Star Wars OPEN Elite League Limmie

GM Post

It was recently and rightfully pointed out to me last night that by this point last year I was collecting draftees for the 274 ELL Draft, so that must mean it's time to start the process for the 275 ELL Draft. Since we have a late start (courtesy of me), I will be setting the deadline for draft participation to be September 14. Yes, this will allow the non-playoff teams to see where they would shake out in the draft, but so it goes.

I will populate the 275 Draft post as I receive draftees.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Bakura Gardens, Salis D'aar, Bakura

You will break.

Falene tackled Elebraith Kex into the turf, ending another Patriot drive cold.

You will falter.

Falene picked off a pass intended for the Omwati with so much ease that she made it look too easy. The Miner fans still cheered anyways.

You will fail.

Trieste sent the normally sound Avano Koobis flying with a hard hipcheck that caught the Rodian off guard.

All game long Falene heard the gnawing and nagging of insidious doubts. They all said that everyone was right. They were the hard truths of a week when the Miners officially saw their playoff hopes die. It was the voice of an entire galaxy in one telling Falene that she was no good, that she was overhyped. The voice never stopped, not since the game had begun. She heard her teammates too, but they could never drown out these thoughts no matter how loud the Wiz and T.K. yelled. Not even the one hundred thousand plus (actually, it was more less than plus--with the Miners' loss last week to Ralltiir the faithful had given up and apparently sold their tickets to the Patriot Nation given the large number of white and green in the stands) could silence them.

The voice didn't die when she tackled Matisse so hard that he had to leave the game for ten minutes. The voice didn't go away when Kex cussed her out after the fourth time that Falene stripped the ball right out of the Omwati's hands. It didn't fade away when Morgan Alesh swung her leg in a beautiful arc that sent the ball tumbling into the back of the net, behind Keline Socken for the game's one and only goal.

It was only silenced by the final horn of the second half when T.K. grabbed Falene and tossed her in the air in celebration. In that moment where she hit the apex and gravity seemed not to operate on her body, Falene realized what had happened just now.

The Patriots had barely broken through the half back line. Shakabit, Shamai, and Ipsum's hands were lily soft thanks to the fact that the bolo-ball had hardly been in it. Waters, Zire, and Grap had been given an easy day down low. Even Jorpik had barely faced any shots on the day. That's how good Falene and her teammates had been. They had dominated. Falene Trieste had played the game that everyone had been waiting for her to play.

Gaeriel Valerii had been right. Sure, in the standings it meant nothing. The Patriots, it turned out, even clinched a playoff berth despite the loss. But for Falene it meant everything. Ever since the start of the season Falene had wondered if she had it in her. She wondered if she was meant to be here. And now she had her answer. A week ago, the idea of quitting the game altogether wasn't too far from Falene's mind. But now...now nothing was going to keep her away from it. Now she knew where she was meant to be.

When Falene came back down into T.K.'s hands she wrapped her arms around his neck and screamed in delight.

"Whoa girl!" T.K. said, jerking his head back, "Ever hear of tinnitus?"

But Falene didn't care. She'd stopped Chandrila Patriot team that by all rights should have steamrolled the Miners. But that was before anyone had asked her opinion about it. And Falene Trieste was not going to have that.

Even so, Falene remembered her sportsmanship and crossed to congratulate her opponents in green and white as the two fanbases applauded. There was truth in the Friendliest Rivalry in Limmie--there wasn't much hate between these two teams or their fans.

As Falene shook the hand of Koobis, who had to be translated for her benefit since Falene didn't speak Rodese, she overheard another exchange not so far off.

"0-2 eh Reina?" Gaeriel Valerii said with a large grin on her face.

"Why don't you and I get back out there on the field together because I seem to remember destroying you more often than not when you could hack it on the field," Kether replied icily.

"252," Valerii said as she gripped Kether's hand, "252."

"Go to hell, Valerii," Kether said with a not-so friendly grin, her hand clamped on Valerii's still, "because I'm not going to see you on Empress Teta any time soon."

"If three rings is all it takes to get into Empress Teta, then I'll see you there any year now. I heard the Hall looks favorably on champions who split their rings between playing and coaching," Valerii said, still not releasing Kether's hand.

"I look forward to seeing you at Stoney End again. We'll show you a real good time," Reina said, finally letting go of Gaeriel's hand.

"Can't wait to go 5-0 there on the Kayl'hen Era," Valerii said, still smiling.

It looked like there was one aspect of the rivalry that was a true rivalry.

---

IC: Kerry Trieste
The Grande Villa, Ryell, Rydonni Prime



It was funny how much the Chancellor seemed to find it convenient to do the business of statecraft in conjunction with limmie. In fact, Rurra Eshka'mos had commented that the surest way for an upstart dictator to get the Chancellor's attention wasn't to start making threats with baradium bombs. Instead, they should start a limmie team. "Look, it's true!" Eshka'mos protested to his laughing crowd, "Agamar--that place is the back end of nowhere--" the crowd laughed, "--no objectively it is. I mean I've never been there so I'm sure it's a great place, but it's no Coruscant. However, Kerry Trieste thinks it's the garden spot of the unaffiliated systems because she has an excuse to visit them next year when the Miners play the Packers. And Stewjon is a speck on a map and yet Kerry Trieste cares about this place because she enjoys terrorizing innocent beings like me by having her Miners beat up on my beloved Metropolitans." Rurra stopped and cocked an eyebrow as he thought. "Oh wait...that's right, she's bringing the Miners. I'm pretty sure that if there's one Elite League team that the Metropolitans could beat these days, it's going to be those beings."

Though Rurra plied his trade in comedy, good comedy always had a kernel of truth to it. The Chancellor had declared an official visit to one of her member worlds (it could not be a "state visit" as Rydonni Prime was a member world and state visits were reserved for dealing with systems outside the Republic, but it was the closest thing to a state visit that could be mustered). Unsurprisingly, a fair amount of the Trieste clan was in tow.

Siona and Dorian Lynd had brought all of their children to the game. After all, their eldest daughter was going to be playing today. Undoubtedly this was going to be quite a game for their daughter. Ginnifer Lynd seemed to be peculiarly interested in attending (and her interest in limmie was mainly limited to the fact that it was a great way to see and be seen), but why she wasn't saying. Ronan and Mandy had brought their brood, as had Regan and Atticus. Declan was in attendance and even Ayn had ripped herself away from what was proving a surprisingly competitive race for a seat on the Watercrest County Board of Supervisors to make it. All in all it was going to make for a very crowded box.

Naturally, when the introductions between Rydonni Prime's house of nobles and Bakura's Noble House had been made, the two heads of the households drew together and put some respectful distance between their family members.

"Congratulations, officially, on Ryell's hosting of the Galactic Cup Final," Kerry began, "The Republic is proud to have the Final return to one of our member worlds. I have no doubt that Rydonni Prime will put on one of the finest Finals to date."

The Chancellor paused to take a sip of her drink. "Then again, recent events in the Corellian system are somewhat troubling, and not so far from this system. The Sacorria issue has consumed the Five Worlds recently. We are not so self-absorbed on Coruscant as to completely ignore what happens in the rest of the Core. Luckily, the Diktat seems to be acting reasonably and not getting absorbed in the passions of the moment. I have every confidence that things will be handled peacefully. After all, in the end this would be a classic internal matter in the long-standing definition established by the Republic.

"Did you know that very definition was upheld in court during the Bakuran Civil War? The Maple Flag Republic sued me in Republican court over the blockade I enforced on their own territory. My Attorney General--Kirk Equus, not Helena Tandy, different days you know--successfully argued that our civil war was an internal matter and therefore Republican guarantees of free trade did not apply. The courts agreed with me. That probably shortened the Civil War by years--and it still dragged on too long. Too many lives were lost over bantha-headed pride, Your Highness. Too many lives."

