Ah Rysi, it's all going to pot. 

So Karl is really cancelling your contract? 

Yeah, it looks that way. And the Inspector says there's no recourse for my men these blaggards shot on account that no one outside my crew will testify against them.

They've got the townsfolk scared. Slark's men have been making threats around town.

So what are you going to do about it? Everyone here knows you and your crew are the best team this town has hired in a long while. 

But it's the council who pays the bills. And Slark's crew have promised to do the same work for half the price. It looks like I'm just out of a job.

Maybe not.

Who are you?

My name is Dodava and I represent a certain party interested in hiring your services. 

You need a wood crew?

No, we need someone who knows these mountains. My friend here was just telling me about an Imperial stronghold.

Have you ever heard of Burnium Ro's stronghold?

And you are?

Name's Bron and let's just say I have a reason to hate the Empire. They took everything from me.

Well my problem isn't with the Empire, it's with a Cartel pushing me out of my business.

Maybe we should talk somewhere more private, it'll be easier to help you understand.

Louis, I need you to clear this place. Can you do that for me?

Sure Vic, sure.

Thanks, I owe you one.

I'm shocked! Shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!

Your winnings, sir.

Oh, thank you very much. Everybody out at once!

Will you lock up for me, uncle?

Yes dear. Now Vic, I'll just be in the back if you need me.

Alright, start talking Dodava.

I work for Lady Priya of the Flame of Zhar. I was hear on Ikkrukk when Bron came to me with some interesting information. Information we pay highly for. But we need a local who can get into Burnium Ro's stronghold and retrieve it for us.

I don't need money. And I don't want to trade trouble with one Cartel for another. 

The Flame of Zhar is not a Cartel. We're more of a syndicate.

Meiloorun, meilarun. What's the difference?

I'm not here to recruit you, and you don't have to like us. But I have information on this Slark and his gang. Information that can help you get rid of them. Help me get what I want and we can help you get what you want.

Following the Imperial Remnants dastardly actions of burning the fields and homes of farmers on Reytha, Bri-sen, much lesser known cousin of renowned Talz chieftain Thi-sen, is once again trying his hand at farming, but this time on Codia. 

Perhaps Bri-sen should have taken the events on Reytha as a sign that farming wasn't for him. However, Bri-sen had become rather fond of farming. He missed his goldfruit farm. Perhaps he'd grow a new one some day. He had meant to go back home to Orto Plutonia, but he'd accidentally boarded the wrong flight to Batuu. It had been chaotic. Many farmers had lost both their homes and their livelihoods. Thankfully both he and Iicari had made it out alive. She had decided to stay on Batuu for the moment in Tabanna. He hoped to see her again. The Confederacy of Free Systems had an outpost on Codia and was helping war refugees start new lives there. Many were staying in Tabanna for the time being. He was one of the first to settle permanently on Codia. He had been given some seeds to start growing food to sustain himself and materials to build a home. They regularly shipped supplies to him and a few more refugees would arrive. They had settled all around the valley near the outpost. Bri-sen's house was the closest to the outpost, but it was still a decent walk. Maybe Bri-sen would send word to Iicari when the next supply run arrived. No one had previously lived on Codia. It was quiet and peaceful, but also lonely. It beat having to deal with imperials, clones, or droids invading his home and slaughtering his friends and tribe. Bri-sen liked the peaceful life, but wished for friends again. For now, Codia was P'zil. Home.

Vasher had imagined a repair shop.

What he found was something closer to a droid graveyard run by very small lunatics.

Parts covered nearly every surface of Brikk Voss’s cramped workshop. Tink, Zip, and Klik had already placed Red on the workbench and were swarming over the damaged chassis while BD-9R chirped diagnostics.

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Brikk opened a panel in his cybernetic forearm. A slender probe extended from one finger and plugged directly into Red’s processor.

“You built that into your arm?” Vasher asked.

“Needed it.”

Brikk studied the readings.

“Motors I can fix. Power system too.” He tapped the processor housing. “Memory core’s the problem.”

“Can you replace it?”

Brikk frowned. “Easy. But whatever wakes up afterward wouldn’t be Red.”

He turned to the others.

“We do it the difficult way.”

The Anzellans cheered.

Vasher found this deeply concerning.

