Star Wars Star Wars: Xenophobia

[image=http://i312.photobucket.com/albums/ll340/Sarge221/xenoeggs.png]

STAR WARS: XENOPHOBIA


Though Xlo Leyr hardly ventured from his quarters or the infirmary, the Quarren researcher remembered the Administration and Communications level of the mining facility to be less?damaged. He definitely did not remember the hole in the ceiling nor the blaster scoring that dotted everywhere else along the walls and floor of the hall. Weapons had been cast aside, the blood that smeared their surfaces the only hint of what may?ve happened to the owners whose bodies were strangely absent.

Collecting. His own blaster pistol clutched in his hand, Leyr stepped out of the lift and ventured into the hall. Harvesting. To be used for more.

Pausing near the hole at the ceiling, the Quarren stilled, the only movements being his eyes that searched upwards while the twitching tentacles at his face mirrored the caution, fear, and?wonder that he looked upon the opening with. With this close look, Leyr was able to see how the edges curved outwards, a sign of something having forced its way through.

But not on its own power, Xlo observed as he took into account that some of the durasteel had seemingly been dissolved. A look at the floor now showed him holes where the metal had similarly been dissolved. It had been wounded.

Keeping his head low, the researcher moved quickly beneath the hole, quit sure that not only his breath but his heart had stopped in that short second. When nothing happened, his respiration returned to normal as he continued on to the communication center that was located at the end of this treacherous corridor.

They?re clever, Xlo continued, unable to help but continue thinking. Using the vents to travel and ambush, collecting hosts, reproducing ?

?Dr. Leyr!?

Leyr must?ve been examining that hole longer then he had thought if someone had been able to recall and use the turbolift. Looking back down the hall, he saw the open doors of the turbolift and a frantic-looking Twi?lek that was already speeding down the hall towards him. The Quarren recognized him as Ry, or at least that?s what everyone else had called him. Addicted to ryll, as Xlo knew when he had examined Ry during a session of severe withdrawal one night when the Twi?lek had run out of whatever stash he had kept of the stuff. A dirty, miserable specimen of his race, Leyr had to wonder if his paler-than-usual blue skin that was drenched in sweat was due to the withdrawal or fear.

Not that he would have to worry about it for much longer. Upon passing beneath the hole, a black, skeletal hand that yet possessed immense strength shot out like a kodashi viper and grabbed one of Ry?s trailing lekku. Leyr shut the bulkhead doors, cutting off the sound of Ry?s terrified shrieks and the sight of him being pulled towards the hole by his lekku.

No hope for containment now, Xlo thought with bitter humor as he turned his back and went to the consoles. Astonishingly enough, they had managed to cut primary power but have yet to cut the backup generator which was still feeding power to the facility.

Not that that?s saying much. Xlo started to punch in keys. Even with replacement parts the primary generator still had trouble providing constant power. Who knows how long the backup will last. Going to have to make this-

BANG

The Quarren jumped and looked to the bulkheads just as a second loud bang followed. Cursing the now certainly deceased Ry for leading them here, Xlo turned back to the console and continued typing, assuring himself that, while they were strong, the bulkheads would hold them. It was only when the banging ceased and was replaced with a ?hissing? sound that the researcher had to subtract the number of minutes he had left to seconds.

They?re clever, he thought again. An intelligence with their viciousness.

They were the GA?s problem now. The console beeped in confirmation at his request and Leyr looked at the screen with satisfac

 

And we already have two positions taken

Slicer: HanSolo29
Strike Trooper: Khan_Iceay

Any positions that anyone else desires, make sure to send me a PM or post here about which class you wish to reserve so that they don't get taken

 

<Deleted>

 

I have and sent my reply.


More positions taken:

Jedi Knight - Sinrebirth
Scout - Crazed Ewok

...Wow that was fast. All that's left is the Demolitionist.