Kerry paused again and drank, her eyes roving across the field where the players below them were warming up. "You know, I realize I've been spectacularly lucky in my political career. I've had great moments of history presented to me. Not everyone is so lucky. Take for example when I decided to run for Chancellor. Our Outer Rim systems on the border with the unaffiliated systems were restless, feeling marginalized. Or maybe they had delusions of grandeur, I don't know. All I know is that when the beings of the Republic found that there was secession afoot, they turned to someone who had stood up against that in her backyard and won. And that's how I became Supreme Chancellor of our fair Republic. The restless systems decided not to test my mettle and I took corrective action to improve things with the Rim Economic Development Act, which has helped our Outer Rim systems to get out of their financial difficulties.

"Luckily, Rydonni Prime doesn't need such assistance. Your defense sector is flourishing these days. Very good paying jobs there, I have no doubt," Kerry said pleasantly, "Though when a system starts stockpiling weapons, a lot of beings tend to start asking why." Kerry paused. "Why...such an excellent and elegant question, don't you think?" Kerry sipped her drink again. and let that set in.

TAG: CPL_Macja (by earlier agreement for some Kerry/Naathe interaction) and Tim Battershell for the slight Agamar reference since I know he loves to pick up on any mention of Agamar

 

IC: Dirxx Horstse
Senator locker room, PreGame vs. Hapes

The Senator season was in limbo. A loss the past two weeks . . . correction . . . blowout losses the past two weeks . . . had pushed the Senators into a winner-take-all scenario for the upcoming game against the Hapes Consortium Buccaneers. The victor would take all the spoils, likely the third playoff berth in the Solo Conference, and the third seed in the playoff bracket. The loser would go home and wonder what would have happened had they done more in the season’s early goings. Games like this were where heroes and scapegoats were made. Seasons continued, seasons ended, tears were shed, both of joy and of disappointment. Such was the way of life in Limmie.

The previous week’s game against Rydonni Prime had easily been the worst game all season. A 37-12 loss on the road was never something a team wanted to have to deal with, but such was life now. Alysha Romax, the Hapan midfielder, had been tossed early on in the game for complaining that she was being tripped by the Monarchs defenders (of which the validity of said complaint was questionable at best), and that had set the tone for the loss. Having the captain thrown out forced everyone else to try and put something out there on the field, but mostly at the expense of others. Jerek Deter, one of the assistant captains, had been strutting his stuff the entire game until he finally got pulled. Pamila Korthe had chewed him out after the game for that half-ass play, and he was now on a short leash in this one, the only thing keeping him afloat here being the fact that the Senators only had one true backup corner back, Pasla Tesh, and he might be needed in case rookie Reid Livingstone needed to be replaced on the other side of the Back 6 zone. The offense had once again been shut down due to coverage, and that had to change in this one.

Now Dirxx had something to say to the team. He had ordered everyone into the locker room before the game and made sure to keep the coaches out. The Besalisk, being a Hall of Fame inductee and former captain, had the respect of the coaches, and was thus allowed to do this prior to the game. The players sat in silence as the Besalisk stared them all down.

“Three games. Three game losing streak. Do you know what that means? That means a loss today will push you out of the playoffs. That means sitting on the couch at home during the playoffs, people. And that’s never a fun experience. I had to do that a few times, and it sucked. I’d much rather be in the playoffs than sitting at home watching them. But the biggest part of that three-game losing streak if you lose today’s game? I want to tell you a little something about this team. During my tenure, when we won all of those games . . . we never, I mean, never, lost three consecutive games. Ever. And you know something? We never did because we got our asses in gear and picked up a win when it counted the most. We gutted out victory from the jaws of defeat, and we kept rolling along.

Now, you look like a bunch of players who don’t think they can pull this off. What a spectacular collapse this will be if you can’t pull off a win today. In a playoff spot three weeks ago, sitting at home at the end of the year. That’s the kind of story that dogs you for the rest of your career, and of your life. You sit back and regret that you didn’t try a little harder, or do something else at a critical moment in the game. And it stings . . . a lot. I’m sure that won’t look good on your résumé, Alysha. If you want to be half as good a captain as I was in my time here, you need to take charge of this team when the game is on the line. Last week, you half-assed it out there and got tossed for complaining. You need to stick it out and make plays for your teammates. You’re a captain for a reason. Now act like it.

And this goes to the rest of you. For those of you who were around last season, how does that Galactic Cup loss feel? Hm? You want revenge, and want to redeem yourselves on the Galaxy’s biggest stage. You want to get to Rydonni Prime and stick it to the Monarchs by winning the Cup on their home turf. Well this kind of performance won’t get that done. You don’t back into the playoffs with blowout losses and expect everything will magically change in a week’s time. The old veterans and I will not be out there to help you along, because this is your team now. And you need to step it up if you want to make the postseason this year, because the C-Bucs certainly won’t let you walk all over them. They have aspirations too. Your job is to go out there, and put the last two weeks aside. This is a new game the last time I checked, and you have 60 minutes, or more if that’s what it takes, to head out to Stoney End next week, most likely, and get a rematch with the Patriots. Yes they beat us two weeks ago, but we can win a rematch. If we win, then we get Ralltiir. We beat them already, blew them out of their own house. And we can do it again. If we win, we get to play for the Cup title, against whoever the Skywalker Conference sends against us. But we almost beat Euceron . . . two measly points, and we win that game . . . we beat Nar Shaddaa . . . we beat Ylesia . . . we can win that title. But it all starts today. If we lose, if you let the pressure get to you, this collapse will go down in infamy as the team that couldn’t finish. And do you really want that as your lasting legacy? I don’t think so.

So get out there and give ‘em hell. Because you can, because you don’t want to lose a third consecutive game, not when this one is for all the marbles. Because you want that Galactic Cup trophy in your hands in four weeks’ time. Because you want to go out of this season as winners. Is that understood? Now show me what you’ve got, because the galaxy is watching.”

When the coaches came back in, many of them wanted to know what Dirxx had said. But the Besalisk remained firm in his approach, and said nothing. His former teammates knew that he had said some choice words from having known him for a while, but the former captain was unmoved. The speech had been for the team, and it would stay that way. Hopefully it would spur them on to victory, because otherwise it would be a long offseason.


TAG: No One

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Meshla Vhetin, Manda'yaim. Final home game of the 274 ELL season.

This was it, it was make or break time for the Mando'ade Mercs. As the season wound down, and the Mercs hosted their final regular season game of the year, their playoff hopes hung by a thread. For them the playoffs had essentially already started, it was time to win or stay home. The stadium, as always, was packed with millions of fans, the colors of their armor blending together into a strange mosaic of color when seen form a distance. They were eager to cheer their team on to victory.

The past two seasons had been relativley successful ones, A trip to the finals, followed up by a one and out playoff appearance last season. It was not all they had hoped for, but it was more than a team like Euceron had tasted in many seasons. The Storm, one of the first teams moved over to the Skywalker Conference when the divisions were announced were a known team to the Mercs, and in seasons past their down the stretch collapses had become to be almost expected, even by their own fans. But that was not to be today.

It was a low scoring game, but as they had all season the Storm maintained control of the game, and their own destiny. When it was all said and done the Mercs had lost 13-8. A fine defensive effort once again wasted by a paltry offense. Taab knew that something would have to be done about that in the off season. But he had larger aiwha to fry right now.

Though he hand't seen the other scores from around the league, with the loss Taab was sure the Mercs were knocked out of playoff contention. They would no longer serve as a distraction from his lack of progress regarding the bombing of MandalMotors Hall. To be honest, he was not sure if it had served as much of a distraction at all. But now, with one game left on the season, and the Mercs certainly playing for nothing but pride, the mando'ade would be...frustrated. It was not a good place for him to be as team owner and mand'alor.


He got his first hint of growing unrest shortly after the game ended, Coach Vizsla entered his office, escorted by his brother Rey'nar. Rey'nar had himself been a candidate for Manda'lor before machinations behind the scenes from Taab and Ordo had eliminated him. now he was looking for another angle to becoming the Mandalorian's supreme leader.

