mother…” Kalen let loose with a string of profanities.

Aliso System, Aliso City
Landsdown Docks, Bay 20
The small ID10 seeker droid rested on a tool cart, its matte black body trying to pass as someone’s forgotten holotape. The alarm klaxon howled through Landsdown, distant blaster fire and shouted orders weaving into the siren’s metallic wail. The entire dock complex vibrated like a struck tuning fork, every bulkhead humming with panic and hurried evacuation. Somewhere far below, a cargo lifter screamed as its repulsors overloaded, the sound swallowed by the cavernous dockyard like thunder trapped in a metal canyon.
The droid activated without ceremony. Its tiny repulsor hummed as it lifted from the cart and drifted upward, gliding toward a recessed shadow in the wall. A single red photoreceptor burned to life, scanning the bay. A Belbullab-22 sat mid-repair, its pilot long gone. Power cables trailed from its open fuselage like exposed nerves, swaying gently from the power currents. A dropped hydrospanner rolled across the floor, tapping softly against durasteel as if counting seconds.
The droid slipped into the maze of ceiling corridors that spiderwebbed through Landsdown, pausing only when beings sprinted beneath it. Every movement was measured. Every pause was calculated. Boots hammered against the floor in chaotic rhythms, some heavy with armor, others light with fear. Voices echoed and overlapped, clipped orders dissolving into frantic questions. The ceiling ducts smelled faintly of ozone and coolant leaks, a familiar perfume of industry and impending disaster.
Its directive was simple: document every ship currently docked in Landsdown.
Bay 21 stood empty. Bay 22 did not. The droid hovered silently and zoomed in on a Star Courier resting in the docking cradle. It captured the vessel from every angle and transmitted the data in a tight encrypted burst to the Eternal Order database. The transmission lasted less than a breath, disguised within the background chatter of emergency comms. No alarms detected. No sensors complained. The message slipped into the galaxy like a rumor whispered into a crowded room.

Task complete. Move on.

Bay 23 opened into chaos.
A Firespray gunship sat on the durasteel floor, surrounded by scattered tools and half-disassembled components. Overhead lights flickered in uneven pulses, painting the ship in alternating bands of harsh white and shadow. Steam hissed from a ruptured conduit, drifting across the bay like stage fog for a performance nobody wanted to attend.
Two DUM-series pit droids darted in frantic circles, grabbing parts with frantic enthusiasm that suggested urgency and zero planning. Beneath them, a pair of MSE-6 mouse droids squealed as they scurried between boots and crates, broadcasting alarm signals to anyone willing to listen. From a side corridor, a K-Series security droid lumbered into view, a repeating blaster already braced in one hand while the other seized a second weapon from a rack. The heavy droid’s footsteps landed like falling anvils, each impact sending faint tremors through the plating beneath the Firespray.
The seeker droid drifted forward and settled lightly onto the Firespray’s hull. A micro-slicer extended toward an access panel. The hull radiated stored heat, a fading memory of recent flight. Beneath the plating, fuel pumps ticked as they cooled, each sound a mechanical heartbeat slowing after a sprint. The droid’s optic narrowed, prioritizing data pathways and entry points with surgical indifference.
A sudden electronic gargle shattered the moment.
The droid’s photoreceptor snapped upward just in time to focus on a charging buzz droid, its spinning saw screaming toward the tiny spy.
Then the seekers' signal vanished.