 

GM Approved

Name: Nial Strumla
Age: 37
Race: Human
Homeworld: Corellia
Personality: Cold, dead serious about the job, short tempered. Doesn't make small talk on the job unless it helps squad moral, doesn't tend to make jokes.
Appearance: 6'2" black hair, cropped short. Muscular build from intense military training, various scars, including one over his left eye, received during the Vong War. Wears the standard mimetic enviro-suit with black helmet and tinted face bowl.
Class: Strike Trooper
Rank: Captain
History: Nial is a "lifer", an individual who joined the Military at a young age, and entered the officer track with the intent to leave the Military in one of two ways. By reaching the age of retirement, or in a box. When he joined Nial was the standard rambunctious disgruntled and free spirited Corellian. As with most people however the intensive training of the Gropos (GROundPOunderS) officer track broke that individual and reformed him into a dedicated and serious killing machine. The first 8 years of Nial's military life following his graduation was the standard for New Republic personnel. He fought the Empire. He fought in the last 3 years of the Galactic Civil War, participated in assaults on Imperial Holdouts, and dealt with the Second Imperium as one of many individual aspects of the New Republic's forces.

When the Vong War broke out Nial participated in the ground theaters of multiple battles, and witnessed the massive devastation that invaders bio-organic weaponry wrought. He lost friends, rivals, and people he called family, and each loss hardened him a bit more, took away a bit more of his humanity. Following the victory at Ebaq 9 the Strike Troopers were formed and Nial jumped at the chance to take a more active role in taking the pain to the Vong. Having already been a veteran of various battles he had an intimate knowledge of many aspects of Vong technology, how they worked, his knowledge was expanded by a quick 'refresher course' using new intelligence gathered by the New Republic turned Galactic Alliance. Participating in rescue operations returning people to where they belonged, in their posts, and participating in counter-attacks Nial was part of one of the GA's instrumental resources for Victory.

Following the War Nial was assigned to the Harrier running patrols in the less protected areas of the Galaxy looking for holdouts, much like he had with the Empire. Same war different enemy, same outcome. Nial is a lifer, it makes sense that his life has been war.

 

And the Demolitionist is taken as well. That's all folks! Now all that's left is to look and approve some CSes before I decide when we start

 

OOC: "We're on an express elevator to hell! Goin' DOWN!"

...Sorry, I just had to say that.

I'll go over in the corner and be quiet now.

 

GM Approved!

Name: Baariel
Age: 54
Race: Snivvian
Homeworld: Cadomai
Personality: Introverted, with a tendency to think out loud or talk to himself
Appearance: [image=http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TFBFHx0gM8k/Rlcymu5HAhI/AAAAAAAAAlI/FWkU8e407f8/s320/zutmore.jpg]
Class: Demolitionist
Rank: Private
History: Once upon a time, in a subterranean warren much like this one, a pair of infant lungs first breathed the cold air and with a cry told all that they were here to stay.

Being a twin born during the winter/hibernation season he and his twin were not bothered until the following summer. When they were, they were both tested in an attempt to figure out which one was normal, and which one had the potential makings of a psychopathic genius since neither showed any malformations or defects. Thus began the controversy. Once discovered one of them had such makings both were scheduled for an experimental procedure where one's genetic template would be meticulously laid out to replace the other's in the areas that they differed. There was much fuss, after all no one wants to be the parent of a psychopath, but then again when slavers are attacking your world and winning one tends to start to notice the possible benefits if steered in the right direction with only slight genetic manipulation. . .instead of the usual reversal or baseline reset programs.

To help give a better emotional base, both children with their parents were taken into a military base where the twins were to be trained in the ways of self control, neither ever told which one held the potential for genius and more ominously psychopathic tendencies.

At the age of seventeen when both were being trained in the ways of war along with the other inductees, the area under which the installation was hidden that they were in was attacked, by Thalassian Pirates. Which ended in his and his brothers abduction, his brother was sent or sold elsewhere, and he was kept as an armory tech at the pirates base. It wasn't until ten years later that he was able to leave a free Snivvian.

After two years of enjoying the free life, and a moderate piratical inheritance, he found himself bound somewhat by the past and eventually after much introspection dumped a large sum and several years at multiple corporate institutions perfecting what some similarly enthralled called 'The art of the Boo-ooM.' With live demolition projects that brought a good sense of travel, but the purpose just seemed. . .to small, to simple, and just to controlled.