"Coach Vizsla, you bring me a gift on the day your lead our team to defeat. How thoughtful." Taab began, his words dripping with sarcasm. "He is no gift Mand'alor, he brings a warning. And a challenge."

Taab nodded, glancing to the weapon status displays on his HUD. His flame projector was primed, his jetpack fully fueled. He had no rifle or carbine on his person, but he was accomplished at the quick draw, his right hand inched slightly lower toward his belt as he watched for any hostile moves.

"Rey'nar saw this and laughed. "No Taab, not here, and not yet. But I have a strong coalition formed behind me. I suggest you step down. I would hate for our people to be dragged into a civil war because you were too arrogant to recognize that that current events are simply beyond your capacity to rule."

Taab's eyes flashed behind his T-Visor. He knew the investigation was taking longer than anticipated, and perhaps too long for the hot blooded mando'ade, but he wanted to make sure things were done correctly. He thought about killing Rey'nar then and there, to put an end to this attempted power grab. But he knew it would be to no avail. If he did indeed have a powerful coalition behind him, it would certainly spark the very civil war That Taab wanted to prevent.

Instead he issued a challenge of his own. "What would you have me do Rey'nar, lash out like a rapid striil?" He moved his hands away from his holster and saw the pair of Vizslas relax slightly. "The investigation has born much fruit, though I have not released this yet, we know who assassinated Ordo." It was a lie, but it was a simple one. The truth was more complex. Ryi and Kote certainly had their suspicions, but they should receive hard proof once they interrogated their next lead. It should be enough to placate Rey'nar, at least for now.

"I have not released this information yet because our own forces are not yet in place for our counter-strike. But it is coming, and soon."

Rey'nar tilted his head to the side slightly. "Then tell me mand'alor, who did this to us. So I might go back to my supporters and inform them of our imminent glory."

Taab shook his head now. "Tell you, so you can launch your own strike, and win the glory for yourself? Not likely." Taab extended his arm now, "but I will give you this. The war will start at the end of the week. if it does not, I will accept a challenge for one on one combat from you, to decide the future of the mando'ade.

"Rey'nar looked at him suspiciously from behind his own T-Visor, before reaching out and grasping Taab's extended arm. They "shook hands" in the Mandalorian fashion. "One week mand'alor, you had better declare war quickly. The people are anxious for their revenge and as a man of the people i will give it to them if you do not."

"Then we have an accord."

"One week."

The Vizsla's left Taab's office leaving him to ponder just how much more Ryi and Kote could get done before the deadline.

---

IC: Ryi Kor'le
Coronet City, Corellia.

'You still have him?" Kor'le asked over her secure link to Kote. She received two "clicks" back in her buy'ce as she waited on the rooftops along their route. For the past week they has scouted out potential avenues of capture for their man, Colonel East, but had thus far been thwarted. He walked to work, and he rarely took the same route to and from "the campus" on consecutive days, but there were a few choke points though which he always had to travel. Sadly they were all well traveled by other civilians, and the Mandalorians didn't relish the idea of collateral damage on this op. Still time was of the essence, and so Ryi sat atop a rooftop above one of those choke points now, in constant contact with Kote below.

Kote for his part was not in his armor, instead he was playing the part of a tourist, enjoying a vacation on Corellia as would anyone else. He was disguised of course, wearing a wig over his bald head along with false beard and mustache. Truth be told he looked like some sort of very fit homeless person. But it served to at least detract from his similarities to hos brother's famous faces.

He had been following their mark, well following from in front as they knew the man's final destination anyway. He oft times had lost Colonel East, but always regained sight of him within a few minutes as they took slightly different routes to the ambush sight. It was almost time.

Gazing down from her rooftop perch, Ryi could now see Kote and a hundred meters behind him was East. Kote turned down an alleyway now, he would be the trigger man as East passed by. Ryi moved forward slightly, locking onto East with the targeting reticle of her HUD. She prepared herself for what was to come next.

As East passed by Kote, the old Null ARC trooper sprang into action. First he triggered the smoke bombs that the pair of Mandalorians had placed in the sewers beneath the street hours before. Smoke began to pour out of the grates and drains, blanketing the area in dense smoke. Kote lost sight of East at that point, but stuck to the plan calling out "Fire, Fire" as he ran across the street and made his way to the roof. Hearing his cries, pedestrians scattered, running away from what they thought was some sort of conflagration.

Despite Kote losing track of their objective, Ryi's bucket allowed her to see though the smoke on a thermal scan. Her lock on his remained true, and as he tried to escape from the unseen threat she launched herself into the air with her jetpack. Flying down on East like a shreik-hawk after its prey she brought her arm forward and fired her fiber cord whip at the man, ensnaring him, and then applied full thrust to her jetpack as she angled up to gain altitude.

East was yanked off the ground, and brought up into the air with her. Ryi's jetpack, like Kote's, was not really meant to carry two people. But she was much smaller than Kote, and her lesser weight afforded her a bit more leeway in carrying East for a short period of time. She flew over to the roof where Kote was and dropped east at his feet before landing herself nearby.

"Hello ner'vod, we need to chat" Kote told the man as Ryi pointed her left arm, the one equipped with the large flame projector, at him now.

East looked at them dumbly for a moment. "Mandalorians, of course." Then he smiled a knowing smile. "You won't get anything out of me." Kote leaned in closer, "Oh I think you'll talk areutii, in fact I kno..."
But he never finished as bubbles and a slightly acrid smell began to seep out from the corners of East's mouth. Kote grabbed the man by the face, forcing his mouth open. A stream of foam now ran down East's chin and onto his uniform, the missing "false tooth" readily apparent. Kote dropped the man in disgust.

"Poison." Ryi commented.

Kote dropped to a knee now and checked East's vitals. "Yes, and deadly too. He's gone."

"Why kill himself?"

"Because he knew too much, and knew we could get it out of him. It's clear now, as least as clear as it is ever going to be. They did it. The Republic did it."

Ryi shook her head. "Why buy the explosives from an arms dealer, explosives that had been stolen from them in the first place?"

Kote stood up, his eyes had hardened. "Plausable deniability."

Ryi clearly wasn't convinced, but she had nothing left to say. "Let's get rid of this body and get back to the Rogue. We need to report in. Gives you a chance to get back into your beskra'gam anyway. I think that soon you're going to need it.

---

​

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Manda'yaim

Taab slowly turned away from the holo-screen, deactivating it with a stab of his finger. He had just received the latest report from his investigative team. Ryi and Kote and run into yet another dead end. His agents had disposed of the body, but covering their tracks was not what was bothering him. If their report was correct, and he had no reason to believe it wasn't, then soon there would be many dead Republic officers in the streets.

He slammed his fist through the screen now. That hut'uun Kerry Trieste had deceived him. There was no way such an attack wasn't sanctioned first by her office. Then she had the gett'se to come to manda'yaim and offer her hand in friendship. She was a cunning aruetii, and a worthy adversary. But when this was over with he would have her head on a platter, then he would display it on a pike atop MandalMotors Hall, for all mando'ade to see.

Looking to the destroyed holo-screen, Taab activated the comm system in his buy'ce. It was more secure in any case. Thorough it he began to issue orders to Ryi, Kote and the Protectors. They were to begin to make war preparations for action against the Republic. Taab knew that the Republic's military was far larger in scale than the Mandalorian one, they could never hope to win a stand up fight. But attacks against soft targets, as well as military infrastructure, could bring the Republic to it's knees. Or at least damage it enough that they would give into Taab's demands. If not, well the Mandalorians were all warriors, as a people they knew what it would be to fight and die for a cause.

But it would take them a bit of time to finalize their preparations. With the deadline given to Vizsla in mind, Taab informed them that he would give the go codes, along with final targets, following a speech he would broadcast to the Galaxy, scheduled for just after the season ended. Soon Vizsla and the rest of the Mandalorians would have their war, and their revenge. The Galaxy would never be the same again.