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The workshop erupted into motion. Tink disappeared halfway inside Red’s chassis. Klik worked through corrupted memory addresses with BD-9R while Zip vanished into a pile of parts and returned holding a power regulator.

Brikk eyed it. “Where’d you get that?”

Zip grinned.

Brikk sighed. “Never mind.”

Then Red’s core surged.

“Cut power!”

Brikk drove his cybernetic hand into the chassis. Metal contacts snapped from his wrist and clamped onto the regulator.

Crack.

Smoke curled from his arm.

Vasher stared. “Is that bad?”

“For the arm? Yes.” Brikk glanced at Red. “For him? No.”

Minutes later, Red was stable—but still dark.

Brikk studied the readings. “Memory’s intact. He just can’t find his way through it.”

BD-9R connected to Red and began a slow series of familiar chirps while Klik rebuilt the damaged memory paths.

Nothing.

Then—

beep.

Red’s eye flickered to life.

A second beep followed, sharp and distinctly irritated.

Vasher laughed.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

The Anzellans erupted in celebration.

Brikk allowed himself a small smile.

Vasher looked at him. “What do I owe you?”

“Parts.”

“That’s it?”

Brikk glanced at the celebrating Anzellans.

“And caf.”

He sighed.

“A lot of caf.”

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The cantina lights were low, washed in the amber haze of Dorin’s filtered atmosphere beyond the viewport. Vasher Drayn sat alone in a corner booth, flight jacket still creased from the Ashlon campaign, helmet resting beside a half‑empty glass. Across from him lay the scorched chassis of BD‑R3 “Red,” the little copilot droid who’d saved his life more times than he could count. He poured a second drink and let it sit untouched, a quiet memorial in the dim light.

The door hissed open. An Ugnaught in a grease‑stained vest stomped inside, trailed by a BD‑unit and a swarm of tiny Anzellans carrying tool satchels. They weren’t here for him; they moved with the chaotic purpose of a crew already late for their next job. But the droid stopped mid‑stride, tilted its head, and chirped sharply at the sight of Red’s broken frame.

Vasher stiffened as the droid approached his table. “Hey—easy,” he muttered, pulling Red closer.

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The Ugnaught arrived a moment later, grumbling. “BD‑9R, leave the man alone. We don’t poke at strangers’ scrap.” But the BD‑unit ignored him, projecting a flickering diagnostic holo over Red’s damaged core.

Before Vasher could protest, the Anzellans swarmed under and over the booth, squeaking orders at each other as sparks flickered beneath the table. Tools clattered. Someone shouted triumphantly in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Stop—stop! That’s my droid!” Vasher snapped.

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The Ugnaught raised both hands. “Relax, pilot. They’re just checking the damage.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to. I know a BD‑unit in trouble when I see one.”

BD‑9R hopped up onto the Ugnaught's shoulder and projected a soft holo—Red’s last stable memory, a brief moment of calm before the fighting turned ugly. Vasher’s anger faltered, replaced by the familiar ache of loss. The Ugnaught studied Red’s core, his expression shifting from annoyance to something closer to concern.

“This one’s been through hell,” he murmured. “But maybe not beyond saving.”

He snapped his fingers, and the Anzellans instantly packed up Red’s parts with military precision. Vasher stood, torn between instinct and hope.

“…Fine,” he said at last. “Take him. But I’m coming with you.”

The Ugnaught shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

BD‑9R chirped encouragingly as the crew filed out into Dorin’s storm‑lit night, Red’s faintly glowing core cradled in an Anzellan’s tiny arms. Vasher followed, leaving the untouched drink behind.

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The Preservation and Research Foundation have begun exploring the rocky deserts on the bright side of Codia's second moon, the Phoenix Moon. After several months of planning and gathering funds, made possible with the Confederacy of Free System's interest in the Codia system, several of the Foundations members and leaders have gone back into the field! They have discovered an abandoned ruined city after weeks of trekking in the desert and are beginning to investigate the question: why was it abandoned?  

Members of the Expedition:

Tolli Sierras: archaeologist graduate of the Telosian Academy who studied under Professor Nicholas Robert Quibbles Ph.D. until an accident with Quibbles' remnant employers left her injured. Jal Mes stumbled upon her by pure coincidence and took her to Kashyyyk, where she was almost eaten by a mind-controlled Wyyyschok spider controlled by Dr. Quibbles, who also happened to be Jal's rival. They have since all worked out their differences over a picnic of Leivaks and roasted porg and meiloorun sandwiches. She is currently working as an intern with the Foundation while looking for graduate programs. 

