Star Wars: The Red Fleet Project (Open to Collaborators)

"The Mole: The Nicest Pirate This Side of Anywhere" by @CaccabisRufa1109

Written by CaccabisRufa1109 for MTrac1000 - September 10 2020

Note: CaccabisRufa1109 is a young fanfiction writer who tries to balance Wattpad and school to varying degrees of success, likes to experiment, will come up with OC designs and story ideas on the fly, and have somehow managed to get over three thousand on their first (and debatably crappy) fanfiction book, which they are thankful for. :p

***

-Space route to Kessel, 5 B.B.Y

Well. This day was going decently, all things considered, Paroke Dunchit mused, relaxing in his chair. They'd successfully caught up with and discreetly followed an Imperial convoy. His first mate, a young female tech-savvy Nautolan by the name of Chaka, had also, as per his instructions, subtly hacked the comms channel and ship databases of the convoy as they approached, and was downloading information. They were after intel, not a fight.

Some folks were shocked when they saw that Paroke's flagship, the Reformed was a repurposed modified YV-865 Aurore-class freighter, others mocked the size of the craft, but whenever they did, Paroke would shake his head and chuckle.

The Reformed was a fast ship, armed to the teeth, and advantageous for stealth missions such as this. Some of Paroke's colleagues laughed at his choice of ship, but couldn't deny it brought results.

"Download 25% complete, chief," Chaka chirped. Paroke smiled. His young second-in-command's enthusiasm was infectious. "We've got to stick to 'em like a brain worm to a nostril, sir."

Paroke hummed a tune, then decided to amuse himself by listening in to the Imperial comms system while they waited, gazing out at the four Imperial ships some distance off. The planet Kessel was off to the right.

"Usurper to Colossus,  is your cargo secure?" a clipped sounding voice echoed over the comms.

"Colossus here. 30 scared slaves all alive and well. For now at least," a wheezing voice cackled. Well. That changes things, Paroke thought.

"Usurper to Obliterator, is your cargo secure?" the clipped voice echoed again. Paroke cursed under his breath.

"Obliterator here. Tell the Commander we've still got all our new slaves."

"Chief, they've got us listening in on a-" Qiv, the Mole's Trandoshan pilot began, but Chaka interrupted.

"A SLAVE convoy chief! Can't we do something?" she wailed. Paroke stroked his chin thoughtfully. His crew was made entirely of slaves that had either been liberated, escaped or Paroke had bought them their freedom.

He'd taken them in, given them job opportunities, and they looked up to him as a sort of father figure. He hated letting them down, besides, Paroke despised the Empire. The kind-hearted Talpini hated to think of the poor innocents packed into those ships, being taken away to do back-breaking work, and they'd only survive a year if they were lucky.

"What's our download status?" he asked, beginning to formulate a plan.

"49% boss," Chaka lightly thumped the holopad which was conducting the download and swore loudly. "Can't this stupid thing go any faster?"

"You know the chief likes to avoid combat," Qiv sighed and drummed the ship's console with his fingers. "The Reformed could take 'em though. Can't we comm the gunners, sir?"

"Get me thermal scans of the convoy first. I need to know which ships the innocents are on," Paroke ordered. The communications officer, a male Togruta who went by the name of Kurdar, nodded and tapped away at his holopad. Chaka whooped excitedly.