TAG: No one.

 

IC: Ava Killenger
Mean Green Stadium, Forrest Heights, Coruscant

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Bam! went the sound as a Duro State player ran into the immovable wall that was Powappa. The senior Wookiee midfielder was not to be moved on this play, as he had been the rest of the game. The ball squirted out and was picked up by a Mean Green defender.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

There was Britranny Gryner, once a top prospect coming out of high school, with the ball as she played “keep away” with the tired DSU forwards. The seconds ticked off as the crowd began to build its crescendo from the stands.

Then the horn sounded, and the game was over. The student section, hanging on the security gates for at least ten minutes, began to spill onto the field in droves, filling up the field fast. That’s what happened when you waited this long for another playoff berth. The CorTech-DSU tilt here had been for all the marbles. The winner was going to make the playoffs, the loser out of the hunt. And now the Mean Green were going to the postseason for the first time since 270.

Ava KIllenger, the local girl from Gillingnet High, only a few miles from Forrest Heights, raised her hands in the air as she joined her teammates in celebration at midfield.



Here she was, a four-year varsity starter, and team captain this past season, now finally getting to taste the playoffs for the first time at the collegiate level. Now gone were three years of frustration, three years of futility as she struggled on defense. She had been a two-way star in high school, and had been recruited as a defender. But she hadn’t done well, and many fans wrote her off as a bust. This season she had played defense less, and was featured on offense more. And it had worked. She hadn’t been perfect, but she flashed the talent that had gotten her this far, and it had driven this team to a playoff spot.

As the students closed in around the team, Ava found her fellow seniors. Britranny, the fiery defender, Powappa, the Wookiee, and a reserve, the four of them knew that they had finished their senior season strong. Martin Locke, the long-time coach who had been on the hot seat for several years now, joined them, congratulating his seniors on a job well done (and likely breathing a sigh of relief that this would help his cause for a contract extension from the school). But this moment belonged to the team, as they celebrated with their fans. Limmie seemed to break all boundaries; the humans hugged the aliens, the seniors and freshmen jumped up and down in ecstasy, and nerds and jocks mingled freely. This win had meant so much to the team and to the school, and Ava was in the middle of it all.

She felt her slight frame being picked up by Powappa, and thus began a ride across the outstretched arms of her teammates. This was the perk of being a captain, and she never thought that she would ever get to take this sort of ride. The last CorTech player to have such an honor, or at least to be carried off the field, was Broody Rootiger, who was still working with the school as a team assistant. Rootiger was a CorTech legend, and to be listed in the same sentence as him was quite the honor.

As Ava whipped her hands around wildly in the air, her eyes looked over to the sideline. Standing there were four figures, each one dressed in matching seafoam and black warmup jackets. Gayla Renhorn, Tank Bratter, Reena Wyley, and Izzi Polakaya, were all standing there, adding in their applause to that of the rest of the stadium. It was then that Ava knew that she had finally arrived here at CorTech; her team was going to be the first to make the playoffs since Renhorn’s squad had taken the Kayl’hen regular season title back in 270. That team had fallen flat in their semifinal game, so it was now up to her, the current captain, to make sure that didn’t happen. It had been drilled into her head from Day One on campus that the Mean Green didn’t have a League title in 83 years. A complete eternity. And now they had the chance to end that streak, to finally show the League and the galaxy that CorTech played good Limmie, and was more than just an academic institution. The number of Elite League entry Draft players had put CorTech on the map, yes, but winning always helped accentuate the process.

Finally Ava’s feet hit the ground again, and she joined her teammates one more time. It was that time of the game to give the fans a final send-off with the refrain of “Venerable Ol’ CorTech U”, the school fight song. But this time the students added their voices to the chorus, and it seemed like the whole stadium rocked as the words came out, one by one. No doubt the media coverage was trying to eat this up. Not only was CorTech playoff-bound, but the energy here was unmistakable, and needed to be shown. The Limmie team hadn’t been this energized since Gayla herself had pushed them to the postseason. And what a run that had been.

After what seemed like ten minutes, and countless refrains, the crowd began to disperse, and the team headed back to their locker room. But waiting outside the tunnel were the four current Senator players, being stoic as usual. Most of the Mean Green players disappeared inside the tunnel to the cheers of the crowd, but Ava heard her name yelled, and she turned around. Morgan Renhorn had also stopped, the sophomore forward getting a hug from her famous older sister.

“Welcome to the playoffs,” Gayla said to her sister.

“Now I just need to win a game, and I’ll be the only one of the three of us to do so.”

“And you’ll rub it in, I bet?” Gayla asked. Morgan nodded. “I’m sure Alex and I will beat you up if you do that too much.”

“Can’t you just let me enjoy my moment of victory?” the college student asked.

“All right. Moment’s over,” Gayla said, grinning wryly. She then mussed up her sister’s hair with a hand. “Enjoy your win. But stay hungry, since next week will be equally difficult.”

Ava then came over, and all attention turned to her. “Not bad,” Gayla said. “Not bad.”

“Thanks?” Ava said, almost questioningly. She had never met the famous Gayla Renhorn, only learning about her from her younger sisters. She had played with Morgan for two years, and the middle Renhorn sister, Alex, for two years as well. Alex wasn’t here, as she was on Thyferra to finish the LFL season against Tatooine, but since the Senators were in town for their season finale, the CorTech grads were able to show up for this game.

“It takes a lot of guts to win in this league,” Tank commented. “And you have those.”

“Now guys, we don’t want to be seen as messing with her, since she’s still a student,” Izzi reminded her teammates. “I don’t want to get caught up in some sort of illegal sales pitch to a student-athlete. But I have a feeling that we’ll be back at some point. Mark my words, Killenger. We will be back, and a contract offer might come. That’s all we can say now.”


“I appreciate that,” Ava replied. Hm, a contract with the Senators? Not bad. But this was not the time for that. Now was a time for celebrating a playoff berth, and a chance to finally put her name on the galactic map. And that road would start here next week against the Air Fleet Academy.


TAG: No One, although this is a heads-up that some of us have college teams that have qualified for the postseason. Check the Wiki for more details.

 

IC: Tim Dodd - Packers' Team Shuttle, en-route to Corellia.

While the game against the Smugglers had been disappointing, at least the 36-20 final score hadn't turned out to be a blowout. Part of the reason for the loss was that the Smugglers had played a far more physical style of Limmie; albeit one that the Referee, officials and even the team members classed as perfectly fair play; than the Packers had encountered before (even against the, toned down, TAU side) and there had been several minor, but debilitating, injuries among the team - all now fully healed, thanks to the 'miracle liquid'!

There hadn't even been much attention paid to the match result in the Agamarian Media due to the successful raid on a planet called Aquaris, which had cleaned out what was thought to be the entire Curr family gang (including Mona Curr herself), being reported on in the local Media the same day.

That operation could have been mistaken for a holo-drama plot (in fact, holo-dramatisation was now being talked about once the legal process had run its course!).

It had started with an Aquaris-based Smuggler ship being snared in a net of tractor beams by the leading flight of ASF Patrol Ships and an (unopposed) boarding action by two squads of TAU troopers. Talking to the ship's Master and crew had revealed the interesting facts that, apart from the Curr gang, none of the Aquaris residents had fallen foul of Agamarian law (or so they claimed), and the Currs had apparently been up to their old tricks in their new nest - becoming thoroughly despised in the process.

Although doing deals with known or suspected criminals wasn't an everyday occurrence on Agamar, it certainly wasn't unheard of either, and the chance to take the Currs unawares far outweighed any offences the other residents might have committed (assuming that they weren't telling the whole truth about their identities or Warrants out on them under Agamarian Law - for some reason, criminals tended not to be entirely open with Security Force personnel about such things!). Therefore, a mutually acceptable accord was quickly reached.

