Star Wars Intervention: Echoes in Eternity (An Original Trilogy Game; Always taking new players!!!)

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Hutt Caravel, in vacuum.

As the rain slackened and the stars came out into full view Taab's ear's popped slightly. His beskar'gam was fully taking over now as a sealed pressure suit. It gave him limited time to survive in exposure to total vacuum, so hopefully Sunri would be able to get something done in the engine room. Else Taab would have to find some alternate method of survival. He didn't worry much about that, he had around 20 minutes of usable atmo/pressure with which to come up with a solution to their current mess. Given how quickly events had unfolded since they boarded the caravel he doubted that the problem would persist that long.

A green flash exploded behind him, laser fire impacting the hull. That certainly was a more immediate problem than suffocation. There must be a fighter out there that didn't like where the caravel was going. Taab dropped to the deck (luckily for now the ship's artificial gravity was still working) and dropped the rangefinder on the left side of his bucket, scanning the area. Ah there it was, a single TIE fighter was following them out. Taab considered for a moment taking the TIE out, the concussion rocket affixed to his jetpack should still be able to fire and track a target, even in space. But the fighter was trying to get the ship to land, something which went along with Taab's own goals, so it was best left unmolested. Still he didn't want to be collateral damage in its next attack. He would have to be cautious.

The caarvel shuddered again. "That was no laser blast, something hit us," Taab muttered to himself. They were fully out atmo now and glancing about Taab could see they were in the midst of some sort of debris field. Chunks of metal, some large, some small, floated chaotically about the caravel. If any of them hit him at the right angle...well it would mean he was having a really bad day.

Looking forward now he saw that 387 meters distant was an old Bulwark class cruiser, its large forward hold gaping open. His rangefinder was still locked in the down position and so he magnified the view. Inside the hold were numerous beings, all in various states of "distress" was the word that came to mind. Probably something to do with the debris field that they fund themselves in. He could see some of them starting to stir now, which meant that even with the forward hold open, their atmospheric shields must still be up. That was where they needed to go then. get aboard, free the Mercs from the Caravel and then steal a ship or three and get back planetside. A good plan, simple and easy to remember*.

There was one problem though. How to get over there before the crew was fully alert again. Taab's jetpack was right out. It required oxygen to breath and thus was just dead weight in the vacuum of space. "Shab." There were times that Taab wished he had gone through the extra expense of a rocket pack, it would have still been operational. But he carried too much weight as it was, with his armor and his weapons. The jetpack gave him added mobility under most circumstances, and in a far lighter and easier to maintain package than did a rocketpack. No use crying about it now, it was what it was and he would have to live, or die, with his decision.

The Bulwark was too far away to use Taab's fibercord whip, he would need to get much much closer for it to do him any good. He supposed he could just throw himself at the open hatch and hope he didn't get pulverized by space borne debris. Even getting nudged by a piece while "flying" unpowered would knock him precipitously off course, a certain death sentence. "Call that plan Omega," he said to himself once again. It was obvious now that the Bulwark was the caravel's ultimate destination. What were they waiting for? Hopefully they would be brought aboard soon.

The lights out on the deck began to fade, much darker than they had even before when Taab had cut some of their power. It reminded him that Sunri was in what he hoped was the engine room. Maybe the kid could get the engines fired up for one last burst and get the caravel aboard ship. Either way the caravel had to get in and dock so that taab could really get to work. Until then he set up a countdown on his HUD and waited.

TAG: Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65, Sith-I-5

*OOC: Adapted from Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest

---

IC: Atin Taab
UIS Mines, 12 klicks outside the spaceport, Craci Prime.

Atin watched as Yav settled into the rear of the "appropriated" speeder van. He seemed, well not quite exhausted, but perhaps glad to be sitting down at long last.

"Turn us around and get us out of here. I want to be able to get a clean signal to call the others."

The young Mandalorian nodded, "Roger that sir." and speeder van pulled away from the curb, headed in the direction of the falling debris. "I put out a calls to the Captain, Major Jeth and Chief Taab," he used his father's rank instead of just reffering to him as his buir. "So far no response. Not sure if it is the interfernece or they are all unable to respond..." He let that thought trail off. The idea that in the midst of an invasion none of the three senior officers could respond was not something that Atin wanted to contemplate. Especially given that one of them was his father, and another was someone they were under contract to protect. Atin had a feeling that Buir (father) would have put those in the opposite order of importance, but Atin didn't think that way. He doubted he ever would.

Atin did his best to ignore those thoughts for now. Instead he drove as quickly as he could, swerving around the faint amounts of traffic in the street and determined to get some answers.

TAG: Sith again.

 

IC: Sunri Lasca
Hutt Caravel, Engine Room

Aside from the occasional thud of impacts, the engine room on the Caravel was fairly silent. Sunri was rooting through the room, looking for any sign of the controls for the engine. After all, if the designer of the Caravel had any sense, there should have been secondary controls down here, if only so the engineers (and where are the crew? he couldn't help but think) could make adjustments as needed. But, as he was looking for a console, the already quiet room got even quieter.

Sunri stopped looking around, and turned his head to the engine itself. There wasn't anything odd about the engine itself however. The blue lights didn't really change much. Sighing and shaking his head, Sunri decided he must have been imagining things. Still though, he looked up as he sighed...and his eyes widened slightly. For the roof was a different shade than the walls...a deep blue to be precise. That wasn't the problem however.

For he wasn't imagining the engine getting weaker. While it was an odd system, he could see that, as the engine got quieter, the circular blue part of the ceiling lost a slice. Then another. And another.

"Oh kriff," Sunri said, quickly returning to looking around the room, "the engine's dying on us!"

There was only two things that could mean. The first was that they were arriving at their destination, and the Caravel was slowing in order to land...on whatever was waiting for them. The other option, and the more likely one considering the continued dull thumps of impacts, was that something had damaged the power conduits. If that were the case, the Caravel might end up crushed by debris from whatever had blown up in orbit.

Not good...not good...not good...

He had to find the controls for the engine quick. Sunri had rebuilt a starfighter from scratch...surely he could reroute power from damaged conduits if needed. But he would need controls for that.

"Where are the kriffing consoles?!"


TAG: Bardan_Jusik , Sith-I-5 , Heavy Isotope

 

IC: Kannari Oshi
Spaceport Passenger Terminal, Customs Checkpoint, Craci Prime


Kannari’s thoughts were brought away from the faint sound of blaster fire as a loud warning klaxon suddenly filled the terminal building. A tense quiet fell over those assembled as they awaited the announcement.

PLEASE DO NOT BE ALARMED. SPACE DEBRIS IS FALLING INTO THIS QUADRANT-
You know, that is still fairly alarming
Shh! This is going out now.
Oh sith, I thought this was the read-thru.
Shuttup-shuttup-shuttup!
I’ll be quiet. Go on tell them. They won’t know I’m here. From ‘space debris’-
Hey, who are you?!
FOR THE COLONEL!!

“Space debris!?” Kannari thought, alarmed. What had happened out there? The sound of two successive blaster shots then echoed through the speakers throughout the terminal, quickly followed by the sound of two meaty thumps before the hailers finally fell silent. Kannari growled and looked around her; some of her fellow passenger looked at each other warily, unsure what was going on. Kannari’s pale gold eyes fell on the form of an ESPO guard, who signaled for two of his comrades to follow him. They quickly disappeared through the crowds. Something was definitely not right, and the tension in the customs area was starting to grow.

Suddenly the sound of blaster fire began anew. There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely clearer this time around. A few meters away, she spotted another of the ESPO guards having words with a storm trooper, who turned and pointed her out. She eyed the pair warily but the Cathar winced and instinctively ducked and shielded her face as two windows were suddenly blown inward with an almighty crash. The worried whispers of the bystanders were quickly replaced by screams and panic as the occupants were showered with shards of sharp glass. Many travelers started to bleed from cuts and lacerations, which only escalated the commotion within the terminal.

It was at that moment she remembered her client, Mr Niall. Kannari snapped her gaze back towards the line he had been in, but she could not see him anymore amidst the chaos. Growling out an old cathar curse, she pressed a button on her wrist communicator and brought it up to her mouth “Niall…Mr Niall?” She called into the device, a frown crossing her brow as all she could hear was a mixture of static and sheer panic coming through from the other side. “Mr Niall its Oshi…” she continued “…If you hear me, find a safe place to shelter, Keep head down. Will find you when I can. Keep communicator on” She finished with an authorative tone, hoping that if Niall could hear her instructions, he would understand just how serious she was about him sticking to them.

Standing back up, her eyes darted left and right, her body on alert, a natural response to this sort of threat. The ESPO and trooper quickened their pace towards her. The ESPO was issuing orders to the storm trooper and he wasn’t happy about it.

"I'm not your pet vornsk to give orders to, Mate."
"Just bring the fragging bus around."

The ESPO guard turned his back on the trooper then, striding purposely through the panicked crowds and stopped on the opposite side of the inspection table. "Miss Oshi? Lieutenant Barker. You trained as Coruscant Security Forces, right?" He did not wait for her to respond, "Ma'am, we find that we need your urgent assistance. If you are willing to help, I can read you in."