Jal Mes: native of the planet Duro, prior to it becoming uninhabitable and former member of the Keepers of the Force. He left due to his wanderlust and love for the stars. His reluctance to speak Galactic Basic and preference for Durese has caused friction with others, which made his adventures on Ossus and Hoth, well, interesting to say the least. He is also fluent in Shyriiwook. On the whole, his people skills are rather stunted due to living with repressed monks. Only recently he joined up with the Foundation. He almost exclusively drinks the Durese drink Leivaks, which he hopes more his colleagues would appreciate the wonderful aroma of, but alas! His academic interests are in force/spiritual-related artifacts and languages. 

Dr. Aposta Ramm: the Head of the Research Department for the Foundation. One of the original members of the Foundation, Dr. Ramm works both on her own research projects whilst also directing foundation members to interesting new projects or inquiries from both academic journals and people who don’t want their heritage and artifacts to fall into the grimy hands of warlords, pirates, or other opportunists. 

Professor Pod Floon: the Head of Activities for the Foundation following his exploits with the intrepid Harnabus Clod and Galactic Gazette journalist, Kitsa Rigo, on the jungles of Imynusoph. He was a tenure track professor at the Chandrilian Academy, but decided to take a several year long galactic sabbatical to explore the furthest reaches of the galaxy. His research is focused mostly on flora and fauna, and he will enthusiastically take any opportunity to go on further adventures, despite his new work in administration which he tackles with a little less, but great enthusiasim! 

Geeno Rii: An elderly Rodian academic whose only interest in life is pottery. No, seriously his entire office is just stacks of pottery and boxes filled with meticulously identified and sorted pottery shards and items. He even makes his own pottery when he isn’t digging it up and studying it. Dr. Ramm convinced him to join the expedition by promising that there'd be plenty of pottery on the Phoenix Moon.

Ehezeva Di’an: Originally a Freedom Fighter on Ryloth, Ehezeva has since pursued her passion for archaeology and artifacts following the success of the Ryloth Insurgency. 

BD-4: a refurbished BD unit, found by Ehezeva in the marketplace of Tabanna.

Note on Characters: Pod Floon was created by Sam, and his exciting past adventures can be read here! Jal Mes and Tolli Sierras appeared previously here and here. There's also room for more! It'd be great to see more relic hunters pop up around the galaxy :)

The RZ-1B A-Wing Interceptor is an upgraded production variant of the legendary RZ-1 developed by Chardaan Shipyards under the New Republic Fleet Development Initiative. As peace slowly returned to the Core Worlds following the Galactic Civil War, the New Republic commissioned a modernized interceptor that preserved the blistering speed and exceptional maneuverability of its predecessor while addressing the needs of a growing fleet.

The redesigned ion engine nacelles feature high-efficiency exhaust nozzles for improved thrust and fuel economy, reinforced stabilizer foils for greater control at extreme speeds, and integrated maneuvering thrusters that enhance precision handling during combat and carrier operations.

During the Galactic Civil War, Rebel sympathizers secretly assembled A-Wing interceptors beneath the watchful eyes of Imperial overseers. With the rise of the New Republic, those same shipyards openly resumed production and were awarded the A-Wing Replacement Project. The resulting RZ-1B became Chardaan's pride and joy, carrying the planet's legacy into a new era of New Republic starfighter production.

Chardaan Orbital Shipyards

After months of development, testing, and production, Chardaan's first RZ-1B A-wing is finally ready for deployment. The New Republic's Fleet Development Initiative has brought new life to the orbital shipyards, with engineers across Chardaan working to develop and produce the next generation of starfighters for the growing fleet. Today, all that work has come together on one landing platform.

Tu Thums climbed into the cockpit as the ground crew began their final checks.

“Power systems?”

“Green.”

“Flight controls?”

“Responsive.”

“Engines?”

The technician looked over the diagnostic readout before giving Tu a thumbs-up.

“Novaldex nacelles are performing exactly as expected.”

Tu looked over the controls one last time.

“Well, I think it's time we see what she can do.”