Smuggled into the underwater base during the sleep-cycle, squads of TAU troops (guided by some of the braver, or more disgusted, locals) quickly and silently subdued the gang members that were supposedly on watch (the majority of the gang's ten fatalities occurred during this stage, victims of laser-sniper fire) before moving in on the rest of the gang members.

Multiple frame and breaching charges (loaded 'P for Plenty' instead of the usual 'E for Enough') were brought into play to gain access to the gang's area, followed by liberal quantities of 'stun-dazzle' and coma-gas grenades (to deafen. blind, disorient and sedate the defenders) then followed-up by an old-fashioned forced-entry assault - no fancy moves like Thrust-Sailer insertion onto the roof or Zip-line deployments on this one, there just wasn't room to use them - bagged almost all the rest of the gang. A ten minute 'search and mop-up' phase completed the operation, with only a few Blaster-grazed Officers (all minor injuries) as friendly casualties.

Inside of three hours the Strike Force (their numbers now swelled by forty, very surprised, prisoners in stun-cuffs and ten corpses) and well laden with the gang's computers, loot, clothing and other evidence, was on its way back to Agamar from a (by now) thoroughly wide-awake Smuggler and Pirate base! Not that the corpses completed the journey. Once they had been holographed, fingerprinted, DNA sampled and thoroughly scanned, they were unceremoniously spaced; being then just unnecessary mass and volume, not to mention a strain on the air-purification systems!

All in all, an almost textbook-perfect mission.

Passing unnoticed (except to ASF) amid the welter of column-centimetres and punditry attendant upon the raid's aftermath was a Thrust-Sailer incident. The 'Thrust' part of the system had failed, leaving the operator no choice but to use the 'Sailer' part of it as a parachute - terminating his abbreviated flight right down one of the landbridge holes caused during the Clone Wars of three centuries ago. Rescuing the hapless flyer was routine, finding a (fairly) fresh corpse, and a specialised piece of survey equipment, on top of the litter of 'Scarhead' and 'collaborator' bones was not!

If Tim heard about that incident at all, it failed to excite his interest at the time. His interest being focused on the Packers' final game of the conventional Limmie Season, against the Corellia Rebels.


TAG: Trieste

 

GM Post

And here we are. The first week 9 of the regular season in this game's history. So let's get right down to it. Bonus rolls to Agamar, Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, and Ralltiir.

Week 9 Results
Agamar Packers at Corellia Rebels (29-17)
Mando’ade Mercs at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (30-27)
Euceron Storm at Ylesia Lightning (30-18)
Chandrila Patriots at Ralltiir Starkillers (24-24, OT 29-28)
Hapes Consortium Buccaneers at Coruscant Senators (34-37)
Bakura Miners at Rydonni Prime Monarchs (39-34)

FINAL STANDINGS
Skywalker Conference

1. Euceron Storm [jcgoble3, Zay Antilles (fan)] (7-2, conf. 4-1)
2. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers [Vehn, Kaitlyn Vehn (owner)] (4-5 conf. 3-2)
3. Ylesia Lightning [Rebecca_Daniels, Zoa Vra (player)] (4-5, conf. 2-3)
4. Agamar Packers [Tim Battershell, Tim Dodd (owner)] (4-5, conf 2-3)
5. Mando'ade Mercs [Bardan_Jusik, Beskaryc Taab (owner)] (4-5, conf 2-3)
6. Corellia Rebels (3-6, conf 2-3)

Solo Conference

1. Ralltiir Starkillers [Runjedirun, Lucie Vigo (cheerleader)] (7-2, conf. 3-2)
2. Chandrila Patriots (6-3, conf. 3-2)
3. Coruscant Senators [Jedi Gunny, Gark S'rily (general manager)] (5-4, conf. 3-2)
4. Bakura Miners [Trieste, Falene Trieste (player)] (4-5, conf. 3-2)
5. Hapes Consortium Buccaneers (4-5, conf. 1-4)
6. Rydonni Prime Monarchs [CPL_Macja, Setarcos Rhemes (head coach & GM)/Vesper Lynd (player)] (2-7, conf. 2-3)

In the Skywalker Conference, the 4-5, conference record 2-3 tiebreak was further tied up by the fact that in head-to-head play between those three teams, all three were 1-1. Therefore, point differential was used to determine standing. Ylesia's +12 trumped Agamar's -3 and Mando'ade's -54.

Euceron wins the Commissioner's trophy based on a superior conference record and is guaranteed home field standing throughout the playoffs.

Galactic Cup Playoffs
Conference Semifinals
(3) Ylesia Lightning at (2) Nar Shaddaa Smugglers
(3) Coruscant Seantors at (2) Chandrila Patriots

Conference Finals
??? at (1) Euceron Storm
??? at (1) Ralltiir Starkillers

---

With the regular season done, you have one week to do the following:

1. Send me all nominations for this year's season awards. A list of them and what each one recognizes can be consulted in this season's post in the library thread. I do my best to take into consideration all nominations, within reason (for example, if you were to nominate Falene Trieste for rookie of the year, I doubt I would put it on because she was on the third worst defense this year).
2. Fill out the following ballot for the all-star game for BOTH conferences:

• Head coach:
• Goalkeeper:
• Defender:
• Defender:
• Defender:
• Midfielder:
• Forward:
• Forward:
• Forward:

I have decided to allow everyone flexibility, I will not force you into left/center/right forward and defense. All-star teams will be announced with the Conference Semifinal results next week, as will the season award ballot.

Draft order for non-playoff teams will be announced later today. Spoiler alert: Rydonni Prime will have the number one overall pick if they participate.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

---

P.S. For those who care, the Bak10 champions are, sadly, the University of Bakura, Telaan Valley Pionners.

 

GM Clarification

Apologies, I forgot two things in the above post related to all-star balloting:

1. Fill our a ballot for EACH conference, not one for both.
2. You are not allowed to vote for your own players.

See why this is a little difficult?

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn



Smugglers Locker Room, Post Game

Kaitlyn watched as her players trudged into the locker room, heads hung low, eyes downcast, figuring that the season had just ended and they would be watching the playoffs from the safety of their homes. She had seen this look before from teams who had given their all and it still wasn’t enough. Today, the Smugglers had lost. Under normal circumstances they would be sitting at home watching other teams chase that silver chalice. But this year was different. This year the Smugglers had fought tooth and nail in their conference to scratch out a 3-2 conference record against some very strong teams and had secured a playoff berth at home against the Ylesia Lightning next week. And when she told the team the good news, well, the locker room erupted in a frenzy of laughter, slaps on the back, and hugs.

There was Gargova Brousard, traded along with Beck Thornton from the Mercs, part of the very powerful Smuggler offense. The dark haired beauty had earned her stripes this season putting up a career best. Vick McTodd had helped bring along the rookies Sorcha Styles and Julius Winifred and made them solid contributors to the potent Smuggler attack. And then there was the defense, that bend but don’t break defense, that had been anchored by Roz Cartel, Ike Tullo, Ken Zetter, and so many young athletes who had shown flashes all season long that yes, in time, they could be great as well.

They were still alive. Miraculously, the team that had been written off at the start of this season as another rebuild and had finished with a losing record was in it for one more fight, one more round. And that had been the story of the 274 Smugglers. The team that bent over backwards but never let opponents walk all over them, the team that the media said was being run down the drain by a woman who had never run a professional sporting franchise in her life, the team that couldn’t had suddenly become the team that could.

Kaitlyn loved her players, loved this team, loved its history, and had slowly grown to love the city in which this team dwelled. She could remember her exile to Nar Shaddaa months ago. Remembered how much she hated this city, this team, the entire thought of sinking her money to help those who refused to help themselves. But something about this city, this stadium, being around the real people of the galaxy, had changed her. Suddenly, worlds fused together, blended, into something that Kaitlyn hadn’t quite expected.