Kannari looked at the ESPO, she did not sense any deceit or falsehood around him. He had probably found out her history from the customs records. He wanted to help the people in the terminal, and Kannari wanted to help the people too. That had been one of the reasons she had signed up for the CSF. Though she would probably have been happier if she knew exactly the scale of the issue they were dealing with, she did not have the luxury of time to question the man. “Did not complete program but yes, this is true” she said to the ESPO guard over the noise. She gave a sharp nod of her head “Will help if I can”


TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Stormtroopers; Squad Three
Spaceport car park / Customs Checkpoint, Craci Prime


The report had come in from the car park check-point: some guy claiming to be ISB. Regularly, even Stormtrooper units would brush off such jokes as nothing more then a low life trying to make a quick buck. But now, with these resistance fighters, everything was a threat. The joke among the Stormtroopers now, a course, was the "Governor" line the man had tried to use. All of the Stormtroopers here, a regiment's worth, were not of the local garrison base, but of Acklay Squadron, which meant all the more it was funny: the Governor had no say in to what these Stormtroopers did other then what Hilick Soal allowed him to have.

So squad three was pushing themselves through crowds down the ramp; while most moved out of the out of fear, some were stupid enough to not move. The Emperor's will was not to be detoured and the ones that didn't move got a rude awakening to that fact. Being one of the patrol squads units within the spaceport and not assigned a check-point, Squad Three was one of the many squads able to respond to any request or emergency from Command or from a check-point within the spaceport. They were the nearest unit to the car park check-point when the call had come in.

Armed primarily with E-11 Blaster Rifles, two members carried DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifles while another one carried a T-21 Light Repeating Blaster. Being a spaceport, the focus would be on close quarters running blaster battles, in which the E-11 excelled at. But the squads were also ordered to carry some heavier firepower back up, just in case.

One of the E-11 troopers pointed a hand and finger out towards the man identified via the Stormtrooper helmet cam recordings as the squad rushed down the ramp, "There, Staff Sergeant!"

The Sergeant glanced back to the trooper, then followed his out-stretched hand, "Arm your weapons men!" the Staff Sergeant ordered, adding, "Four on the ramp! The rest with me!"

Both the DLT-19's and the T-21 stopped along the ramp, pushing people out of the way as they set up their weapons along the railing edge, with one E-11 trooper standing to their rear and moving people along as to not disrupt the three Stormtroopers. The last five Stormtroopers, all E-11s (including the Staff Sergeant), rushed down the ramp; as they rushed down the ramp, the Staff Sergeant pointed a armored glove and finer towards the man, "Halt! Your under arrest!" whether or not the man would obey the order as Staff Sergeant and his squad piled off of the ramp or not was a completely different story. The man had plenty of room to run before the Staff Sergeant had time to bring his weapons into stun range. The advantage, however, were the three troopers left on the ramp: they all had sights on the man and were ready to fire if given the order.


TAG Jedi General Gelderd

 

IC: Natalie Cunnings
Imperial Governor's Palace / Garrison Base, Craci Prime, Craci System


"Right," Cunnings said, rushing off; she tried to look not in a hurry, but her own heartbeat betrayed her anxious state as being on a real field mission with the Mercs she had attended to. She looked all around, trying to find the "four eyed alien". Finally, she found him...and her, that's right, SHE was with them! That blasted pro New Order ***** from Coruscant. If it was from Coruscant and said "New Order," she was like a drooling dog over a bone. Natalie hated her with every bone in her body and she had only worked with the woman for less then an hour. She wished that the Coruscant native would go back to Coruscant if she loved the New Order so much.

She slowed her walk, collected herself, and took a calming breath before entering within visual range of the Imperial nurse and the rest of Winterkill's crew.

She nodded to the Imperial nurse, putting the big fake smile that all women excelled at when they wanted to get into a cat fight and pull the other woman's hair out with all intent, "Excuse me love," Natalie said to the nurse, "Just a quick word to your good patients," she smiled, beaming that excellent made-for Hollywood I want to Sith you up woman smile, and turned to the four eyed alien. "Sir, your partner, Mr. Creed I believe, is in need of several tools he let you borrow. One of the nurses had a hover bed malfunction and he was kind enough to offer to fix it right away, instead of us having to call the base tech crew, which with base on high alert, some of the girls who work here are saying could take hours, since a hover bed is not critical to a patient's life. But, they should tell that to the patient...and the nurse," Natalie smiled, "I can take the tools to him now, as to free you up for medical attention?"


TAG Sith-I-5, greyjedi125, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Charlie Watertin
Light Corvette (imagine), hyperspace, en-route to Craci Prime


"It's suicide," Charlie protested; the bridge was empty, except for them, "If what Cook relayed to us is true from the news, then a whole SQUADRON of Imperial warships is just waiting for us! Not to mention the Espo Picket Fleet!"

"What is if mean when it comes to Cook?" Wa Yay replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What does it mean?" Charlie replied, throwing his arms up, "He's an Imperial Doctor, Wa, for crying out loud!"

"Former being the word you missed, Charles," Wa pointed out.

"Still has Imperial in his resume," Charlie replied.

"And you still have pirate in yours," Wa countered, "And I have Confederacy in mine. And Taller had Grand Republic in his, which turned into the Empire."

"We're going to rescue a kid Wa, a frack'n kid!"

"Excuse me? Do you mean the Captain?" Wa asked, her voice firm.

"You Hutt straight I do!" Charlie replied, "He's a kid! Some young, still wet behind the ears, Corellian KID! With Taller, we had a purpose Wa. We had a fight. We had a reason. With Lasso, what do we have? We're lucky that we don't have to wipe his butt, because he may forget!"

"We will stop this discussion immediately Deck Hand. Do you understand me?"

"What Wa, pull rank on me?" Charlie replied, "What are you going to do, push me out the air lock in hyperspace?"

"It's tempting right now, Charlies, really Sithing tempting. He's our Captain. Taller made him the Captain! If you don't respect Lasso, then at least respect the man that preceded him! Blast it Charles!"

"We're no better off without the Jod, then we were with them!" Charles replied, "And Taller is gone! Vacks is gone! Streets is on some frozen rock!"

"And we're still here though Charles!" Wa replied, grabbing the man by the shirt, "WE. ARE. STILL. HERE. What do you want us to do? Just give up? Split ranks and run? To where?" Wa stepped back, letting go of the Charles' shirt, "To where? We're wanted criminals wherever we go and bounties so high on our heads, even our own families would turn us in to get the credits! Taller, Vacks, Streets. They started it. We're here to finish it. Yea, Lasso may be young. But blast it Charles, Taller believed in him. Why can't you?"

"I don't know," Charlie said, "I just don't know."

Wa turned her head and looked out at the blue tunnel of hyperspace, "We're coming up on Craci Prime soon. Better get changed into that Stormtrooper armor down in the equipment bay. And Charles, if you wanted revenge against the Empire for not responding quick enough to the destruction of Talzon Space Colony...you'll have your chance. They'll be a whole lot of Imperials to shoot at above Craci Prime if this goes wrong. And if you can't do this for Lasso, then do it for the rest of them on that planet. It's not just Lasso down there. They're all Mercs."



TBC

 

OOC: Due to the extended Lasso posts, I’m writing anew, and doing some events out of order.

IC: Crewperson Mary Formal, Nurse Ulrike, Commander Yavscout, aboard the Luck’s Gamble, ILH-KK Citadel-class cruiser, and in a speeding speeder van, respectively
Location: Craci Prime


“Mercs come and go.” Ulrike was saying, explaining where she knew the grizzled Hangar Chief from. “He went, and I did not see him go.”

Mary listened politely, though for several moments know, she felt like she was going to explode.

It had been a while since they had heard from the Captain, ostensibly down there on the ground, looking for some amphibian, if she understood Ayres’ yelled description correctly; all the while she, harking back to a trilogy of fantasy movies she had quite liked, back on Cifre, was dying to shout with as much indignation as she could muster, “This is supposed to be a rescue! At least get on the frakking ship!”

“You alright there?” The nurse studied her companion’s face.

“Sorry.” Mary smiled sheepishly. “Must have tuned out there for a second.”

“Quagmire to Imotep, under fire! Under fire!” The Captain’s excited tones filled the cockpit.

“Now see, that’s what happens when you don’t get on the frakking ship.”

“Mary!”

“Well I’m sorry,” the blonde Arcateenian griped with a moody pout, “but this was supposed to be a rescue.”

“Take us closer to his position.”

“Where? Sensors are blind to pretty much everything, thanks to this dust and debris cloud. Couldn’t this Boras have gone missing next to a giant fan?”

Ulrike got on the commo-board. “Quagmire from Imotep, we are trying to locate you, but sensors are being blocked.”

Instead of Lasso’s voice coming back, they heard a fairly indistinct synthesized voice that came in over the comm: I repeat, this is Sunri Lasca’s fighter. Here to assist.

“Hello, Sunri Lasca’s fighter. Good to have you. If you want to do something useful, track that lartie that was just here. Over.”

“Hey, Ulrike, turn on the C-beams, aim them down at the ground.” Mary suggested suddenly.