Soon after he was happily recruited into the life of a Mercenary for hire, blowing things from here to kingdoms come across the galaxy. Blowing up installations of other non-sanctioned groups of pirates, slavers, mercenaries, or even the occasional Imperial installation was a good life. Especially whenever it included getting new samples of the newer varieties of explosive compounds instead of being stuck with the clone-war era materials.

Eventually, after many years and having lost many fingers - some several times - he made a mistake that cost him half of a hand to prevent blowing up his own group. After that incident he left the group of mercenaries. It wasn't even a year after that that he was approached about joining the recent Rebellion, which he gladly did. For it not only saved a bundle on replacing half a hand with a prosthetic, and allowed him to serve a larger contender since the Empire wouldn't hire him, but it also gave him access to better explosive systems, some fresh from Imperial storage! He served with distinction, managing to only loose his left hand during his tours of service. Multiple do to his occasional quiting and being brought back into the fold again, sometimes by a separate Rebel cell, which led to him having served under many different true Rebel and fake Rebel commands.

At forty-eight years of age he settled into an uneasy retirement from his longest tour, with a small collection of demolition records from nearly all areas of the field that required

 

GM approved!

Name: Kastor Antilles
Age: 27
Race: Human
Homeworld: Ord Mantell
Personality: Good-natured when engaged, but generally reticent as far as social relations go. He is very capable both as a team leader and team member, bonding readily and strongly with his men, looking after them as brothers. However, seeing many friends tied up in senseless murders and in Vong attacks has left him with something of a hidden callous; he's resistant to delving very deeply into others' lives, or allowing them into his own, outside of the battlefield. He feels guilt over a variety of instances for various reasons, but he doesn't let it affect his outward morale. That said, he does not isolate himself nor does he take himself very seriously - he enjoys joking with his teammates, not allowing his own issues to affect his performance as a soldier.
Appearance:
[image=http://the-polyglot.net/uploads/other/avatars/kastor-headshot.jpg]
Class: Scout
Rank: Second Lieutenant
History: Kastor's ancestors had for generations maintained a specific number of the massive ore-mining machinery in the out-lands of the Worlport continent. Over hundreds of years the family had worked on the same drills, for the same company. While the family was reasonably free from much of the urban hell that consumed the majority of the planet, life wasn't easy. Little money trickled in from simple maintenance duties. Kastor's immediate family was limited, consisting only of him, his parents, and an uncle. He had few friends, many of whom succumbed to mining disasters or to roving gangs from the cities.

Kastor had every intention of continuing the family trade, until his late teens, when a mechanical repair went horribly wrong, both taking his father's life and leaving his uncle incapacitated in the mid-term. The accident also destroyed several of the bore drills. The mining company was unwilling to reinvest in the aged equipment, leaving the Antilles' "ancestral" machines defunct and sending the family into unemployment for the first time in centuries.

Within his uncharacteristically-small family, Kastor remained the only able-bodied man. While his mother stayed behind to tend to his uncle, Kastor had no choice but to sojourn to the vast capital city of Worlport and find work through any means possible in order to support his family. While tending to engines and other mechanical constructs occupied his first months, later Kastor began to ease his way into small protection jobs and couriering, including infiltration and data retrieval/sabotage between rivals in many businesses - these things were common on Ord Mantell.

As the New Republic brought increasing opportunity to Ord Mantell, Kastor sought and received his mother's permission to go offworld and find better financial opportunities. He entered into the New Republic military. Although originally in the engineering corps training program, Kastor chose instead to further his affinity for accumulating information, from scientific collecting to reconnaissance to spying - and often, ambushing.

After touring with scientific expeditions and engaging in a handful of skirmishes, Kastor was thrust into action when the Yuuzhan Vong arrived. While many were always in fear of the Vong, Kastor's own curiosity and desire to explore the radically-strange culture kept him inquisitive. He naively relished the opportunity to examine dovin basals, or be the first to investigate some never-before-seen biotech.

As the war drew on, Kastor witnessed the horrifying forced terraforming of entire planets and the total devastation of others, but nothing was more impacting than his assignment to Wayland. Upon seeing the total corruption of the world, all on the team were caught off guard to see the living, breathing bio-weapon factory. Although the team secured the samples that were priority for its mission, Kastor left with only a fraction of the contents of his stomach.