She suddenly cared about the downtrodden, those who struggled, those who had very little, and helping them had become something of point of redemption for her. She no longer looked at the working poor as under-appreciated losers. She looked at them like anyone would want to be truly looked at: as a sentient being. So she’d gone ahead and funded the new sports stadium. She’d gone ahead and made even more considerable donations to the Valor Foundation. She’d gone ahead and nearly blown all the money she ever had on this city, this city of sin, this city of eternal hope, this city of light. This city that had taught Kaitlyn more about living, about what really mattered, than any credit she’d ever earned in a board meeting, any war she had ever helped to win against a rogue Tribune of the RTO.

Her datapad vibrated. She stepped out into the hall and took the call.

“This is Kaitlyn,” she said.

“Consider your honor restored,” a voice at the other end said.

“Does that mean—“ Kaitlyn began to ask.

“You know what it means and I hope you realize just what I’ve sacrificed to get you what you wanted,” the voice replied and hung up.

Kaitlyn crossed her arms, slid down the sleek tunnel wall, and looked up at the thick metal pipes that ran the length of the tunnel. What a year this had been. She’d been exiled from Druckenwell, from the RTO, from the world that she loved, from the life that she had once thought would never go away. But it had. That life was gone, ripped away from her by the petty concerns of the business world of the RTO. She’d lost her son, lost her husband, lost her respect and reputation. But one thing she had never lost was her belief that she could one day return home.

The journey back home had started with buying the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers and twisted and turned its way through the 274 season. And now the Smugglers were in the playoffs gunning hard for that Final, that magical tenth Cup. But the journey was far from complete. That journey, the journey that really mattered, was only just beginning.

So today she had every reason to smile.

Today she had every reason to hope.

Today she knew that she was well on her way to seeing her son and husband again.

Today was the day that Kaitlyn Vehn, owner of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, found out that she was cleared of all charges against her and was allowed to return home.

Tag: No One

 

IC: Naathe K’ntarr
Rydonni Prime, Blue and Gold Bowl

The Queen listened as the career politician rattled off her resume in an attempt to vale her threats. Naathe and Telandro both knew that their actions would draw the attention of the Republic so she was ready for all the questions. “Well you see Chancellor, this isn’t so much a secession as a mutual resolution to an internal affair. I have personally spoke with the Diktat and have been given assurances that once Telandro and I wed Saccoria will be allowed the same liberties that Byblos and Loronar have enjoyed for generations. The best way to think about it is that the Republic will be gaining another member system.”

The Queen paused and took a sip from her flute before addressing the issue of their increased production. “I don’t agree with the terminology of stockpiling. We are a weapons manufacturer and only produce enough supply to meet with demand. With all the various internal conflicts brewing throughout the galaxy, several systems have contracted us to supply them with our latest SP-590 series droids to augment their planetary defense and civil police departments. Certainly you can understand that some of our clients would like to maintain a specific level of anonymity.”

She looked over at the chronometer on the wall and saw that the time for pregame festivities had arrived. “Now, Madam Chancellor, if I could direct your attention to the middle of the field the Ryell Boys Choir has prepared something special for you.” Down on the field nearly one thousand young men ranging in age from adolescents to teenagers had gathered in a semi-circle formation around a middle-aged gentleman. The stadium PA announcer called everyone’s attention to the group and explained that they were about to perform a newly composed song specifically written for the Chancellor’s visit.

Allseeing and allhearing Zov, great heav'nly voice, divine,
We pray our voices, raised as one, may be attuned to thine.
As we sing out a century of song with joyful air,
And sing another century in, This is our humble prayer.
Allfather, Bless Kerry Trieste,
Oh keep her strong and good.
May her brave songs fly 'round the stars on wings of brotherhood.
Inspire our songs of loyalty, And may thy blessing be On Naathe,
Dear Naathe, Our Queen of Rydonni.

As the crowd cheered the Queen explained to the Chancellor that Zov was the king of their pantheon of gods, the Rythanians. Most Rydonnians prayed to him to guide their leadership, not only politically, but also personally and sometimes corporately. So to have him mentioned in the same breath as the Chancellor was an extreme honor. Once the crowd had settled down the Choir once again started singing, but unlike the last song, every Monarchs fan knew this one and joined in.

Cheer Rydonni onto victory, Ev'ry one on ev'ry play.
Rydonni expects her Limmie to win today!
Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!
Win for Rydonni!
Limmie, Down the field.
Never yield, Raise high our shield.
March on to victory for Rydonni,
And the Gold and Blue
Oh Rydonni, We're for you,
Here for you to cheer for you.
We have no fear for you. Oh Rydonni!

With that the choir cleared off the field. The PA announcer’s voice once again sounded throughout the stadium and introduced the visiting Bakura Miners. Unlike last season, when the Monarch faithful were hanging banners cheering on the Miners in the final game, the Rydonni Prime fan-base booed as soon as the Miners hit the field. The unique thing about the Miners was that they were wearing their home uniforms. A mutual agreement between teams allowed for the two teams to wear their home colors, Blue and Gold. As the fight song for the Monarchs blared though the stadium the Monarchs took the field in slightly redesigned throwback uniform.



The eighth meeting of the Blue & Gold Bowl was once again underway.

TAG: Trieste

 

Sub-GM Post

Bonus rolls this week to (points in parentheses): Concordia (28), Druckenwell (28), Byblos (28), Tatooine (28), Thyferra (32).

Limmie Futures League
Week 8
Kashyyyk Rangers at Concordia Crusaders (6–26)
Commenor Gundarks at Druckenwell Marksmen (3–11)
Kamino Waves at Byblos Red Wings (13–18)
Tatooine Sandskimmers at Thyferra Force (25–8)

Final Standings
1. Byblos Red Wings (6–1)
2. Druckenwell Marksmen (5–2)
3. Commenor Gundarks (4–3)
4. Concordia Crusaders (4–3)
5. Kashyyyk Rangers (3–4)
6. Kamino Waves (3–4)
7. Tatooine Sandskimmers (2–5)
8. Thyferra Force (1–6)

Tiebreakers:
4–3: Commenor defeated Concordia in Week 2.
3–4: Kashyyyk defeated Kamino in Week 2.

Playoffs

Consolation Semifinals
(8) Thyferra Force at (5) Kashyyyk Rangers
(7) Tatooine Sandskimmers at (6) Kamino Waves
Futures Cup Semifinals
(4) Concordia Crusaders at (1) Byblos Red Wings
(3) Commenor Gundarks at (2) Druckenwell Marksmen

REMINDER to all teams that the Futures League is off next week (September 15). Playoffs will begin on September 22, the week of the Galactic Cup Conference Championship Games.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik Vehn Runjedirun Rebecca_Daniels Jedi Gunny CPL_Macja

 

Part 1 of 3

IC: Beskaryc Taab
MandalMotors Hall, Keldabe, manda'yaim.

The news had gone out, spreading across mand'yaim, and the galaxy, like wildfire. The mand'alor was to speak,to address the assassination of his predecessor and if rumor was right, to announce at long last the Mandalorian response.

Throngs of Mandalorians had responded to these rumors, filling the square outside of MandalMotors Hall. There they waited for their mand'alor to order them to war. Security was naturally tight, but it didn't deter them as more seemed to show up every minute, quickly overwhelming the teams of Protectors assigned to ensure the safety of the current mand'alor. Within the Hall Taab received final confirmation that his forces were in place, ready to stream into Republic territory and strike at their assigned targets. It was to be a display of shock and awe, one that would quickly demoralize the citizens of the Republic so that they might give in to Taab's demands.

Taab knew, as did every Mandalorian that they couldn't hope to sustain a prolonged war against the forces of the Republic, but they could win a quick war if their victories were overwhelming enough. He also knew that in order to stake a claim to the moral high ground in the upcoming conflict, they would not attack until he himself declared war. It was the only honorable way to start the war, an honor the hut'uune of the Republic had not afforded the Mando'ade when they had assassinated Ordo.