The nurse sighed. “But then, whoever is shooting at the Captain, will see us, and shoot up at us too,” she explained patiently.

"Exactly." Mary smiled. There was evil intent in that expression.

It wasn’t long before Ulrike caught on. “Oh, I see what you are thinking.” She looked over the controls, and pressed the keys that would have a shaft of hard white light slamming down through the dust cloud, ostensibly to pick out friendlies, but easily seen by enemy tangoes too.

Ulrike smiled and nodded knowingly at the sound of small arms fire hitting their lower hull.

Phoom-Phoom-Phoom-Phoom-Phoom returned the sound of their ion cannon turrets in auto-blaster mode.

Both girls waited for a renewal of the small arms fire from the ground. Silence.

“Oh, that is positively anti-social!” Ulrike chuckled, high-fiving Mary, whose good palm was up waiting. “You know, this isn’t going too badly.”

"Yeah, it could be worse."

"Quagmire to Imotep!" Captain Lasso's harried voice came through the comm again, "Unknown source of sniper fire. One Rodian down KIA, one human down by my accord."

"It's worse."

"Moving across street, heading West, to apartment complex there. Trying to access roof-top. How do you copy, over?"

"Okay, he mentioned an apartment complex. I'm sure I saw one on the way here."

Ulrike sent back, "Hang in there, Boss. We will try to re-acquire you at the apartment complex. Over."

Wham-WHAM-WHAM echoed through the hull as something repeatedly slammed into the upper hull, startling the two Mercs and forcing the nose of the ship downwards, then twin green streaks of laser pounded down past the forward ports, followed by their sudden attacker, the red ion engines of an unusual-looking bent-winged TIE fighter accelerating ahead of them.

Phoom-Phoom-Phoom-Phoom-Phoom their ion cannon responded on their behalf, blue-white packets of highly-ionised plasma spraying after the Imperial fighter, just two catching its rear, but enough to arc electrical energy its dark hull.

Ulrike and Mary watched as the TIE tried to nose up, but it's manoeuvre turned into a slow, uncontrolled tumble which ended with it ploughing into a several story construction of dark windows and ferrocrete balconies, consuming half of it in a firestorm.

"Found the apartment complex. Ooh, sith!" Mary jinked the ship to starboard at the sound of proximity alarms, more green laser zipping past them. "We've got another TIE on us, and this one saw us taking down its friend."

The view outside blurred horizontally as she banked the Luck's Gamble away in a basic evasion tactic.

Ulrike brought her E-11 to bear. "The Captain is going to need help down there. Put me down as close to his position as you can when you next get a signal lock."

"In your dreams!" Formal snapped back. "You're not leaving me to fly the ship one-handed."

The nurse glared. "You'll do as you're told, I out-rank you."

"Not while I'm piloting the ship, you're don't. I'm in charge, and you're going fragging nowhere. Call the Commander."

"Yav?" The nurse furrowed her eyebrows at the suggestion. "But he's doing the kids."

"Well, let's hope not."

"Oh. You can be so crude sometimes."

* * * *
Speeder van - twin lane blacktop between UIS Mines and the town

Fields of Ebla grain, and other ground-effect vehicles, including some legitimately speeding emergency vehicles with their flashbars going like the clappers, whipped past on both sides as Atin poured on the speed.

The elf had a few tense seconds trying to get the metal clasp of his seat restraint docked into the receiving bit by his right hip, before the kid had to brake and he went through the frakkin' windshield.

"I put out calls to the Captain, Major Jeth and Chief Taab," Atin had reported crisply, like he was a proper soldier. "So far no response. Not sure if it is the interference or they are all unable to respond..."

"Uh-huh. Putcha seat belt on." Yav had managed, his choobie puckering nervously as he visualised them unwittingly slewing onto the route of a night-time pod race, and showing up Ody Mandrell, or one of those other stars.

"Safety from Imotep, what's your twenty?" came in over his wrist-com, drawing an instant smile of relief from the elf as he heard from at least one other Merc.

Flashing a grin at Atin, he brought his forearm up so he could talk to her. "I'm here with Scorch. We saw the stuff falling out the skies, and are on the way back into the city. What's the status with the others? Over."

"I'm aboard the ship, with Live Free and Chief Ayres, and we are taking fire."

Sydney Ayres? Yav shot a concerned glance at Atin, but the news got worse.

"Quagmire is on the ground near the Craci Regional Medical Centre, big tall drokking building, and reports that he is taking sniper fire. We are reading multiple tangoes close to his signal, but we cannot get to him. Over."

Yavscout could feel the adrenalin-soaked word welling up within his very being again: RESCUE.
"Okay, don't worry, we'll find him. Safety out." He looked out the front, braced himself and gritted his teeth, knowing he was going to regret saying this as the first buildings of the city, silhouetted against the brightening sky, loomed out of the horizon ahead of them. "Okay, ad'ika (kiddo). Ludicrous speed is authorised."

To the elf's initial dismay, the speeder van drifted sideways at high speed into a ninety degree right corner, accelerating as they lined up with the low-ceilinged tunnel now ahead of them.

Oh, this is going to be tighter than a Twinkie in a tailpipe

He was surprised that he still had the mental capacity to appreciate the architecture before they blasted into the open again down a wide tree-lined boulevard.
"Interesting how they made the columns look like thick legs. You don't expect to see something like that in the Corporate Sector."

Yav's attention was grabbed by a flourescent railgun round passing overhead, and he snatched a glance in the rearview mirror to see that the "tunnel" had been them blasting under a parked Self Propelled Heavy Artillery-Mass Driver cannon.

"Ooh." He wondered if the kid had even noticed.

Tag: Bardan_Jusik

 

OOG: Trying to switch over usernames so I don't get hit with accidentally violating the RPF posting policy. Its just easier to catch up all the posts in smaller posts then one big post. It makes reading easier.


IC: Ashii Nermani
Dawn, Outside the Imperial Palace, Coruscant


There was a stage in the background. Royal red rope, hung on decorative Imperial Period posts, fenced off the area. And several Coruscant Guard reinforced a local group of CSF traffic cops brought in. Behind the red tape, Ashii and dozens of other reporters waited, their holocam operators hastily adjusting lense focus.

"Okay hurry," Ashii said to her holocam operator, "Here he comes! Are we live?"

"Live in," the holocam operator held up three fingers as he looked through the view finder and had each finger fall in order, ""Three...two...one...GO!"

Ashii smiled for her viewers, "This is Ashii Nermani, reporting for the galaxy's number one news service, Imperial HoloVision! Here, in the crisp dawn hours of Coruscant, we wait in anxious thought---maybe even to some worry---as Grand Vizier Pestage brings us chilling news of a violent Rebel terrorist attack that has already killed thousands of innocents on Craci Prime in the Corporate Sector! Craci Prime, being so close to Imperial space, has presented a problem to the security of the Empire. Oh! Here he comes now, lets listen in!"

Sate Pestage, flanked by two red robbed Royal Guardsmen, climbed the stage and looked out among the reporters and others gathered, "Citizens of the Empire! Friends of the New Order! And doers of right and justice in the galaxy! I bring you news from the Outer Rim that shakes my soul with unimaginable vexation. That troubles my very thoughts as I speak to you now. Our friends---our allies---in the Corporate Sector have come under a severe attack lead by terrorist forces that operate under the banner of the vile and sinister Rebel Alliance! A little over two hours ago, an Imperial naval detachment, under secret orders from Imperial High Command itself, arrived at Craci Prime to stop a suspected Rebel terrorist shipping operation and plot to kill a high ranking political figure of the Corporate Sector. While their mission was successful, the Rebel terrorists were prepared in ways we did not imagine a sane, upright, and justified human being could act! They killed several Corporate Sector police officers and high-jacked a defense station on the planet. In an attempt to destroy the peace the Emperor has fought so hard to bring to this galaxy, they fired on a Corporate Sector warship assisting Imperial forces over Craci Prime!

"The warship, damaged and unable to control itself any longer, crashed into the planet! Thousands of civilians---mothers, children, the elderly---have been reported missing or worse, dead! Thousands more injured! Then, these terrorists took up arms within the Craci Prime capital and started shooting civilians! They shouted, 'For the Colonel!" Who is this Colonel you ask? He is the man that authorized the bombing of Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center moments before his death at the hands of Imperial special operations commandos! A civilian hospital! Thousands have been reported dead or injured in the bombing! Even more, two Rebel terrorist suicide bombers blew themselves up in the emergency department, killing several and injuring many more in the hospital! Furthermore, the Corporate Sector civilian government is in chaos on Craci Prime and what law enforcement that can be provided in a meaningful manner---in which these terrorists have not bombed out their local police stations or killed their local police comrades---are being supported by Stormtrooper and Imperial Army detachments. Lastly, reports are being confirmed that organized Rebel terrorist attacks involving rockets, grenades, and even tanks in some cases have been spreading across the peaceful world of Craci Prime, targeted against Corporate Sector government buildings and Imperial holdings.