In the aftermath of the Vong war, Ord Mantell became a refugee world, even as its people tried to recover from its own, personal Vong invasion. Kastor

 

Alright, that's all for the character sheets! With everyone gathered I should hopefully be able to start the game Wednesday at the earliest

 

OOC: So by Wednesday I of course meant Friday Sorry about that, but as some may know, I've had some trouble with a certain presentation and other schoolwork that needed to get done. That and I was learning my first lesson as a GM: intro posts are haaaarrrrrd

But here it be! Thank you all for joining my very first game and I hope that not only myself but all of you will enjoy the ride We certainly have the cast for it!

Now let us start...

[image=http://i312.photobucket.com/albums/ll340/Sarge221/xenophobia.png]


Harrier, Captain's Quarters

At a length of 600 meters, the Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers had been formidable warships when they had first lined the shipyards of Rendili Stardrive that had been scattered throughout the Mid and Outer Rim territories. Possessing a large offensive armament of quad laser cannons and turbolasers, Dreadnaughts were to be the new workhorse of the Republic Judicial Forces and, later on, to become the backbone of a restored Republic Navy. Such a feat had been abandoned due to major setbacks, however, such as the disappearance of the two hundred vessels of the Katana Fleet. By the time of the rediscovery of that fleet, even the Harrier and the rest of these updated vessels found themselves outclassed with the more modern warships of the new era and were later decommissioned.

The only reason the Harrier had even been rearmed and sent back to the front lines during the Yuuzhan Vong War was because of the Galactic Alliance's desperate need for ships. But even with modernized shields, weapons, and systems, it was still no Star Destroyer or Mon Calamari Cruiser.

As if that was going to stop Veth Dy'lan.

"The transmission is coming from the Outer Rim," the holographic Falleen pointed out, not for the first time. Wearing a uniform and insignia that marked him as an officer of Fleet Command, Zayr - the last name that Veth only bothered to remember - was one of the main advisors overseeing the movements of the scout and patrol ships that were currently deployed throughout the galaxy. "The Mid Rim has only been declared safe two months ago and even then such a declaration is sketchy at best. As designated, the Harrier should remain in case there are any renewals of incursions."

"Even before the declaration the only enemy vessels that could pose any threat were corvette analogues and whatever the Peace Brigade and pirates could scrape up," countered Dy'lan, his fur bristling at the continued debate. The Bothan smoothed it down while continuing with, "The largest vessel that had even been sighted let alone engaged was a frigate analogue and even the Harrier could best that."

"But the Harrier is not even considered as a true warship." Not for the first time did the Zayr turn to the datapad that remained clutched in his hand. "Your main cargo hold had been converted to hold a B5 Juggernaut transport and assault shuttles for planetary assault and boarding operations."

"But our upgraded shields and turbolasers-"

"Even with the additional missile launchers your starfighter complement had been reduced to half a squadron of X-Wings. T-65 X-Wings for that matter, not the XJs. The Harrier hardly fits the requirements for Outer Rim operations where the threat of Vong encounters is much higher. And not just the threat of encountering your usual corvette analogues; we're talking about bigger ships."

"The Vong!" Dy'lan spat. "They're already broken. It's just a matter of finishing them off."

"Easier said then done," the Zayr replied yet again and tapped a button on his datapad. "Though many Vong officers had accepted their exile, information persists of a couple that hold responsibility for the most recent engagements in the Outer Rim. There are even rumors that Hreven Karsh had survived his encounter with the Chiss and managed to lobby a few members of the Warrior caste."

"Oh yes, a disgraced, one-armed commander is quite the threat. They're defea

 

Nial Strumla
Harrier, Medical Bay


"I'm sure you understand the procedure," the Twi'lek MedStaffer started on the traditional tangent of attempting to distract her patient away from the syringe stuck in his arm. Unfortunately for her her current patient didn't really care. Needles were far from the worst things he'd encountered in his life time, he hardly noticed them anymore.