Confident now that his forces were in place, and that they would await his final word he looked to the others in the room with him. The clan leaders were all here of course, Ray'nar Vizsla among them. The gleam in his eye betrayed his glee at this moment. Either he expected that Taab would renege on his agreement, allowing his to challenge for leadership, or he anticipated the war to come, and the glorious victories to be had. Sadly Taab's own wife, Aay'han Vhett was not. Though she knew of Taab's intentions, she had elected to go to Nar Shaddaa to oversee the final game of the Mercs season, and ensure their safe return.

Taab sighed now as he placed his buy'ce over his head and walked out onto the balcony, the same balcony that been the site of Ordo's death. The crowd roared and beat their chest plates at the sight of him, chanting his name. Raising his arms skyward he quieted them, though their energy could still be felt from his perch. He spoke now, to them and the floating holo-cams that would bring his address galaxy wide.

"Mando'ade, as you all know there is a stain on our honor. A stain that has torn at out very souls since the cowardly assassination of Mand'alor Ordo. It is a stain that can only be washed away by the blood of the aruetiise who did this to us. A stain that I have promised will be forever lifted from us." The crowd cheered even more loudly know, some in the crowd could be heard crying out "a stain, a stain". Taab continued on.

"The investigation into this matter has been a long one, but it has at long last born fruit. In due time, I will reveal all that we have learned, to justify the acts that we have been forced to take today. For today we will declare war on our enemies and bring victory and honor back to the mando'ade. Today I will call upon chancellor Kerry Trieste..."

---

IC: Ryi Kor'le
Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa. Several hours earlier.

"You think this will actually get us anywhere?" Kote asked his wife as they entered the rundown old club reportedly owned by Pza the Hutt. "It's the only lead we have left, and something about all of this doesn;' add up." Ryi replied over their secure comm-link. The pair entered the club, clad once again in their standard beskar'gam, ready to take on any problems that might arise.

"Taab seems pretty happy with the answers we already gave him, rumor has it he is supposed to speak on this later today."

"Yeah, and I'll give you one guess as to what that might be about. We need to hurry."

Kote nodded at that as they began to survey what they saw inside. It wasn't very crowded, many of the normal patrons must be attending the meshgeroya match or else still sleeping. The place seemed to cater to that "night time" clientele to Ryi's T-Visor anyway. Still there were enough "patrons" populating the place that their target here was immediately visible. Those patrons seemed to be mostly criminal types. Death Stick dealers, smugglers, petty thieves. Ryi and Kote felt right at home.

"So do we split up and look or just ask at the bar?"

Kote mulled it over and was about to give a response when an employee interrupted him. "Mandalorians? We haven't seen much of your kind around here since the problems started over there." Ryi looked the Weequay over. He appeared to be a bouncer or enforcer of some kind. A good sign. "His excellency will see you now. Follow me."

Kote looked over at Ryi, and even though she couldn;t see his face she knew the mirthful look thaty would be on his face. "Well that was easy" he whispered to her over their link. They followed the enforcer towards the back of the bar, and through a set of curtains that parted for them as soon as the trio arrived. Stepping through Ryi saw who they had come for.

Sitting up on a raised dais was Pza the Hutt, a minor crime lord who held little to no sway with the Kajidics. He laughed exuberantly at their presence and started in on them. "Good, Mandalorians. I need Mandalorians. You are looking for work?" Ryio and Kote shared a look through their T-Visors. This Hutt wasn't even speaking to them through an interpreter, he must really be down on his luck. Ryi took the lead, they would let this play out before asking their own questions of the Hutt "of course, always looking for work. What's the job?

Pza laughed again as he ran his tongue over his lips. "So eager the two of you are. I have a job that requires your kind, but you have all run back home to your new leader."

Kote responded this time. "Money is more important to us than patriotism, what's the job?

That disgusting tongue poked out again, Ryi was sorely tempted to slice it off. "I was forced to kill my last Mandalorian, when he got sloppy. You two aren't sloppy are you?"

"We're the real deal, and professional as they come. But you're trying our patience, what's the job?"

"Fine, I will tell you. I have a client that wants a very very important person eliminated. Says you Mandalorians are the only ones that can get the job done."

"The target?"

"My client wants you to kill the Chancellor of the Republic, loudly. I have explosives for you, leftovers from the...a similar job my Mandalorian carried out for me."

That was enough for Ryi and Kote. This..thing had been involved in the assassination of Ordo, and it would pay the price. But not before telling them more.

"And the client?"

"HO HO HO HO" the Hutt laughed. "The client wants to remain safely, anonymous. You will be well payed, that is all that should matter to you."

Ryi and Kote both knew that was all they would get from the Hutt, at least voluntarily. They sprang into action. Kote quickly drew the pair of blaster pistols from their holsters and pumped a few shots into the nearby enforcers. While Ryi took a blade to the gut of the Weequay that had led them back here. Within moments the mandalorians were alone with Pza, kote moved to cover the curtained off entrance while Ryi moved in closer to the Hutt.

"You are going to die, hut'uun" she showed him the blade still slick with the Weequay's blood. "But you get to determine how painful that death is. Tell us what you know."

The Hutt's eyes grew wide, and it looked as though he would remain silents until Ryi started in on his tail, slowly carving into it with her knife. The high pitched wail from Pza followed quickly by his exclamations of "I'll talk, I'll talk" brought her cutting to a halt.

"The client is some sort of lizard, I don't know the species. He has an estate near here. Heavily guarded, you'll never get in."

"And your Mandalorian? He better not have been a friend of ours."

"The Hutt started panting loudly. "He wasn't even real. Just a twi'lek with a set of fake armor. Says he bought it on the black market just for this job. I had to kill him. Republic Intel on Corellia was getting too close!"

"Hmmm, and just where is this estate? We want to get more acquainted with this lizard of yours." The Hutt, defeated now, told them where it was. Ryi retracted the bloodied blade into her gauntlet. "will you let me li..." A blaster shot rang out from Kote, the bolt ending the Hutt's question and his life. "No, we wont."

"The place is clear, everyone ran at the sound of blaster fire. Guess no one wanted to risk their life for stinky here."

Ryi nodded. "Good. We should tell Taab." Kote shook his head. "We have no proof yet. You know what kind of pressure he is under right now. We are going to need more proof than a dead Hutt before it will sway him." Ryi sullenly nodded her agreement as she brought up a map of Vertical City on her HUD, noting the location of the Lizard's hideout.. "This place will be a tough nut to crack, and you can bet if this lizard is the one responsible for the attack he won't just let us in the front door."

It was Kote's turn to nod now. "It's going to take an army to get in there."

"Yeah it will." Ryi smiled behind her T-Visor, "and I know just where to find one. Come on!"

To be continued...

OOC: The Vertical City portions of this post have been approved by Vehn, many thanks go out to him for allowing me to place the penultimate events of this storyline on his world. This post has been divided into three parts to help add to the suspense and also to break it up a bit for everyone reading it. Part 2 (which will actually delve a little into the game action of the Mercs 30-27 win over the Smugglers) should come tomorrow.

 

IC: Gark S’rily
Bursya Field at Andromeda Steel Corp. Stadium

The drive to the playoffs in the Solo Conference was going to come down to this game. The Hapes Consortium Buccaneers were coming to the galactic capital to face off against the hometown Coruscant Senators. As had been reviewed endlessly by media pundits all over the galaxy, the winner of this game would earn the last Solo Conference playoff berth. The loser would go home and contemplate what could have been had they played a little harder here, or maybe during the rest of the season. But that didn’t matter now. What did matter was winning this game.

Gark was sitting in the box by himself today. Galin had come down with the flu this past week, and Me’lin was at home tending to the child’s needs as he recovered. The doctors said that it wasn’t serious, but it would take at least a week for the young boy to get over the illness. So here Gark sat, surrounded by team brass, back like it had been in the olden days. Back when he was new to this whole Limmie thing, back when his personal life wasn’t so hectic, back when he was just a company executive, before the superhero antics, before the family, before the Galactic Cup titles. It was weird to put all that aside and just be here for a Limmie game, because those had usually been the least of his problems over the last few seasons.