"Why are these Rebel terrorists doing this you ask? According to this Colonel, because anyone who supports the Empire is an enemy! Rebel terrorists are killing civilians because you love peace and justice and order! They are killing innocents---are killing CHILDREN---because you---the Imperial citizen and my dear friends---want something better for your families and for your children and for your loved ones! The Rebel terrorists have fed us lies about how they love freedom and love doing good. Is good, my beloved Imperial citizens, killing of innocents? Is good, my friends of the New Order, killing children? Is good, doers of right and justice in the galaxy, firing on a Corporate Sector warship and causing it to crash into planet, killing thousands of innocents? Is that good? Is that what you want for your children and your families and your loved ones?

"The Emperor, when awoken early in the Coruscant morning hours to hear of this sad and terrible news, ordered immediately all necessary military assets to be brought to Craci Prime to crush this Rebel terrorist attack. Furthermore, the Emperor ordered all hospitals in the Outer Rim region near Craci Prime to be ready to receive wounded children and others who cannot care for themselves, so as they may be cared for in safety away from this unthinkable terrorist attack. Lastly, the Emperor has ordered all available Imperial military emergency medical service personnel---and all necessary equipment, supplies, and food for the displaced and hurting---to be available for immediate departure to Craci Prime to help the wounded and dying and bring comfort and care to those who have none right now.

"In light of this devastating news, in which the Emperor weeps now in solitude in the Imperial Palace behind me for those children and innocents killed in this terrorist attack, the Emperor has declared Craci Prime under the temporary protection of the Galactic Empire, as for Craci Prime to be put under Imperial Martial Law, until such a time that Rebel terrorists can be identified, captured, and removed from Craci Prime and that a stable Corporate Sector law enforcement and civilian government can once again reign peacefully on Craci Prime. With such a large and deadly threat so close to our own boarders, the Emperor refuses to allow any Imperial citizens to become endangered by this tragic turn of events in the Corporate Sector and has authorized the Imperial military to practice due diligence before handing Craci Prime back over to the Corporate Sector for peaceful law enforcement and civilian government operations. As of several minutes ago, leaders of the Corporate Sector have approved and do support the Emperor's measures to bring a quick, justified, and in-depth response to this terrible, unimaginable, and in-human Rebel terrorist act on Craci Prime.

"Thank you for your time. Please, keep those that are hurting----those that are in need---on Craci Prime in your thoughts and prayers. When more information becomes available, we will let you know. Thank you."

A series of shouted questions from the reports chased after Sate Pestage as the man retreated from the stage, the two Imperial Royal Guardsmen following him...


TAG ALL (if wanted to)

 

Mahaben
Ruined Buildings, near ‘Downtown’ Craci

Another sudden an violent death. A life winked out in a blink of an eye, not unlike so many more taking place in the space of time. Normally, this would not be significant, as the blind miraluka was far too used to feeling such things, to the point of becoming inured to such occurrences. What was significant, was the simple fact that the death occurred right next to Captain Lasso.

Whoever the shooter was clearly did not intend to kill the captain right off. There was something more sinister going on.

The ex-jedi sensed as the captain defended himself and went off running. All around them, enemies converged, like a hand closing. Mahaben opened himself momentarily to the force from behind a large metal barrier which had been part of a ship. It took him but a moment to feel and see the auras, to feel the tide of battle. So much was going on, but he focused on events surrounding the captain.

Using Farsight to have a better understanding of the overall situation, Mahaben saw the images of the various groups of enemies leveled against them. Theirs was a focused and concentrated campaign and Lasso was heading into a trap, which meant, the situation necessitated a response in equal measure.

Still, there were many layers to the veils of deception present and it would take far too long to penetrate them all, for by then it might be too late.

Thus in his his vision, which occurred in a mere moment, the blind miraluka saw the following:

Without an moments hesitation, Mahaben went into action once again.

Lasso had become the focus of the hunt.

Running and leaping from mound to building to roof top in bounds, the ex-jedi moved with the aid of the Force. With most everyone’s attention on Lasso, he was able to gain purchase on the roofs and mounds of destroyed buildings along the path in which the captain ran along. In an instant he saw his trajectory and launched himself like a rocket.

His blue lightsaber came to life as he streaked through the air.

A trooper just happened to turn this head to see the form of what looked like a blind folded Jedi flying directly at him. Before he could even react, Mahaben landed inside the airborn LAAT and unleashed a powerful Force Repulse with his telekinetic ability. The Latrie was crowded with troopers and whoever was not holding on properly or was tethered via secure line, was immediately jettisoned from the flying vehicle; more over, the attack was a total surprise, and before any one could even understand what was going on, Mahaben’s blue lightsaber began to streak in patterns at the remaining occupants.

With superior balance and grace, Mahaben held the center and expanded his circle of control. Once those closest to him were dispatched, that’s when force push and force stasis combination rained on other troopers. Not all of them could fire on him at once and those who did would have their shots reflected back. To let go of a hand hold would be a terrible mistake, for the ex-jedi would know it. To shoot one handed meant poor accuracy and possible ‘friendly’ fire. Those who were secured in place stood a better chance of survival.

Nearly half of the latrie was quickly dealt with, and now it was the second half’s turn.

Mahaben knew of the other ‘presence’ aboard the flying vehicle, the umbaran. Everyone on the ground, all those chasing the captain and threatening the Luck’s Gamble, all of them were following the orders which came from the head, from this umbaran. These troopers were mere pawns. This was a trap. If he eliminated the head, well then, the rest was elementary.

The time of the jedi order was over.

To survive these dark times, one had to become something more…decisive.

A stun bolt was fired and it met with mahaben’s blue aura, which harmlessly dissipated the effect. These ‘soldiers’ were not understanding their situation, their will was no longer theirs as they could no longer reason for themselves, but obediently follow their programming without question. Tragic beyond words.

Mahaben flicked his hand and the trooper flew out of the holding chamber, his secure line snapping behind him, but he managed to find purchase as he held on with one hand to the edge of the door, his weapon dropping into the vast space between the vehicle and the ground below, as it disappeared from sight.

Mahaben stood his ground, lightsaber lit and in hand. The poor trooper called for help, not just to his comrades, but for anyone to assist him and save him from certain doom.

And so, the blind miraluka paused, ready to react to any threat leveled at his person, as he wondered if these men were so far gone, so dead inside, that they would truly let one of their own men die for the sake of simply following ‘orders’.

“Your move…” he said plainly.

If that was the case, then he would have no regrets with what came next.

Almost as if on cue, the sound of the passing latrie heralded its proximity. Mahaben nodded to himself, understanding that the longer he waited, the greater the chance there was for events to change. Calling upon the force, he moved, faster than a normal eye could track, and gave chase to the latrie and to fulfill the events he had just witnessed.

Tag: @Intervention, @Bravo


OOG: @Bravo. I think these are the guys you said were protected from harm, etc. So I modified my post to a showcase a ‘possible’ course of action. If it doesn’t conflict with your plans, use it as you as is. If it does, then modify at will, since it hasn’t actually happened. PM me if necessary. Loving it all so far.

 

IC: Havah Jeth / Tiaca
Medbay of Imperial Governor's Palace / Garrison, Craci Prime, Craci System

When a nurse surprised him he had to silently squeeze his eyes shut in vexation at the situation he was in. With all these medical people buzzing about he could not properly track what or who was coming up upon him. Whether a medical personal or droid passing by, or as this one, stopping to actually disturb him. Still she seemed to have that plastered quality of someone treating you not out of the goodness of their heart, but more from forced need to do so.

It didn't bother him either way, he had been taught long ago to expect such treatment if ever away from a proper Arkanian facility. At least he didn't have to worry about a genetic work up as part of his initial intake here. Small mercies.

Nodding his agreement he and Tiaca followed her to the back where she placed himself and Tiaca in a small, but more private space. Then she had the tenacity to tell him to 'pop up' onto the bed. Grunting slightly to be in caracter and largely out of the pain of the action he complied and sat upright with his legs off the side of the bed. Using both arms to lift himself back he was in a fair bit of pain from the action and his blaster wound of a black circle was exposed. How she reacted next would be telling.

Only she didn't react next, instead another Nurse burst in. For a moment he thought of how hard it would be to silently kill both of them and than blast their way out of here? Than the moment of recognition dawned and he knew he shouldn't kill her. He could, but she was an friend of the Mercs even if she left them. So for now, he set aside his desire to simply purge the place. Especially after she said she came from someone about needing tools from him.

So, Winterkill had found a friend and a terminal. Reaching out he took the case from Tiaca who had followed closely behind him. "My associate has them, but if you can return after taking her and assist me. I would be appreciative, as would my son Pic." Whether she would pick up on what he was hinting at, he was uncertain. Still he waved had Tiaca to go with her, but she stayed firmly planted.

"Sir, I am to protect you."

"Bloody Echani!" He barked back, "Just go and return after, who will harm me in the second most secure room in the Garrison?"

"They shot you already in the Garrison." she replied with a pointed gaze.

Raising his hand to cover it as though that settled the matter he waved with his other hand that held the case, "It won't be held against you. Leave, come back with the tech when he is done."

With a glare she turned sharply and moved toward the newest nurse, "Show me."