The ground crew stepped back from the fighter as the engines came to life.

After months of work, Chardaan's newest A-wing was finally ready to join the New Republic fleet.

Note for Judging: Please only consider the landing pad for judging as the A-Wing will be entered separately.

Once the snows had cleared from the highlands of Pam'ba, the Freedom Fighters had moved back to their Highlands Base to begin operations on Pam'ba and the surrounding systems. Much of Pam'ba was wetlands, which weren't ideal for landing fighters. The small group of freedom fighters and their A-Wing air support had arrived around noon, departing from a 1st Volunteer fleet frigate. They had been called in by the small amount of settlers who had been displaced in the Galactic Civil War following the discovery of toxic gases near their settlement. Pam'ba had once been mined for phosphates, so the mines near the settlement would be searched first.

Lieutenant Dorn had gotten a call a few weeks back while he was on leave in the federation headquarters on Batuu. It had come from the leader of the settlers, a short gran named Jebro. He had been coughing throughout their call and his eyes were bloodshot. He said that almost everyone in the village were coughing and some of the settlers were too weak to work the rice paddies. Food would be short for the settlers. This worried Dorn. Although a seasoned veteran of the rebellion, he had never dealt with fighting a plague or famine before. Their had to be a rational reason for the disease. Immediately, Dorn had gone to find Joo Roo Tifaka, the head of settlement planning. It had taken most of the afternoon searching everywhere in the caravansary of Tabana to find her. Upon finding her, Dorn relayed the message from Jebro. 

"We must find the source of this and fast," Tifaka replied. "I know you're on leave, but could you get to Pam'ba and fast?"

"Yes, I'll leave immediately. There's a 1st Volunteer fleet frigate docked in the spaceport."

"You'll need medical supplies and food for the settlers," Tifaka said. "I'll prepare these and have them delivered. In the meantime, I suggest you find some free soldiers Lieutenant."

"I know a few," Dorn replied. "I'll collect them and meet you at the frigate."

Their transport had landed first at the small landing pad. Then they docked their air support to refuel. The landing pad was located on a grassy field on top of a round mountain, the comms controls on the peak of the the mountain. Looked to be some sorta granitic dome structure. It wasn't the largest mountain in the area, but it offered a commanding view of the jungle below. 

"See if you can find any signs of the settlers or phosphate mines, Enga," Dorn told the leader of the pilots. He'd only been able to scramble three A-Wings last minute. Once they'd found the settlement, they'd deliver the medical supplies and food. Unfortunately, it'd be hard to find them in all of the marshes, but it must be done. 

"Makedaa, check the comms system. I want it operational so we can get those supplies asap, once those villagers are found. Dosha, I want you on patrol. Make sure this base isn't near any phosphorous mines or unfriendlies." 

"Lieutenant!," the pilot, Enga, called. "My ship needs a few repairs before I can head out. The stabilizer got banged up real bad at Balmorra."

"Right, where's the mechanic?" Dorn said. He scanned the small landing pad, there was a large pile of crates stacked unevenly. Dorn grunted. This was going to be a tiring mission, wasn't it. But it was for a good cause, he reminded himself. Suddenly, a green head belonging to a rodian poked up over the pile of crates. The rodian disappeared for a moment and then emerged again. There was a lot of clanging. 

"I'm over here," the green rodian said, panting while running over with a large box of tools. The rodian placed the box next to a small crane on the landing pad. 

"I'm Cheela Oya by the way, I don't think we've met."

"No, we have. In Tabanna. Remember, I pulled you out of the cantina mid-lunch?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry, I forgot."

"Right," Dorn replied. "Enga needs repairs, can you fix the ship?"

"Yes!" Cheela replied, enthusiastically. She climbed onto the crane and into the seat. She seemed to know how to operate it. Dorn was surprised it still worked given the base hadn't been used in so long. "Where's Enga going anyway?"

"We don't know that yet," Dorn said with a scowl. He preferred precision and good planning, but this was urgent after all. "The settlers should be located in a marshland north of here. It's past the equatorial jungle and near the coast. We weren't given exact coordinates." 

"You'll find it, I'm sure! Anyway, these repairs shouldn't take too long." 

While Cheela repaired the A-Wing, Enga was recalibrating the controls in the cockpit. 

"We better soon. Those settlers are in trouble." 

