OPERATION RIMWARD SPEAR

Date: 4297.032

For nearly a year, the Sith Empire has carved a relentless path through the Outer Rim, advancing unchecked by the Republic. World after world has fallen beneath their shadow. The Jedi Order, spread thin and fighting alone, holds the line where it can, while unrest boils over on Coruscant—civilians flooding the streets in protest of the Republic’s inaction.

At last, the Senate responds. The Republic fleet is mobilized, launching a major offensive in the Seswenna Sector. Their objective: to deliver ground forces to the beleaguered world of Eriadu and shatter the Empire’s blockade of the Rimma Trade Route, a lifeline to the rest of the Outer Rim.

Aboard the Primarch, a newly formed interceptor squadron—Blue Squadron—prepares for deployment. As they run final checks on their ships, every pilot knows what lies ahead: a brutal fight against a powerful enemy, and the first true test of their mettle as a unit.

After Action Report

Date: 4297.032

The Republic fleet made its jump into the Seswenna Sector with the objective of breaking the Imperial blockade of the Rimma Trade Route and liberating the occupied world of Eriadu. The Primarch deployed with thousands of Republic troops onboard, ready to descend to the surface. Our mission in Blue Squadron was clear: intercept and neutralize a wing of Imperial fighters before they could threaten the transport ships.

Upon arrival, Imperial dreadnaughts held orbit, but their fighters had not yet launched. I gave the order to go full throttle—when the MK VI Supremacy-class Starfighters swarmed from the hangars, we were already in position.

Lieutenant Bradt, serving as our strike coordinator, led the charge. His opening salvo ripped through the lead Interceptor, sending it into a spiral down toward Eriadu. I ordered the squad to break formation and clean up the rest. Despite taking some damage to his ship, Bradt pressed the attack, helping us eliminate two more fighters and disable three.

Meanwhile, the Primarch came under heavy fire from a Harrower-class dreadnaught. The enemy brought sixteen turbolaser cannons to bear. To give the Primarch a fighting chance, we needed to disable at least four. We regrouped for a coordinated strike, threading the gauntlet between two capital ships under heavy fire.

While I intended to lead the run, Bradt insisted on taking point. I let him have it—he’d earned that much. He plugged aux power into his shields and launched a volley of concussion missiles, destroying the first cannon.

I took out the second, though my ship was damaged in the process.

Rax followed with a clean kill on the third.

Raila eliminated the fourth with precision flying, and Cas went above and beyond, taking out a fifth. With that, we had done enough to turn the tide. I gave the order to break off and reengage the remaining fighters. In the ensuing dogfight, Bradt and Rax both notched kills. We disabled another three.

That’s when we got the call. A second Imperial fleet emerged from behind Eriadu’s moon—enough ships to flank us and cut us off. The Primarch began immediate troop withdrawal, and the Admiral issued the order to retreat.

Blue Squadron received orders to jump to the recon point and scan it ahead of the fleet. I assigned Raila the jump calculations. She had a contingency already loaded and got the coordinates to the squad fast, though I didn’t get time to run my final system checks. We jumped.

What should’ve been empty space turned out to be a trap—two Terminus-class destroyers waiting for us. I immediately ordered Cas to transmit a warning to the Primarch, while Raila plotted the next jump. A swarm of fighters launched from the destroyers, but we were out of there before they could lock on—though a close shot rattled Raila’s shields.

The next jump dropped us into yet another battle. The Primarch and part of the fleet were already engaged with three dreadnaughts and multiple destroyers. It was clear: someone had leaked our rendezvous points.

I gave Raila new orders—select a completely off-the-books rendezvous point. Meanwhile, the rest of us dropped into the fight to defend the Primarch.

Raila began scanning star charts and identified a suitable fallback point. An enemy fighter caught her mid-calculation, but she pulled a textbook maneuver that sent the Imp colliding with a destroyer.

Bradt led another attack run, taking out an enemy harasser. I landed a solid hit on a second. Rax followed with a clean kill, using his linked cannons to full effect. Raila closed the fight with another kill, clearing our airspace.

With the immediate threat handled, we transmitted the new jump point. The surviving ships jumped in sequence. Those that made it were banged up, but alive.