TAG: Bravo, Intervention, Sith-I-5,

 

IC: Natalie Cunnings
Imperial Governor's Palace / Garrison Base, Craci Prime, Craci System


The walk back with the female was less then enjoyable; whoever she was---and whoever the four eyed alien was---they were new to the Mercs. Assuming Winterkill worked for the Mercs anymore. The longer the excitement pumping field assignment went on, the more doubt and uncertainty started to creep into her mind. But Natalie pushed those from her mind and focused until she arrived back to Winterkill.

"Mr. Creed," she said, "Here are your tools."


TAG greyjedi125, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Storm Commando; Commander Top
Ocean, Craci Prime, Craci System


Top watched from the confines of the AT-AT Swimmer's cockpit the as the MC30c frigate burst through the ocean waves of Craci Prime and rocketed towards outer space. The only thing stopping the MC30c from reaching freedom was the lone Victory-class Star Destroyer of Acklay Squadron. And Top knew that the Star Destroyer's command crew was extremely loyal to Hilick Soal for an extremely good reason. So, a show at stopping the frigate would be shown, but the Victory would let the frigate go, passing on into the safety of hyperspace.

Holo recordings would be capturing the "Rebel Alliance" MC30c rocketing free of the planet, the last sign of "evidence" that the Rebel Alliance truly had a presence on Craci Prime. In the story, it contained the Rebel Alliance's commanders for the Craci Prime operation, trying to flee the planet once an increased Imperial presence had entered the star system; in truth, Acklay Squadron had just arrived in system over Top's communications with Command, but by the time they reached Craci Prime, the MC30c would be long gone, blasting it's way through hyperspace. In reality, the MC30c contained all the stolen Imperial weaponry, equipment, and supplies Hilick's squadrons had captured and stored on Craci Prime via the now dead mercenaries. The ship would be the first major starting point for Hilick's plans.

Top turned back to the secret underwater base and watched the planted explosives due their work, the base imploding under water. Top lingered there for a long moment, watching the debris sink to the ocean floor and cover their tracks, and then turned to the ATAT Swimmer pilot.

"Okay," Top said, "Time to head home."


NO TAG

 

IC: Espo Lieutenant Barker (nrc), Customs Processing Area, Craci Prime Spaceport
Location: Craci Prime


The lieutenant waited anxiously, as the Cathar before him observed him anxiously, and no wonder, the way that she had been treated by that idiot of stormtrooper.

It wasn’t that Barker was particularly sympathetic to the plight of non-humans, or cat people, the two forces just had two different agenda.

Security Police existed to enforce the will of the Corporate Sector Authority, while stormtroopers existed to enforce the High Human ideal, or whatever it was called.

“Did not complete program but yes, this is true.” The passenger admitted at length. She gave a sharp nod of her head “Will help if I can.”

“Good.” Barker returned her nod. “Right, there has been a ship explosion in orbit, and there is debris raining down, which we are trying to deal with, but some stuff will get through. It is inevitable.” He waved around the terminal. “Being an Imperial-class spaceport, one of our defences is to lower the entire passenger terminal into the reinforced bunker area beneath us, till the bombardment is over, however, the controls to facilitate that is in the area where that ‘for the Colonel’ terrorist is, and he is proving quite adept at keeping our forces from re-taking that area.”

He paused to let the Cathar get a word in edgeways, then opened his mouth to continue, but his first words were drowned out by the shattering, crashing sound from elsewhere in the facility, along with distant screams from outside the passenger processing section.

Barker unfolded a white square of crumpled flimsi, placed it on the table between them, and used the heel of one hand to iron out the material.

It showed, in crude blue stylus, several circles, indicating the parts of the spaceport catering to the personal and smaller docked starships, an oblong representing the terminal in which they stood, and two larger parallel rectangles at the other end of the spaceport.
“See these two big areas?” He placed a finger on the two rectangles. “Dry docks to cater for ships the scale of Venator-class star destroyers. They are covered, and tough enough to withstand most bombardment. If we cannot sink the terminal, Plan B is to deputise yourself, and for you to take charge of the passengers, get as many of them onto the bus that your mate,” here, he referred to the stormtrooper who had interviewed her, “is bringing round, and take them to one of these dry docks. What do you say?”

Barker looked at Oshi, waiting for her to speak.

Tag: Jedi_padawan_leigh

---

IC: Espo patrolman Thierry, GMA-0113 (“Gamma”), Spaceport Terminal Administration Area

The Espo hugged the corner of the corridor wall, staying clear of “Death Alley” several inches to his left, recently redecorated with carbon burns, laser craters, and bloody gobbets of Security Police.

“Frag!” Was his first word, just before a turbolift pinged to his right, and the squad of stormtroopers recently recalled from the carpark clattered up to his position.

“Sit-rep?” Asked the first one, using the common abbreviated term for “situation report”.

The policeman wiped a blood smear from his own polarised visor, not really making any improvement, and looked into the stormtrooper’s black eye lenses.
“Well, actions speak louder than words; have a look round there.” He nodded to the corner.

“Funny.” The Imperial sounded un-amused. “We were in pursuit of two female terrorists when we were recalled to assist you, so cut the phobium, and answer the drokking question.”

“Sorry. Okay, we have one tango in the control room-”

“One? One man?”

“One heavily armed man.” Thierry felt his ears go hot with embarrassment under his helmet. “Look, I’m sure we could extract him ourselves, given enough time to get a tactical team here, but given that we have burning projectiles falling out of the sky on top of us, we attempted to expedite matters a bit. And that just isn’t working out for us.”

The stormtrooper sighed. So many years as a Desert Terrain sandtrooper, then elevated to the red-robed Royal Guard assigned to Hillick Soal and his Red Rock Squadron, and now that Soal was important enough following that black hole fiasco to replace his Royal Guard protection force with common Imperial Navy Troopers, Gamma was back in the ‘whites’, wet-nursing incompetent Espo forces.

He looked over the damage pitting the visible surfaces, recognising the effect of a T-21 light repeating blaster. He had used one himself, so many times.

“Well, if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.” Gamma looked back at his squad. “Lock and load, Guys.”

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Atin Taab
Speeding through the streets of Craci prime

Atin suppressed a yelp and contented himself with just a osik-eating grin as he accelerated the speeder van around a bright yellow sportspeeder. He was in his element now as he poured on the speed and cut the van hard over just missing a parked delivery speeder parked at the street's edge. He had piloted his fair share of getaway vehicles during his time training under buir (father) and he always loved the rush of adrenaline it brought with it. The only thing better was being behind the controls of a starfighter.

"Putcha seat belt on."

Atin's grin grew even larger, though the elf would never see it behind his faceplate. It seemed the being wasn't as...enthusiastic, about their high speed egress as the Mandalorian was. He chuckled to himself, Yav hadn't seen anything yet. With all of his attention on the pavement, and keeping the pair of Mercs from becoming a part of it, he missed the grin and opening communication that the Commander received. But what he did hear only caused him to mash down on the accelerator harder.

"Quagmire is on the ground near the Craci Regional Medical Centre, big tall drokking building, and reports that he is taking sniper fire. We are reading multiple tangoes close to his signal, but we cannot get to him. Over." Not good, and still no word on where buir was. If the Skipper was under fire, the security chief should be with him, or at least mounting a rescue. Instead though there was no mention of the elder Mandalorian.

"Okay, ad'ika (kiddo). Ludicrous speed is authorised."

Atin didn't need to be told twice as he now threw caution to the wind (of course Yav might not notice the distinction). He sent them careening around a blind 90 degree corner, more hoping than knowing, that the way ahead would be clear. "Oh." he muttered under his breath seeing that this wasn't quite the case. An old relic from the Clone Wars (buir would have been upset that Atin couldn't identify it right away), some self propelled arty piece was blocking their way.

There was no time to slow down, no chance that they could really avoid it as it took up the entire street ahead. Their only chance was to hope that they had the clearance underneath it to drive in between its massive legs without getting caught underfoot. Atin now let out that whoop, though it was muffled by his bucket, and pushed the engines even harder. The van screamed under the SPHA (the designation coming to Atin suddenly) and shot out the other side.

"Interesting how they made the columns look like thick legs. You don't expect to see something like that in the Corporate Sector." The sky above them suddenly glowed with the shot from the SPHA's main gun. "ooh". Atin almost laughed to himself now. This was fun, and if the Capatin's life wasn't in danger he may have allowed himself to really enjoy it. Of course another question loomed even larger in the back of Atin's mind as they quickly made their way towards the CRMC. Just where was buir....

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Winterkill (as Ezzio Creed)
Governor’s Palace, Garrison Base, medlad, Craci Prime

“Mr.Creed,” a voice came from behind, but he'd heard their footsteps already. It took a great deal of will power not to simply turn around and just continue the appearance of normalcy and vulnerability. So, he waited for the proper ‘cue’, then turned.

“Here are your tools.”

The nagai looked from the nurse, to the alien body guard, then back to the nurse. He noticed the uncertainty in the nurse's eyes, even though she tried her best to mask it.

“Thank you nurse, you’re doing a good thing. We certainly appreciate it.”

With that, he gave the nurse a firm nod, indicating that her services had come to an end, at least for the moment. Patiently, he waited until she got his meaning, and once she had moved out of earshot, he regarded the disguised Tiaca.

When he spoke next, he did so in a low voice.

