The operation was already botched, FUBAR was the Republic military term for it.
It was supposed to be a straightforward raid onto the thinly defended planet Kasi in the Tasi system, so named for its principal planet; both had been bombarded by meteors that left huge craters. Both were habitable, but hostile, but Kasi had an array of useful minerals and developed into a manufacturing concern while Tasi remained fairly useless, except as a communications array that helped boost communications from Tasi out to the wider galaxy -- the system was famous for its signal interferences, and Tasi was behind that cloud of gasses and other matter that created that anomaly while Kasi was outside it.
The mission was simple; take Tasi, cut off Kasi and take it without fear of Mandalorian reinforcement. Then they'd set up for a siege on Tasi, perhaps an invasion. IRSOG-37's job was to take over the primary communications and navigation facilities in Tasi, which involved navigational aids that helped prevent accidents in the debris fields around Kasi and allowed Kasi to communicate with the rest of the galaxy. Simple plan, except a task force of Mandalorian warships caught the Intruder's shuttles en route to the ice planet of Kasi.
Instead, now, they sat in a little shuttle, a Conductor
class hauler, while the laster bolts fired all around them-- the hits, here and there, shook the entire place. In a hot, low-lit little hold of a small shuttle, Zhiss was acutely aware that this little trash can couldn't take that many hits, and that their primary advantage in this plan, stealth, was utterly compromised. She glanced around at the other sweating faces, people huddled on benches in the hold, and knew that things were going badly -- if veteran soldiers were this upset...well, they were plugged into unit wide commo, she, as a Jedi, wasn't.
But she knew the feeling of things going wrong because her first mission as a Jedi, well her trial anyway, on her own was a similar cock-up, a botch operation that she'd gotten into because she didn't think through the situation. This time, she was going on the guidance of others, the Republic Military, who seemed to think this was a good gambit. She had no reason to think otherwise, but right now she was cursing the intelligence under her breath as much as any line grunt in IRSOG would, because that was where the botch was. Or it was purely bad luck, which was always a factor.
It took a measure of meditative exercise not to fidget in her restraints, but she managed to, even as the pilot in the cockpit, she couldn't see him, seemed to be fighting for dear life. She could taste that desperation in the air through the Force that told her what the soldiers weren't saying aloud, the ones who had access to the comm network internally.
She looked around to the other Jedi in the hold, as well as Sergeant Okoye, in charge of this shuttle; a pair of green eyes, one eye green and one cybernetic, eyes under a blindfold...yellow eyes, her padawan. That allowed her to compose herself, even as the craft shuddered again, this time more violently than the last.
"ATMOSPHERIC ALERT, ATMOSPHERIC ALERT!"
brayed the alarm, and Zhiss was quick to pull on her rebreather, just as everyone else was. There was a loud hissing even as the power flickered in the craft, and the emergency lights came on, bathing everyone in a glow of red light.
"That's done it,"
the cargo crew chief commented, "Engines are out."
Before anyone could respond, there was a lurching sound. There was an intake of breath, and one soldier in the group asked, "What the frak is that?"
It was one of the others that told him the bad news, "Tractor beam. The Mando boys want prisoners."
That was when Zhiss spoke up, albeit low; the Jedi, their padawans, Sergeant Okoye, they were all clustered in their spot near the rear of the cargo bay. "Sergeant,"
she asked, with her voice muffled by the breather unit strapped to her mouth and jaw, "what are our options here?"