Not after seeing the atrocities of the Empire, its hold outs and resurgences. When you witnessed things like the Yevethan Purge, and the greater Black Fleet Crisis, the Almanian Uprising, Corellian Insurrection, Imperial Skirmishes, and Caamas Document Crisis. And then the Vong. No after witnessing all that and then experiencing the devastation of the Vong first hand, needles were nothing if but a minor distraction.

"When personnel are under the risk of coming into contact with the Vong and possible deadly biological contaminants in the environment," She just kept going on and on. It annoyed Nial to no end, that he was being treated like a noob. Finally the droid finished administering the current vaccination and moved on. Standing up Nial picked his undershirt up off the exam table and started to slide it over his head, ignoring the mild burning discomfort where he'd gotten the shot.

Before he could even put on his jacket though the Nurse started again, "I'm sure you have plenty to do before your big mission. Have you even eaten yet? In my experience, I have seen how hunger can diminish the fighting capabilities of even such strong men as yourself so you may want to go to the mess hall." That was that, it was one thing to go over procedure to Nial, that could be passed of as operational standards, but to that last little bit of advice was on the verge of insulting to the veteran soldier.

Sighing, he slide the jacket over his arms. "Look Doc, no offense but I've been running across battlefields and sending less fortunate individuals into the service of your ilk since before you had the right to wear that shiny white coat. Needless to say, I know how to keep myself in tip top shape thank you." Not really wanting to hear the nurses reply Nial moved on, nodding to Baariel as he passed on his way out of the Medlab.

Tag: Mitth, Sarge

 

IC: Baariel
Harrier, Medical Bay

Sitting there in that med-bay, looking at the exposed wires and servos that were revealed beneath his wrists he wondered, as one is want to do about it. Was that him? Or was it merely a tool he had had grafted on to replace the one's nature had given him that he had lost. Little was there he could truly glean from such musings, though it did bring up old memories.

One company had advertised theirs as the best on the market, as the famous Jedi Anakin Skywalker had made theirs his choice. Of course brands had changed along with the new regims over the years, this was now the fourth or fifth galactic regigm he had served under? Didn't matter really, the droid was poking, scanning, and measuring. Not a word for a beginning, only a diagnosis at the end. Something he enjoyed about droids nearly as much as the shrapnel they could create or bombs they could deliver.

Unlike organic doctors which tended to prattle on, especially the one on this ship, best guess was she was overcompensating. For what he didn't want to think about, and didn't really care, unattractive as the poor thing was. Eyes too close together, too much forhead, small mouth and even tinier teeth that are hardly good for anything, as bad off in the looks department as a human. The way she talked you would of thought they were deploying in the next twenty minutes, which would of meant overcompensating for either nervousness or doubt of personal ability. Why did his mind have to go there?

"Reaction time measured at .25 seconds," reported the droid as he examined the movements of the synthetic fingers. "Optimal timing for both human and Snivvian." Closing the panels, the droid carefully replaced the synthetic flesh and stepped away. "You may depart."

Flexing his fingers a couple of times as he sat there he noted the man's reply to the doc, "Thank you." he replied to the droid with a slight nod of his head before standing and unrolling his sleeves. The man nodded to him with which he merely muttered, "Children" as a reply with a smile before following the man out.

Being dismissed he had no were in particular to head, either back to his quarters or back to run inventory on the stores and possibly pick up the new visor to do test runs. Both locations the had a meal, something the ugly doctor would have been glad about. Now his only problem was deciding what he wanted to do, or possibly had to do.

TAG: Kahn_Iceay, Sarrge

 

IC: Kastor Antilles
Corridors, the Harrier

It was good to talk to Mari after so many years, in many respects. She was a comrade-in-arms, one of Kastor's most dependable allies throughout the War. When she'd tracked him down on the Harrier, the lieutenant had been eager to rediscover an old face.

But in other ways, she was a reminder of a too-dark time. Kastor ostensibly smiled and laughed along with her, but she was practically a walking memorial to all that was lost in the war - no, worse; she was a testimony to the corrupting power of the Vong. It had changed people as it'd changed planets, unapologetically rewriting the definition of "normal." Nothing was normal anymore.