Blue Squadron returned to the Primarch. Three of our interceptors need repairs. But we did our job—we gave the fleet a chance to fight another day.

—Captain Bren Masters, Blue Squadron
Republic Navy

CHARACTER VIGNETTE – RAILA VEX

Date: 4297.033

Raila Vex sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters aboard the Primarch, the pale glow of a sector-wide holo projection spilling across the room like moonlight. Stars hovered in the air around her—clustered in constellations, pinned along trade routes and hyperspace lanes, each one rendered in sharp detail by the ship’s astrogation core. Planets drifted slowly in rotation, suspended inches from her outstretched fingers.

She tapped the air, adjusting the rotation speed and centering on the Seswenna Sector. Eriadu spun into view—burned and scarred from recent conflict. Around it, the glowing paths of star lanes shifted subtly as fleet positions were updated. She leaned forward, studying them not with wonder, but precision.

Raila had always loved the stars, but not in the poetic way people talked about in recruitment holos. Her fascination was technical, methodical. Her father—a port systems manager back on Chandrila—used to bring her to his post on slow days, teaching her how to chart shipping manifests, how to read transit codes, and how to think three steps ahead. He wasn’t a soldier, but he believed in order, in knowing where things were going and why. That rubbed off on her. By the time she was twelve, she could run sim-routes faster than some of the junior officers.

Joining the Republic Navy wasn’t some grand rebellion or noble crusade. It was a choice. One she made because she was good at it. Good at flying. Better at navigating. And out here, people needed that kind of skill.

The title of “Ace” still felt strange. Three kills in one battle. Technically earned. Unearned, maybe, in her own head. It wasn’t the label that unsettled her, it was how quickly it had happened. She remembered the flash of the first fighter tearing apart under her cannon fire. The way the second spiraled out and vanished into Eriadu’s clouds. The third—clean shot, vapor trail, no time to process.

She didn’t know their names. Didn’t want to. Not because she didn’t care, but because it wouldn’t change anything. She didn’t pull the trigger out of hate. She did it because if she hadn’t, her people would’ve died. That was the job.

Her eyes tracked a single blinking star near the edge of the display—the fleet’s emergency fallback rendezvous. That jump had been hers to calculate. Fast, clean, just on the edge of safe. She got it done. The fleet was still breathing because of it. That was something.

She stood, walking slowly through the projection, stars casting ghost-shadows across her face. The room shrank as she deactivated the holo. Just walls again. Just a small, standard Navy berth. The stars were gone, but the map stayed in her head.

There were more jumps to make. More routes to chart. And when the time came, she’d be ready.

PERSONAL LOG – CAS RENDER

Date: 4297.035

Alright… day three post-battle and the hangar smells like solvent and ion scorched plating again. Beautiful. Took me and the droids less than a day to get all six birds patched up and humming. 2,500 credits in parts. Could’ve been way worse. Brendt’s stabilizer coupling was cooked, Rax blew through half a power relay grid, and Raila—somehow—came back with her port nacelle nearly sheared off. She still landed smoother than me, but, y’know, that’s Raila.

Captain Masters says we’ll be flying again soon. No rest for the sabacc table. I’ve been running comms diagnostics on loop since the fallback op. Still bugs me I couldn’t get that warning out in time. Protocols held, sure—but what if they hadn’t? What if the Primarch walked right into a firing line because I was three seconds too slow?

I logged another test on the relay buffer, re-tuned the encryption key priority… and set a backup channel override. That won’t happen again. Not on my watch.

And yeah… I got a kill. I guess. Feels weird to even say it. One second I was trying to jam their targeting, the next I’m yanking hard starboard and squeezing the trigger on a clean shot. Debris scattered off my viewport like metal snow. I don’t think I’ll forget that sound. Haven’t told anyone. Not sure I need to.

Raila made Ace. First in the squad. Honestly? I thought it’d be Rax or Brendt. Rax has nerves of steel, and Brendt’s been flying combat sims since I was in prep school. But Raila—she just sees the stars different. Plots faster than nav computers half the time. She earned it. I’m happy for her. Maybe a little intimidated, but… proud too.

Anyway, system checks are green across the board. I’ll get back to the diagnostics. Just want everything to be perfect next time we fly. We might not win the war yet—but I’ll be damned if Blue Squadron’s not ready for it.