“There’s a screen a few paces away. I shall go retrieve it. You can look over the terminal as I go. I’ll come over and cover us once I have it.”

The nagai offered a slight nod, but didn’t really wait for a response as he walked over to the nearby screen. He also took the opportunity to see what ‘eyes’ were on them, if any. He acted as normal as any ‘maintenance personnel’ would. But these were strange times and one could never be too careful.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto, @Intervention

 

IC: Staff Nurse Bakewell, ISB Stormtrooper Hastings, Governor Audit, Imperial Garrison medical bay, and Imperial Shuttle, respectively
Location: Craci Prime


Bakewell had excused herself from the private room soon after that Alderaanian nurse, Cunnings, had come in.

Despite the big sith-eating grin the other medic had shown upon seeing her, Bakewell knew that Cunnings hated her with her entire being.

Was it her fault that Cunnings' homeworld had been packed with traitors and rebel sympathisers, and destroyed? No!

Still, a whole frakking planet - Bakewell made a mental note to wash her own mouth out with soap; the New Order wasn't keen on its femmes swearing, even in thought - even she had the empathy not to get all up in Cunnings' grille over it....whatever a grille was.

Anyway, the refugee nurse was not the reason that Bakewell was off to the medicine stores. She had spotted that her earlier identification of the main BoSS alien as four-armed, had been erroneous, so she was off to prescribe herself a dipill.

If she was having hallucinations, she would not be able to do her job.

By the door, which the ISB stormtrooper felt he should guard, by dint of being a stormtrooper, more than anything else.

He had heard over his helmet comlink that the Governor and his "family" - what family? - had lifted away in a shuttle, so that was good.

He had holo-footage around the garrison being delivered to his in-helmet HUD from a small batch of droids he controlled.

Unlike known Rebel operations, the terrorists were making no attempt to gather intelligence, seeking access to files, computers, or droids. They were just shooting and destroying. That...that was interesting.

Low-angled live footage from the landing pad showed the underside of the shuttle as it ascended into the dawning sky, corroborating the report over his comlink, followed by horizontal streaks of laser fire which dropped the Imperial garrison guards that had protected the shuttle while it had been parked.

A camouflaged resistance fighter, lugging the grey cylinder of a projectile launcher, ran into view from the left, blithely ignoring the R2 unit which Hastings was using to survey the area.

The terrorist was lifting the launcher to his shoulder, sighting the departing Sentinel, unhindered by guards, and unseen by the TIE Advances dropping behind it.

Hastings issued a verbal order to the astromech. "Execute."

The droid's own audio receptors registered and relayed the pfft of compressed gas, as the toxic dart speared the terrorist's thigh, the man looking down, looking at the droid, then, eyes glazing, toppling over like a felled tree.

"Timber." Hastings allowed himself a smile behind his faceplate. Fragging amateurs.

* * * *
Sentinel-class landing craft


Audit and his "family" huddled together on three seats to the left of the aisle, the governor putting his forearm behind the woman's head to bring it close to his, so he could whisper to the Cook, which the lieutenant's men had clearly found within his quarters, and just swept them up without asking who the drokk they were.

"Just go along with it," he whispered to her, seeing that the young Craci local who acted as his butler and personal assistant, was listening in too. "We don't want to embarass the poor sod, do we. I'll fill in Annelli when we pick her up."

"I understand, Governor." Cook assured him.

Audit pressed his lips together in irritation, and made a show of hugging her around the shoulders. He loved her cuisine, and liked the way she braided her blonde hair and somehow fixed it round her head, but nothing more. "Yes, less of that till we get aboard the Darkest Night. Call me 'Dear' or 'Sweetie' or something."

"Oh, I could not do that!"

"Try."

"Ooh, look!" Cook pointed a finger past his nose to the porthole-style window to his immediate left.

"Yesss, window."

"No, outside, Gover-...I mean, Sweetie. Isn't that your daughter?"

Audit snapped his head round, spotting, a hundred metres off their left wing, a Low Altitude Assault Transport, heading the other way, little Annelli seated inside the open passenger bay, her long dark hair fluttering in the jet stream, while her sand panther had its head poking out to get the full effect in that way that some dogs in cars do. Beyond them, the silhouette of a seated stormtrooper.

The craft quickly disappeared from view despite his hurried turning in the seat to look behind the Sentinel.

"Oh for feth's sake, couldn't Callahan at least close the sides?" Audit stopped himself grouching to call loudly towards the cockpit, "I say, pilot?! Follow that lartie!"

Tag: Intervention, Mitth_Fisto (Jeth)

 

IC: Hutt Caravel - Engine Caravel
Location: low Craci Prime orbit

The new Merc within the engine room looked round, "Where are the kriffing consoles?!"

The room listened to the query without comment, but said nothing.

However, with the last word, "consoles", part of the rounded wall extruded an angled black control panel of the same material as the wall, covered with half a dozen rubberised blue buttons, three up, three down, marked in glowing golden Sharu calligraphy.

Someone, somewhere, had a sense of humour.

Skywalker_T-65

---

IC: Communications Officer Buddie Cool (nrc), Dep S command deck.
Location: low Craci Prime orbit

The captured femmes' message was clear as she sliced up the clothing with her knife, while staring into the lens, and the rodian seethed silently at the act of vandalism and defiance.

Well, no matter.

It was no coincidence that they had her exact sizes. Onboard systems had laser-measured her proportions while she slept, and fabrication units in one of the rooms adjacent to the main salon where she was, a former servants cabin, had built the bikini and skirts on the journey up here.

He would have another outfit made for her and deposited in the centre of her area...no. He smiled at a new idea. Why stop there? He would have twenty-three outfits made for her, he would drown her in outfits, she could cut them up till her atmo ran out for all he cared.

Buddie looked down, looking for the correct button to restart the fabricator, and pressed it.

ERROR - INSUFFICIENT POWER flashed up.

Well, jactna, he thought, using a common Rodian expletive.

He transmitted his voice over to her again, "Nice going. I should probably apprise you of your situation. Your caravel is in space, and with limited power and air. My ship has plenty of both. However, we have a bare legs policy for our female... guests." He paused to savour the sort of sith he could make up on the fly, "Now, I'm going for a wander." See what is going on with the rest of my ship. " I shall look in, and see how you have decided, assuming you haven't already axphyxiated, when I get back. Ciao."

Buddie rose from the seat without further preamble, wished he hadn't when reminded of his injured ankle, but heck, he was up now.

He hobbled over to the bridge doors, and went to visit Medical. And he would have to make sure the slave level, under the hangar, was secure. No sense bringing her aboard, if all the other girls they had captured, had gotten free.

Buddie brightened slightly as he headed to the turbolifts. If he got them all to market on Craci Two, received the badly needed revenue for SPAGETTI's cause, he could be a hero.

Tag: Heavy Isotope, Beskaryc Taab

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Hutt Caravel

The circuitry was getting her nowhere, the outer door was still closed and the force shields didn't seem like they could be deactivated from here. "Nice going," that annoying voice was back on the speakers again, "I should probably apprise you of your situation. Your caravel is in space," great, Masha thought, "and with limited power and air. My ship has plenty of both. However, we have a bare legs policy for our female... guests." The voice paused, clearly alien, unless he was using a modulator to hide his identity... "Now, I'm going for a wander. I shall look in, and see how you have decided, assuming you haven't already asphyxiated when I get back. Ciao."

Masha stopped, her heart sank, space.... It's a good thing her inexperience with circuitry prevented her from opening the doors, if that was truly the case. How do I know I'm not already on his ship, she thought, better safe than sorry, although.... Standing up once again, kicking the under piece of the outfit across the room as she casually walked to the wall opposite the lens. Lean back, calm, poker face, she thought. And hers was good. Years of habitual disdain of other people gave her a default look of someone that is either unamused or ready to kick your teeth in, or both...

Leaning back against the wall and placing her left foot back against it as well, she produced a flat rectangular case from her jacket's inside pocket, opening the case and taking out a cigarette. Masha then stowed the case in a smooth motion, taking out her brushed steel lighter, flipping it open with deliberate finesse she snapped her fingers at the flint and ignited it. Lighting her cigarette and staring defiantly into the camera before stowing her lighter away. Masha was always good at hiding her emotions, but her gut was still sinking at wondering where the others were; If anyone's coming for me they better get their rear in gear... she thought. Fear was growing inside her, though her anger at the situation made it easier to handle, the smoking helped as well.

Masha sighed with annoyance before taking another drag. Her thoughts drifted a bit as she stared into the lens, Sunri and Taab, I wish you were here.... that old song she knew came to mind, the one from her dream. Placing her free hand in her jacket pocket, she might as well be in a nice mountain getaway by the look of her, but her eyes behind the smoke gave off a different impression; whoever owns that voice is going to die, she thought as the anger inside made her stomach tighten.

TAGS: Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik, Skywalker_T-65

 

IC: Sunri Lasca
Caravel Engine Room

Unsurprisingly, there wasn't a vocalized answer to Sunri's frustrated shout. He did, however, hear the sound of something mechanical. Specifically, a console/control panel coming out of the wall. While it made Sunri seriously confused with whoever designed this ship, at least it was something to work with. He ran over to the panel and was ready to start making adjustments to the engine when...