What bothered Kastor, though, was her cheerful acceptance - and, it seemed, willing embrace - of the dehumanization. She'd healed up well, aside from the ocular implant. It was a common artificial appendage now, but it almost seemed like she preferred it. She seemed eager to swap sections of herself, not unlike one of the Vong. He hadn't remembered that about her. Everything changed on Wayland, he supposed.

He tried not to dwell on his own musings about Mari's motives. But he couldn't help but feel the shiver play up his spine as she spoke of her enthusiastic exposition of her electronic eyepiece. It would have been macabre had not the victim been the proponent. He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to mask his unease. "That's great," Kastor offered, turning his lips up in what strove to be an encouraging smile. "Really. If you got back even half of that, I'd bet you could take on half a legion of whatever the Galaxy's got to throw at you, easy."

As Kastor turned the corner, hoping his praise wouldn't bring on another wave of cyborg celebration, a blunt pain shot up his foot.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" came an irate voice.

Kastor felt his brow angle downward in irritation, as he brought his eyes - his organic eyes, nonetheless - to bear on the clumsy offender. Then they fell on a woman standing right in front of him, a datapad clutched to her hand. She was gorgeous, with dull blonde hair flowing effortlessly around her neck. Kastor's head cocked ever-so-slightly, since for a moment he doubted if this was the woman who'd barked at him moments before, as she now she bore something of an euphoric look on her face.

"I mean... I'm sorry," she apologized, immediately lapsing into a more relaxed state. She smiled. "Hi. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Kastor returned a wide grin, somewhat flattered by her manner. "No, uh," he initially stammered, trying to find his way out of her dark eyes. "I'm fine." An awkward moment passed. "It's a good thing your datapad's alright," he mused, gesturing halfway to the sensitive instrument. He didn't know what else to say; whatever came into his mind was his working plan. "Bet you have lots of... stuff on there."

TAG: HS29, Sarge

 

IC: Milo Vrin
Harrier, Corridors

"Master Jedi!"

The voice came from behind Sorra Plo as he started to turn, a voice that came from the direction of the mess where the Knight had tentatively thought of stopping off to. It held a higher pitch, signifying a youthfulness to the speaker and, upon turning around, Sorra would see why.

Despite appearing human, the young man who stood in front of him gave off an appearance that testified against such a racial status. The two-toned hair stood out the most; an unusual mix of copper and white-colored hairs that matted the top of his head. Dyes could readily explain such a phenomenon but, in fact, it was completely natural. As was the golden skin that could be seen on his face and what flesh wasn't covered by the white apron that he wore. A face that had it's lips in a smile to reveal highly-developed fangs.

He was Firrerreo, a race of people that had faced against tragedies that were not only constructed by the Yuuzhan Vong but by the Galactic Empire that had replaced the fallen Old Republic with the dreaded Sith Emperor Palpatine. Doused with a deadly strain of a hive virus that left millions of Firrerreos dead and their homeworld - Firrerre - equally so, there had only been the thousands that had been condemned to suspended animation in specially designed passenger freighters that were left alive. These freighters were later discovered by then-Chief of State Leia Organa Solo and, soon after, the Firrerreos were released and allowed to resettle on Belderone and Kinooine.

Belderone had been one of the worlds whose inhabitants' were played by Vong agents to lash out against each other, weakening their defenses, and thus leading to an easy conquest by the galactic invaders. The resettled Firrerreos, along with the humans that they had been led to war against, had thus been wiped out.

Those horrid actions have reduced the race to near-extinction, with members such as the young man standing before Sorra being a very rare sight.

"I was just on my way over to your quarters to deliver your breakfast," the young man explained as he stepped forward and held out a tray towards Sorra which held a plate packed with eggs and sausages. "I was told that you were going to need plenty this morning. Rumors say that you have a mission coming up."

Something that Sorra may not know about due to his dislike for social interaction. Other then the message from Tionne, no other messages had been sent to his datapad. Whether he even knew that the Harrier had left the Mid Rim entirely could even be questionable.

