On the far side of Zalxuc City from a certain bacta tank warehouse Verjylla, accompanied by The Wookiee and Bas, were meeting with Lieutenant Blaine Averre and his four-being Alliance SpecOps team to organize their journey to the port so that they could join the Borrowed Time when it left Thyferra. It was late at night, and Averre’s team had been laying low for a few days, so they simply planned to drive an acquired landspeeder to the port. No sooner had they settled on the route, however, than a small but respectable fireball and accompanying mushroom cloud blossomed on the other side of the city with a window-shattering roar. Near or at a certain bacta tank warehouse, in fact. With the sigh typical of long-suffering Bothans surrounded by maniacs, Verjylla opened a channel on her personal comlink. Sure enough, Nak was already yelling over it.
It had been a long few days for the band of Inquisitorial acolytes. They’d boarded the Rogue Trader ship in pursuit of the Faceless Trader Durron, only to be split up until an hour or two ago. Trapped on a truly terrible ship with at least one daemonic incursion, a sputtering Gellar Field Generator, and far too many warpy doorways and malfunctioning grav plates, the group largely considered themselves lucky to have only accrued a few score Insanity Points between them, doubly lucky that only one eyeball had been lost, and triply lucky that only one Fate Point had been burnt. At least they considered themselves lucky until, in the middle of a gunfight with Faceless Trade goons, Meem the Astropath finally noticed the daemonic aura coming off of fellow acolyte Happy the Chirurgeon.
As the small task force led by the Borrowed Time and now going by the name of the Rabblerousers hurtled through hyperspace to put some distance between itself and Sullust, the various leaders were meeting aboard the CEC L-2783 Rabblerouser One. Definitively out of touch with High Command the mixed group of Special Operations agents, Sullustan Resistance recruits, and Bolthole Station refugees were facing down the prospect of carrying on the Rebellion by themselves. It was a daunting proposition. While they were relatively well-stocked and had essentially been growing the task force ever since leaving Dahvil, they were operating on their own initiative and with no supply line. Thankfully the Intelligence agents assigned to report to Patience had a few leads . . .
Despite some mishaps and a few crashed airspeeders the Borrowed Time crew had managed to make it on and off the Smuggler’s Moon of Nar Shaddaa, recruiting the Force Sensitive Captain Pontay and his Sleight of Hand in the process. They were still ‘out in the cold’, however, so once they were safely back in hyperspace the rebels weighed their options for their next objective. Leaving Hutt Space would bring them by the Kwenn Space Station, where they believed another Force Sensitive to be, but the crew came to the conclusion that its proximity to Nar Shaddaa made it too hot at the moment. With Patience leading the charge because of the likelihood of getting back in touch with High Command, the destination was chosen: Sullust.
In the small trading town of Devonshire, a small group of adventurers just getting their start had a simple job: go to the town, find the adventurer-turned-bandit calling himself Baron Dunbar, and bring him to justice alive or dead. Rumors had it that the Baron and his bandits were actually in the town itself, spending their nights at the Pachyderm & Palace tavern. The adventurers would have to get into the town, gain access to the tavern, and deal with Dunbar and his bandits.
The Borrowed Time, the CR-90 corvette called the Last Ditch, and a mixed group of starfighters cruised through the darkness of space, several hyperjumps away from the planet Dahvil and the now-destroyed Rebel base there. While the rebels had made good their escape and savaged the Imperials in the process they were faced with an immediate problem: the Time‘s communication codes with Alliance High Command had expired days ago, and new ones were supposed to be delivered to them via the now-destroyed base. With no way to immediately get back in touch with the Alliance, the small task force was going to have to rely on old intelligence and their own judgment; they’d be picking their own objectives for a while.
Cole ran for the cockpit, leaping into the pilot chair and desperately trying to get the Borrowed Time up and running even as Bas did the same in the engine room. Nak dropped into the dorsal turret and strapped in, swinging the blaster cannons towards the blown-open hangar doors. Verjylla was on the ship’s comm, reporting what was going on as Bee’f left her in a dash for the boarding ramp. The Wookiee and Shikte rushed into the hangar bay at the head of two squads of Alliance infantry trainees, while in the base’s armory Caleb hurried to don his new armor. In Bolthole Station’s command center, Patience was trying to figure out exactly what was going on, but at least part of it became clear as a full platoon of Stormtroopers – 60 strong – charged through the hangar doors with blaster rifles blazing.
Having successfully engaged more of the Empire’s Inquisitors, managing to kill the Mandalorian Inquisitor Skirata and rescuing a young Force-sensitive Mirialan and her parents in the process, the Borrowed Time crew made a call to Alliance High Command once they were clear of The Wheel. Now that they had non-combatant passengers they wanted to check in. High Command congratulated them on their success, and agreed that the rescue changed things. Lacking an immediate solution, High Command ordered the Borrowed Time to head for the planet Dahvil, off the beaten path of the hyperlanes and home to a secret Rebel installation. The crew were going to get a chance to rest while they waited for further instructions.
In one of the vast hangar bays of the space station known as The Wheel a grate covering a ventilation shaft shuddered once, twice, and then fell to the deck unnoticed among the bay’s hustle and bustle. A moment later a particularly dusty Bothan slid out before reaching back in and hauling his gear out; as promised, Bee’f had managed to slip free from the Customs officials and made his own way to the station. Sure enough the Borrowed Time was right there, but she was locked up tight. Clearly the others had gone ahead. Bee’f pulled out a comlink and tried to get in touch, but the immediate response was a lot of yelling about lightsabers, Mandalorians, and security forces.
Several days after the near-destruction or capture of the Shadow Raptor and the destruction of the ISD Iceheart, the crew of the Borrowed Time joined General Cracken and much of the Raptor’screw for a funeral service in the forward hangar bay of the frigate. Crewmen killed in the fighting, either by droids or by ion fire from the Iceheart, Intelligence operatives who’d fallen retaking the ship, a pair of Y-Wing pilots who’d been shot down, and an Intelligence Major who had died rather than unlock the datacore, were laid out in coffins. The ship’s cook, an Ithorian, was the closest they had to a spiritual figure, and gave a short speech about consigning their comrades and friends to the cosmos and the cycle of life. Cracken himself then spoke of how their sacrifice would not be in vain, before the coffins were launched towards a star. The crew were dismissed, but the Borrowed Time rebels were quickly pulled aside for a new briefing. It was time to go back to work.