"What?"

...he noticed that the labeling was written in some language he had never seen. It was like whoever built the Caravel was deliberately trying to annoy him. Or else were extremely paranoid of someone getting down here and taking control. Yeah, it was probably the first option.

Shaking his head, Sunri looked at the panel. While he couldn't make heads-or-tails of the writing, there were six buttons. Of course, he had no idea what said buttons actually did. For all the pilot knew, he could press one and blow the engine out into to space, in some stupid 'use the engine as a bomb' system. Or he could activate the self-destruct. Neither was particularly appealing.

Okay...which one gets us moving again...

Staring at the thing wasn't going to get anything done. He had to make a choice. So taking a deep breath, Sunri took one last look at the console...before trusting in his instincts and pressing one of the buttons...


TAG: Sith-I-5 , Bardan_Jusik , Heavy Isotope


OOC: Yes, I couldn't resist ribbing Star Trek's warp core ejection system

 

IC: Nurse Ulrike, Crewperson Mary Formal, Luck’s Gamble
Location: Craci Prime skies over the town


The Merc cruiser jinked to the right as it flew from the remaining TIE advance, more to avoid the dark column of the Craci Regional Medical Centre, or whatever it was called today, as it loomed up ahead of them, twin streams of green laser zasshing past to their left to gouge a horizontal slash across the hospital’s surface, while the Luck’s Gamble nipped round the great column.

Inside, Ulrike wanted to stand to tower over her companion, to bring her height to the argument, but while the vessel’s acceleration compensator should keep her from falling as Formal threw it into basic evasive manoeuvres, but that fact that she had a good view out the forward windows, meant she risked bringing her last meal, and Mary’s, since she’d basically eaten hers’ too, up all over herself, Mary, and the controls – it’d be like using a liquidiser without putting the lid on first.

“You cannot ask me to sit by while another Merc is in danger,” She argued, “you just can’t.”

“Watch me.” Mary challenged, secretly amazed that supposedly professional TIE fighter pilots, plural because there were other TIE’s angling in to join the chase, were being stymied by the simple dodges that she had learned in the simulators.

Ulrike stared blankly for a second, recalling the initial objection. “Hang on, this is over you not wanting to fly one-handed without assistance, isn’t it? Well, don't you worry, I'll get someone to babysit while I'm out.”

She rose this time, turning from the windows to save herself from getting dis-oriented, and walked quickly aft to where Ayres was seated, and with her hands on both sides of the open door frame, sort of leaned into the passenger area.

“Chief, you can fly, can’t you? We need you in the cockpit to help Mary out, while I go groundside to help out the Captain.”

Tag: Vehn

---

IC: Yavscout, Need For Speed: Craci
Location: Craci Imperial-class spaceport


Yav had an idea to find the others, but it would involve interrupting Atin as they hurtled through the roadways from the East end of the spaceport town, towards the SouthWest of the designated hospital region.

They had come across an Imperial checkpoint, consisting of stormtrooper standing in the middle of the road, brandishing an E-11.

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea,” the elf had muttered, shaking his head.

And now, he could see they had come upon the unlikely spectacle at the foot of the wide steps of the previously unencountered Craci Museum of Art, where two brown-coated porters were attempting to evacuate framed artwork across the street to a waiting hovervan with it’s cargo bay open at the back.

One worker was on the right pavement-cum-sidewalk, one was at the side of the waiting vehicle, and between them was the cross-legged form of a blond human female in Imperial naval grey tunic, red-and-blue rank bars, and an enticing flash of bare knee.

The elf’s eyes widened in unexpected recognition of the art subject’s face, and was too startled to advise the lad on his four options:
1. Left, high speed up the loading ramp into the back of the hovervan, which probably wouldn’t end well;
2. Right, mounting the pavement and mowing down a poor museum worker;
3. Just go straight, straight through the painting;
4. High-speed handbrake turn, and going back the other way.

“Duh…Deb…Debgate?” Yavscout stammered, mostly to himself.

Tag: Bardan_Jusik (Atin)

 

IC: Connor Harrison
Spaceport car park / Customs Checkpoint, Craci Prime

Connor froze in his tracks as the white armour of more Stormtroopers emerged amongst the crowds of people up ahead, and a small unit took position on the ramp coming down from the Spaceport itself. All were armed and looking directly towards where he stood. A good number of troopers continued to move towards him as what looked liked the leader of this unit, the Sergeant, pointed directly at him.

"Halt! Your under arrest!"

The tinny, monotone order crackled out from beneath the trooper's helmet. It was full of conviction and had a promise to the tone that this soldier was going to carry out his command without question.

E-11s were trained on him from the ramp. He looked to his left and saw a heavily armed trooper waiting for him. No escape. Whatever had been relayed to the foot-soldiers of the Emperor, he was their target now after stupidly trying to bluff his way out.

He raised his hands, and slowly turned to meet the clattering troops facing him, the ones who had called in back-up. He lolled his head forward, arms out, conveying a desperate man overwhelmed by the Empire. He waited for the fingers of the first trooper to touch his wrist before he bolted.

MUSIC -

Grabbing his arm, a lighting reflex, Connor pulled the trooper violently into him, using the momentum to wrap his arm around the troopers neck with his left arm, drawing a small sphere with his other from his belt, grasping it with his fingers.

"Alright hold it! One shot and I let the detonator off and I take down half the Spaceport and your men with me!" Connor tucked himself behind the wheezing trooper, his comrades shifting on their feet with blasters pointed directly at the madman.

The heavily armed troops on the ramp were the ones Connor kept his eye on, ready for a fleeting sniper shot or concussion grenade.

"I warned you I could kill you if I wanted to, you should have let me go - I'm not the one you want," he shouted to the Sergeant.

There was no response. This meant one of two things were happening if Connor's memory served him correctly - he was being lined up for a takedown shot or he was being flanked. There was only one safe way out of this.

Connor pulled the trooper back a few steps, squeezing his neck tighter under his white helmet, causing him to panic, trying to break free.

His eyes staying forward, Connor steadily began to go inwards into his memory in order to strike at his nervous system.

The heat from Tatooine's twin suns bore down on TZ-290, stationed in Mos Espa, with a small unit of fellow troopers in the garrison. He stood loose, a tight grip on his DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle, rocking gently under the burning heat. Stationed by Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina, the pocket of troops were simply another reminder to those in the galaxy that Emperor Palptaine's Galactic Empire was in control of things and to abide by the laws.

Inside his specially modified helmet, a message chimed in; "TZ-290. Two swoops heading your way. Intercept and hold for questioning."

Nothing more to say; he had his orders. Sure enough, as he stepped out into the sandy street, two swoop bikes slowly came into view. Raising his hand, the sand encrusted on his armour, he waved down the bikes who stopped in front of him.

A Dewback roared softly across from them. One of the pilots, a radiant looking female Twi'lek, glared up at the Imperial.

"Citizens. In the name of the Galactic Empire, I require you both to dismount and accompany me please."

The Twi'lek simply smiled and turned to get of her bike. Her fellow rider, a Rodian, just looked at him. TZ-290 pointed.

"You. Off the s-"

His vision blurred as a great force thundered into the back of his head, sending him lurching over the swoop in front of him. Turning himself around as quickly as he could, his fleeting glance at the Twi'lek holding a small baton was halted by the Rodian who knocked his helmet off from behind, exposing his unprepared eyes to the blinding suns above, causing him to wince and go blind...

...Connor raised the detonator higher to enforce his threat and he could see a congregation of troopers amassing at the base of the ramp. Those surrounding him hadn't moved with their E-11s trained on him. His breathing was getting tighter and he forced himself to imagine the pain and fear he felt back at that moment on Tatooine...

...He didn't see what happened next but felt his insides go ice cold, his head explode with pain and his legs almost ripped out from underneath him. Before blacking out he felt the open wound on his head and guessed the blood that was splattered on the sand below belonged to him. He shouted out again in pain as a boot connected with his face before it went silent...

"...the nerve-enhancement implant will sustain him..."

...the needles bore down into the base of his neck on the operating table...

"...he'll never be the same again, but if it works he'll be a model test subject..."

Connor's body began to tighten, his vision began to blur with the Stormtrooper's around him advancing in; the noise, the heat, the danger; the pain all worked against him as his hand suddenly fell and dropped the small sphere, harmlessly hitting the ground and rolling to one side, nothing more than a food parcel.

With a cry, the surrounding troopers dived backwards away from the suspected explosive device, but that was enough of a distraction with the screams of the scared crowd around him. The nerve enhancement implant in Connor's skull drove a piercing whine throughout his brain, like a howling Krayyt Dragon booming inside his head...

"...send a transmission to Lord Vader's shuttle. His test is complete..."

...his heart thumped inside his chest; a swelling anger and resentment bubbled away...

".....AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!..."

Connor's grip fell from the captive trooper, using the moment to push himself as far from the "explosive" as he could in the seconds to spare.

His legs gave way underneath him; the noise inside his head overcame his senses and his vision once more fell away into nothingness. Rolling forward onto the paving below, Connor's body shut down and he lay lifeless, surrounded by advancing Stormtroopers.