"I'm Milo Vrin," continued the young Firrerreo. Despite capable of living for many more years beyond the lifespan of humans, Milo looked to be only eighteen. If that. "I've been delivering your meals though I don't think we ever met in person." He shrugged. "I just knock, drop them off, and collect the dishes later. Nice to finally meet you in person!"

TAG: Sinrebirth


-------

IC: Mari Pasella
Harrier, Separate Corridors

"Hi. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Mari had immediately focused upon the woman that had stepped upon Kastor, both her organic and cybernetic eye locking onto her. At the initial outburst of said trespasser, Mari had her mouth open, ready to fire back on behalf of her colleague, but the quick apology that was spoken next caused the female scout to close it as she looked between her and then to Kastor.

Upon his own stammering reply, Mari raised a brow before her lips then formed into a grin.

"Bet you have lots of... stuff on there."

It required all of Mari's self-control to not even snort at the lousy comment. Her organic right eye rolling - with her left eye trying to mimic the action with another series of clicks -, she thought to help the situation by nudging her elbow against Kastor's ribs to get his attention.

"Name...?" she silently mouthed towards him, her head tilting to the newcomer before she took a step back. Despite not having been able to detect Kasto

 

Nial Strumla
Harrier, Medical Bay


One would expect to see high level medical personnel like Jacobs to be in the Medical Bay, but Nial couldn't help but wish he'd been somewhere else. He just didn't enjoy the medical bay, of any sort, especially since the Yuuzhan Vong War, seeing all his fellow soldiers experiencing some of the worst kinds of pain, and fighting the sort of battle that no combat training can help you win. A battle of immune systems, viral agents, and medicines.

Nial shuddered ever so slightly as memories of comrades inflicted with coomb spores, grievous wounds inflicted by blorash jelly, and countless other bio-weapons employed by the Vong. And perhaps worse, the Bacta Plague, turning the Galaxy's greatest medical material against itself. Pushing the memories aside for the moment Nial listened to the CMO. He all but confirmed that there was a mission now with the mention of a briefing, or at least that they were going to be filled in with why the Harrier had been pulled into the outer rim.

And then Jacobs took it upon himself to do just what the nurse had done and remind him and the Private to 'take all the necessary preparations that you may need to prepare for your upcoming mission'. Nial honestly didn't know why Medical personnel thought that all ground pounders had no idea how to take care of themselves. Perhaps Nial should start telling the MedCorps how to wrap bandages and administer bacta patches.

But that was for musing another time, right now Nial just wanted to get out of the med bay. Nodding to Jacobs, Nial motioned to the Demolition. "Private Baariel, walk with me." Without another word Nial moved passed the CMO and out into the corridors, moving slow enough for Baariel to catch up with no problems.

Tag: Mitth, Sarge

 

IC: Private Baariel
Harrier, Medical Bay

To suddenly be stopped in one's track was, like the medical personel's advice, a common disruption onboard any ship or major military installation. The fact that the doctor had to look at a pad to remember his name was a bit annoying, after all there weren't that many Snivvians in the entire military let alone with dual prosthetics and aboard this ship. Still, that was the way of things, and in large a part of the process he had long become accustomed to. Fresh starts often had these effects, no matter the galactic temperment or cohesive qualities of the group he opperated within.

Nodding he took in the words of doctor, for once the information to be preppared gave some information that he did not have before. Two points were made very clear, possibly three. First was that there was indeed a mission and the young medic was most likely green instead of incompotent. Second, the mission briefing was going to have a likely quick turnaround to deployment. Third and lastely, was that this was a hush job or rush job that they were undertaking, either way meant dropping in with limited intel more likely than not.

The Captain Strumla calling him to walk with him, that was unexpected, not that he expected to see everything coming but it definately took a different tunnel than he had expected. "Sir, Ma'am, 2-1B. Thank you." he quickly intoned to each present before leaving the med-bay. The Captain was already treking down the hall, which required his slightly stouter legs to rush for a moment before catching up to fall into step.

Looking up at the Captain as his nostrils flared slightly in their task of taking in a bit more air he nodded once more. "Sir." he softly spoke, the simple statement an acknowledgement, note of presence, note of rank division, and a question all rolled into one. It was nice how some of the simple Basic could be used in such complex ways, almost like a fresh bomb design or the old steadfast versitile methods.