"All right, done!"

"Already?" Dorn asked, raising his eyebrow. He scoffed. She was fast. "Well, that's good news."

"Yep, just need to finish refueling."

"It's full Cheela," Enga replied from in the cockpit. Dorn went over to the fuel cannister and disconnected the pipe from the engine to spare Cheela the effort. Makedaa returned from checking out the comms system, his steps clanging on the metal gangway.

"Comms are good, I was able to rely a message back to the frigate. We should also be able to communicate with Enga from it."

"Let's test it."

Makedaa ran back to the comms system and pressed a few keys, before leaning his head in to speak into the intercom. "This is Makedaa, Enga do you copy?" 

Dorn and Enga could hear Makedaa's voice from the ship's intercom. "Roger that."

"Good," Dorn replied. "It works." 

Enga closed the cockpit, while Dorn and Cheela gave the ship leeway to take off. Once Enga had left for her reconaissance, Dorn called Makedaa over. 

"Let's go check out the jungle below. Cheela, we'll be back in three hours."

With that, they began their trek down the mountain.

Overhead view

A-wing: modified from set 75150

The Freedom Fighters

From left to right: Pilot Enga Sudrassa, Mechanic Cheela Oya, Lieutenant Uhoj Dorn, Dosha Iopezi, and Makedaa N'deral

Note for scoring: the A-Wing is modified from the set 75150.

Teegan attempts to stop the droid without destroying the satchel it’s carrying. Contents are coordinates to the Separatist cache. Lorn weaves the J-3E land speeder amongst the brush and rocks of Enarc in pursuit.

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In the mysterious, ancient wastes of Zonju V...

"The swoop bikes these pirates use are damned fast..." Nira Scorn thought as she slowly eased off the throttle, bringing her own speeder bike to a stop at the scene of the crash. She'd almost lost her prey in these winding mountains and passes, but a well-placed shot had led to an unmistakable explosion as the pirate screamed out of sight.

She sat for a moment at the controls before removing her helmet, tasting the burning fuel and dry dust in the air.

As she approached the wreckage on foot, she produced a scanner, checking the area for any signs of movement. These pirates were notorious for springing traps on Ashlon forces, using the byzantine network of caves and rock formations to hide until they could strike. Her droid companion, X-3, whirred behind her, checking the crash.

"Hrnng"

The sound came from the flaming husk of the swoop bike.

"It looks like we have a survivor, Sergeant," the droid clipped, its robotic voice bouncing off the rocky mountainsides around them. "These pirates are nothing if not resilient."

Nira detected a hint of respect in the automated voice, quickly shrugging off the notion. She didn't like to think of droids possessing agency.

The pirate slowly clawed his way out from under the charred bike, the sounds he was making indicating it was a herculean task.

"Damned... hck... Imps..."

Nira came to a stop, watching with mild curiosity as the pirate brought himself up onto one knee.

"You've brought this entire mess on yourselves. If you hadn't ruined Zonju, we would have had no reason to come in and fix things here," she explained, knowing her rationalization would fall on deaf ears.

The pirate let out what could only have been a laugh, choked through a spit of blood onto the ground. "The Wreckjaw Syndicate was here long before your Empire replaced the last one, and we'll be here long after you're gone."

Nira aimed her pistol, and with a sharp crack, the pirate slumped to the ground.

"You need to check your sensors, X-3. I don't see any life here."

The droid stared blankly at the scene, its sensors whirring frantically.

As she turned to take another look around, Nira felt something odd. Her scanner still showed no movement, but she could swear she heard - or maybe just felt it? - a mild buzzing that continued to build in her mind.

Was it coming from that crumbling pillar?

The sooner she got out of here, the better.

"Do a final sweep of the area, X-3. Log anything interesting, and then let's get back to base," she barked, marching back to her speeder bike.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something alive in this ancient, dead, buried planet...

---

As any good second in command should, I followed the leader :) Sentinel_Brix had an awesome representation of scout troopers and 74-Z speeder bikes, and I wanted to build on that a bit more to show said troopers running down a swoop bike pirate (also very much inspired by the Jedi Academy level!)

I also wanted to work in a bit of the mystical dark force energy/ruins in the background. This was a fun build to get back into things as I'm in the midst of a big move, and I'd love to hear your feedback!