"...subject Connor Harrison, Imperial TZ-290, will be back in service in under a month. Well done Captain..."


TAG: Bravo

 

IC: Kannari Oshi
Customs Processing Area, Craci Prime Spaceport


Kannari listened to the ESPO guards plan. The whole spaceport could be lowered down into a hidden bunker? If there was one good thing she could say about the imperials it was they seemed to be prepared for any eventuality. Though the mysterious lone terrorist was apparently making a mockery of their forces the way Barker was talking. How could one man orchestrate all this? Surely there was more too it…but Kannari did not have time to dwell on her questions and curiosities, at least not right now. Barker paused to allow her some input, but his first words were drowned out by the sound of more shattering glass and falling debris , the crashing coming from elsewhere in the terminal. Kannari’s keen ears picked up the sounds of distant screams further out from their position. They had to hurry!

She watched as Barker quickly pulled out a crumpled square of flimsy and laid it out on the table between them. Her pale gold eyes scanned the page. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be an area map of the passenger terminal. Different areas of the building were highlighted in blue stylus. The passenger terminal had to cater for many different types of ships, many of different sizes and of varying functions, and they all needed to dock somewhere… Barker pointed out two large parallel rectangles at one of the ends of the spaceport map with his finger.

“See these two big areas?” Dry docks to cater for ships the scale of Venator-class star destroyers. They are covered, and tough enough to withstand most bombardment. If we cannot sink the terminal, Plan B is to deputise yourself, and for you to take charge of the passengers, get as many of them onto the bus that your mate,” here, he referred to the stormtrooper who had interviewed her, “is bringing round, and take them to one of these dry docks. What do you say?”

Barker looked at Kannari, awaiting her answer. A low growl escaped her lips and she gave an affirmative nod “I will do it” She called out over the noise “Appeal for calm may be difficult, but will do what I can. Must be mindful of terrorist action. What is ETA on bus?”


Tag: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Governor's Palace / Imperial Garrison, Medbay, Craci Prime, Craci System

Sitting on the bed he watched as all the women left and he was left alone, if not for the curtain ease by which anyone could enter he would be sorely temped to remove the mask no matter how much of a pain it would be to get back on afterward. It was bad enough he had to pretend to be this creature, he was afraid he was soon going to smell like one as well. There was no helping it though. Nothing at all.

TAG: Bravo / Intervention, Sith

---

IC: Tiaca
Governor's Palace / Imperial Garrison, Medbay Central Computer, Craci Prime, Craci System

The Sephi seemed to be trying to placate the woman. With a hand on her stomach she slowly rolled it out, offering and reminding the Sephi of the blades she had concealed still there for Winterkill to use if the situation called for it from the previous disguise. Still it was nothing and the Sephi did nothing, instead waiting for the nurse to leave them. Once they were alone she simply noted his looking for camera's. A futile measure.

Looking at the console she began searching and soon found data-jack lower. It was an Imperial third standard designed not for astromechs but as a back up for medical droids needing to upload patient information. Still the system should be connected to the rest of the systems, so squating down she tapped her shoulder she positioned closest to it and away from possible observation.

A second later a deep red glow emanated from her shoulder before dimming, a deep crisp voice in perfect Imperial Commander voice fresh from Coruscant spoke out. "Yes mistress."

"Initiated prime, and tertiary contingencies."

"Secondary?"

"Search update and secure scene."

"Way found, path blocked."

Sighing she pulled a knife out of her gut holster that had a curved tip with a gutting back edge. Flipping it around she cut a slit down her far shoulder which soon after a few clicking noises extended a data probe into the socket and began softly whirring as it worked on the encryption lock and gaining access to the system. Looking up she nodded toward Winterkill, "Deal with interruptions?"

TAG: Bravo, Intervention, Sith-I-5, greyjedi125

 

IC: Atin Taab
Speeding through Craci Imperial Spaceport

Atin sped on threw the streets of the Craci Spaceport, giving no thought to the Elf who occupied the back seat of the speeder van. It wasn't that Atin didn't care (though he knew his father wouldn't have), it's just that he needed to devote all his attention to driving and what was going on outside the van. The Commander could look after himself, though Atin did hope he was at least wearing his seat belt.

They careened around anther corner, a sign by the roadside said they were approaching the Craci Mus... Atin didn't have enough time to read the rest as his attention was redirected to the Stormtrooper ahead of them manning the one being roadblock. No doubt noticing the oncoming speeder van the stormie brandished his blaster with one hand while motioning Atin to stop the vehicle with the other. "Shab that," Atin mumbled to himself as he prepared to speed past the whiteshell before he could react.

---

IC: ST-087 "Mick", Assigned to detached duty (Crowd control) Craci Museum of Art. (NPC)

Mick was bored. In fact Mick was bored beyond bored. Listening in on the tactical channel he could hear that there were "events" happening all around (and above) the spaceport. He had joined the Stormtrooper Corp to take part in such excitement. Instead he had found himself detached from his squad by the orders of some... well he didn't know where the orders came from originally. All he knew that his squad leader had ordered him, as the most junior member of his unit, to crowd control duty outside the Art Museum. And so here he was, blocking traffic and manning this roadblock in front of the cultural building hoping that if he could accomplish this easy and boring assignment he would earn a promotion and get to see some real action sometime.

The high pitched whine of a fast moving speeder caught his attention and he spun around just in time to see a mid-size speeder van hurtling his way. He cradled his trusty E-11 in his left arm while he motioned for the vehicle to slow down and stop...

---

IC: Atin Taab
Speeding through Craci Imperial Spaceport

Atin was getting ready to warn Commander Yavscout of his intention to run the roadblock when a new obstruction came across their path. It was...a painting? Atin didn't even have time to shake his head in disbelief. He kept them on their course, straight through the framed art which shattered and tore as the speeder van burst through it. He supposed he could have tried to go around, maybe even mount the curb. But that could have endangered other lives, as well themselves, if they collided with something more sturdy than a simple painting. It never even occurred to the young Mandalorain to turn around and try another route. Of course now they still had the Stormtrooper to their front still to deal with...

---

IC: ST-087 "Mick", Assigned to detached duty (Crowd control) Craci Museum of Art. (NPC)

"Kriff!" Mick shouted to no one but himself as the speeder van not only disobeyed his command, but also all local safety ordinances as it crashed through the painting being escorted across the street to the waiting safe vehicle. He was never going to get promoted now. He raised his E-11 to his shoulder now, prepared to pepper the offending vehicle with blaster bolts if it didn't now heed his commands to "Halt!"

TAG: Sith-I-5

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Hutt Caravel, in vacuum above Craci prime. 13 minutes of oxygen remaining.

Taab checked the display in his HUD telling him how much longer his meager life support system would keep him alive out here. His beskar'gam was never intended to be a long duration survival option for hard vacuum, truth be told he rarely used it for this purpose at all. Its life support systems were far more often used to keep him from inhaling smoke from the fires of battle, or riot gas deployed against unsuspecting and lesser prepared foes. Still it was a system that he was well used to, and he had trained for and been in hard vac situations before.

The caravel shuddered underneath him again, impacted by what looked like a hard wood desk still attached to a bit of deck plating from whatever ship had met its demise out here. Taab had seen countless bits of debris, as well as more than a few bodies out here. Those bodies served as a reminder of the fate that awaited Taab if they couldn't get this Caravel aboard the cruiser that lay off their bow. It was so tantalizingly close, and yet was just frustratingly out of reach. If Sunny didn't get things going quickly on this rustbucket Taab was going to have to do something he really didn't want to do in an attempt to board the larger vessel and free them all. In an attempt to urge the new Merc on Taab broke his silence (something he had adopted to conserve his air supply) and commed Sunri.

"Get us moving Sunny, anytime would be nice."

TAG: Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65, Sith again.

 

IC: Hutt Caravel
Location: low Craci Prime orbit

The potential Merc had a one-in-sith, uh, one-in-six chance of getting the button that would restart the engines, not that that would do any good without power, however, by the same one-in-six chance, he hit the button that accessed the craft's emergency power reserve.

If he had been looking up, he would see the one remaining blue triangle on the circular ceiling joined by two more, the sound of energy thrumming through the deck underfoot.

However, the caravel did not move.

* * * *
Exterior

Some spacers claim that ships have a life of their own, that they are alive.

The caravel...who knows. It had been itching to do something the last few moments, but did not have sufficient power to do so, until Sunri accessed the reserves.

The Hutt vessel returned fire on the TIE it had been tracking, a heavy scarlet blaster bolt in the face, a brilliant rapidly expanding fireball of roiling flame which peppered the caravel's aft with subsonic shrapnel.

Then the shockwave from the detonated SFS I-a2B solar ionisation reactor washed through the debris field, and over the caravel, noticeably lurching it slowly in the general direction of the four hundred metre distant Bulwark-class cruiser.

* * * *
Interior - Engine Room

One of the two new light triangle disappeared, expended in the one shot, though the Sunri would be unlikely to know what had transpired.

He had pressed that button, and now, moments later, the vessel had lurched, and could be felt moving.

Tag: Bardan_Jusik (Taab), Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65