TAG: Sarge, Kahn_Iceay

 

JP with Mitth
Nial and Baariel
Harrier, Corridors

...In Route to Mess Hall


It didn't take long for the smaller Snivvian to scurry up beside Nial. For a moment Nial wondered how the Private managed to keep up in combat exercises, but pushed the thought aside. Race didn't matter in combat, only skill and allegiance. And the Snivvian had both to have gotten this far, especially with the war. "Sir." A simple recognition of rank and inquiry, the Military wasted nothing, not even words.

"Scuttlebutt Private." the Strike Trooper Captain said as he rounded a corner towards a turbolift to the Mess hall. "The Navy loves to gossip. Ten Ensigns will know a man's going to propose before the groom to be will even have a chance to pick a ring. So Private, have you heard any rumors as to why the Harrier's taken a sudden turn for the Outer Rim?"

Now it was starting to become clear, the perceived camaraderie between the lowest class and the gossip it churned so well. Sadly he did not have what the other was looking for, "Permission to speak freely sir?" he asked as he kept pace with the taller man, head still facing straight ahead.

Proper etiquette, Nial liked that, proper chain of command communications structures had broken down during the war, and while that was fine in close knit squads and crews, it wasn't for service-sentients who were knew, or unknown. "Of course Private." Nial stopped at the turbolift, the doors opening and a Rodian nurse similarly dressed to the Twi'lek one from earlier exited the lift. Nial let her pass before entering and holding the door for the Private.

Stepping aside opposite the Captain he allowed the Rodian Nurse to pass. In some ways it was good to work in a multi-species crew, as well as to be the low man on the chain of command. As the Captain entered the lift giving him permission he walked in, waiting for the doors to close before speaking. "Peace Brigade, Vong, Nobility in peril, the scuttlebutt is varied and long sir. Nothing I would put stock in."

The doors closed and Nial pressed the commands for the mess hall as the Private discussed the various rumors the naval personnel had been passing back and forth. "It always is Private. Its just a matter of running through the gossip for little lines of truth and fact. Nobility in peril for example. The Harrier is approaching seventy years of age. Despite the sturdiness of her design she's old. If some sort of Nobility were in need of assistance Command wouldn't send a seventy year old warship to assist."

"Depending on the situation the Harrier would either be overkill or underkill, never adequate for the job, unless it was a certain Alderanian Princess who tends to get into unusual situations, but thats unlikely as I recall her being on Ossus with the Jedi Order. Vong or Peace Brigade on the other hand, most of the Vong's bigger ships are gone, those that aren't are mostly called for. Take into account this ships compliment of Strike Troopers such as myself who are trained to deal with the Peace Brigade and the Yuuzhan Vong and that becomes a much more likely situation."

Looking down at his prosthetic hand as his superior spoke he slowly flexed the fingers, knowing that if he opened the panel all that would be seen were the wires and pipes slowly moving with their accompanying hum. "Yes sir, but as you said sir there are not many mission profiles that would fit this vessel. Especially one's that are believed to sit around and wait for our arrival. So perhaps the base theory has most merit." Not that it really mattered, he needed only to double check his two mission packs and eat some rations. Either way he was ready for whatever their mission parameters were.

"Indeed. Regardless of what the mission is however, we'll do it to the fullest extent of our abilities. I simply do not like to be kept waiting." The lift came to a halt and its doors hissed open to reveal the busy mess hall where most of the rumors they had just been discussing

 

IC: Kastor Antilles
Corridors, the Harrier

Kastor turned his eyes away from the newcomer long enough to see Mari's amused face, her lips moving in unspoken words. He was sure he soon would be heckled by his comrade for his quite-obvious countenance towards the new woman, but he found himself not particularly troubled by that certainty.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Kastor managed to say, relieved that he somehow pushed the tepid words out of his mouth without them sounding entirely trite. "I'm Kastor. Antilles," he added after a moment. He inclined his head and lifted his brow expectantly, hopefully, inviting her to introduce herself.

TAG: HS29, Sarge