The playoff implications aside, this game also had some interesting storylines to it that were of less concern, at least to the casual fan. This was Hapes’ first trip to Coruscant for Limmie in a long time; the C-Bucs had been here before, but perhaps those trips had been back to the BlasTech Gikosphere, now long gone. Yes it was unnerving to most of the galaxy that the Hapans had a matriarchal society, and that their team was all-female. Of course, this didn’t seem to bother the adolescent males of the galaxy, who instead gawked at the C-Bucs during games. But this would also be an interesting game to watch because it would be the first time the Senators’ open Hapan players would get to play against their own kin on the Limmie field. Alysha Romax, the team captain at midfielder, had played college ball at the Royal College of Hapes, but hadn’t been given an offer to play for the C-Bucs after her college career. Back in those days, she had played mostly forward, with a little bit of midfield mixed in. She had spent her time in the Consortium Juniors before college, so she fully expected to get a contract offer from the hometown team. But none came, and when the chance to play in the Elite League arrived in the form of Allie Orchetrada, then the head coach of the Senators, and current offensive coordinator, and former Senator Adanna Inviere, Alysha had taken her chances and moved to Coruscant. A lot had been made of this game for her, and her reply had been rather stoic: “I look forward to playing against them” was mostly what she said in response to media questions. Reena Wyley was also in this category, but she had been on Coruscant for college, so she didn’t have as much of a connection to the Consortium as Alysha did.

Then the game began. It was clear that this one was going to be close, as neither team gave an inch that they didn’t recover minutes later. The C-Bucs tallied a goal early on as Wai Lin, the Hapan captain, beat Jayla Leed on a pump fake and buried a shot in the back of the net. The Senators took the ball down to the other end, and got it into the hands of Max Qorbus. The Nautolan, enjoying a height advantage over his matchup, Kissy Suzuki, who had rotated over to cover the Senator corner forward, backed down in the post before slinging it back out wide to Dauza Chary. The rookie Center Half Forward then scanned the field again before tossing it to Max one more time. This time Max didn’t hesitate. He pivoted his foot and shot around Suzuki to come to the goal. The ball left his hand and skipped into the goal for three points.

The teams traded bar points, the C-Bucs getting a few scores here and there, and the Senators countering with a Qorbus bar point, one from Wylega Persnor, and from backup forward Rayel Edare, who had come in to spell Dauza for a minute. With the score 6 all, the C-Bucs made a charge into the offensive zone. Lin tossed it to a teammate, who was then buried under by Myles Tormera, the Zeltron Half Back, and lost the ball. Quickly the Senators pounced on the loose ball, Ortho Dyhon feeding Alysha with a pass. The captain sidestepped Honey Ryder and then slung the ball to Gayla Renhorn, who fended off her matchup and passed to Demetra Silkins, who was loitering on the wing. The “rover” midfielder took the ball and charged up the field. A nice block at shoulder level from Wylega Persnor set the third-year midfielder free, and then her path was cleared as Riff Persnor flew in from the side to take out Domino Derval, who had been clogging the lane. Demetra put on the jets and flew into the goal area. There was nothing the C-Bucs could do, and they quickly found themselves down as Demetra burned a shot into the back of the net. 9-6 Senators.

The scoring continued through halftime. A Lin goal was countered by Bel Erein, the Mon Calamari full forward, scoring her first points of the season on a goal, then another trade-off of goals with the C-Bucs getting one and Max Qorbus beating the defense for a three-point conversion. It was 20-20 at halftime, which meant that there was no defense whatsoever. Gark was unsure about this defense he had put together; they had been solid against Ralltiir, which had run away with most of its games this season due to a prolific offense, but then they had tanked the last two weeks on defense, and this one was shaping up to be a shootout as well. Someone needed to get those defenders fired up, because defense was what could cost this team a chance at the playoffs. The offense was no problem, as they were capable of lighting up the scoreboard, but the defense needed help.

The second half started out about the same, with a Maff Biskis goal for Coruscant being negated by a C-Bucs goal. Then the C-Bucs scored a bar point, beating Salata to the spot before the forward threw a ball over the bar for a point, followed by another goal. Demetra buried a goal on the other end to cut the deficit to 1, but then Hapes came back minutes later with another goal. Salata once again was out of position to make a play on the ballcarrier, and Pam Korthe disgustedly pulled the Wookiee out of the game. The Wookiee was a reserve, so it didn’t cost the team too much, but on the other hand, it put pressure on the rest of the defense to be up to the task. Jayla wasn’t good at all in goal, but neither was her counterpart for the C-Bucs, so at least it wasn’t a complete wash for the 271 Helmsman nominee like the last two weeks had been. Gark pondered what to do with Leed during the offseason, but a C-Bucs score snapped his mind out of it.

And then the C-Bucs began to pull away. Cord McKerty made a terrible mistake by pushing the pile forwards for extra yardage, and the ball popped free of his grasp. The C-Bucs ran quickly the other direction, catching the Senator defense on its heels. Wai Lin once again made a Senator defender look foolish, dodging a weak arm tackle and charging forwards. She passed it off to the wing, where Jinx Johnson then rocketed a shot past Leed to push Hapes up by seven.

With four minutes left, the crowd was completely out of the game. The Senators were trailing 34-28, and things looked hopeless. The C-Bucs defense had stiffened in the last fifteen minutes, and were keeping the Senators on the outside of the offensive zone. Pam called a timeout, and her players huddled around her. Gark knew exactly what she was saying down there, as he had once been a coach and knew what he would be iterating in that conversation. Now they just needed to execute that gameplan.

Out of the timeout, the Senators attacked. Using Qorbus as a decoy, they ran the Nautolan around the corner to draw the defense before sending Riff into the scrum with the ball. The Cathar busted through a tackle and then beat the goalie with a nice shot into the net. 34-31 C-Bucs.

Hapes moved the ball into their side of the field. Tilly Masterson tried to pass it off, but the throw was picked off by Jerek Deter. The corner back had been playing far forward of where he usually roamed, and hadn’t bit on the pump fake. Masterson hadn’t even seen him on the play. Jerek then threw the ball into the middle of the field, Alysha fighting for position with Ryder. As the ball came down, Alysha jumped into the air to claim the pass, but was roughly brought down to the ground. Ryder tried to rip the ball away, but Gayla came in and smashed her from the side to take her down, allowing Alysha to prop herself up on her elbow. She then skittered the ball to Demetra, who initiated the offense. The rover passed off to Riff, who passed it back on the give-and-go route. Demetra was hit in stride on her post route, and got behind the defense that Hapes had set up. It was now her against the goalie. She moved her arm back to make the shot . . . but then the ball popped free as a last-second gasp attempt from Suzuki knocked the ball free. It hit the turf, and the scrum ensued for the ball. Somehow Riff came up with the ball, and he kicked it just off the diving fingers of a Hapes defender. The ball’s travel was affected by this contact, but still had enough juice on it to hit the side of the net and pass the goal line. Tie game.

Both teams fought for possession for the next few minutes, but the score remained unchanged. 34 all, the scoreboard read, with twenty seconds remaining. It looked like overtime was a certainty in this situation, but the Senators wanted to go for the kill. A scrum ball got to Alysha, and she called timeout to the ref. Fifteen seconds left.

The team huddled around their coach, who drew up a final play to try and score. There was no reason to go for a goal if it wasn’t inviting, Gark knew. All they needed was a point over the bar. Thus, Hapes would likely stack a 4-2 zone or something of the ilk to guard the outside attack options the Senators had. Given that a wayward ball could still go over the bar, the C-Bucs were going to stack the middle of the field to try and prevent a breakout in the backfield and better shot opportunity. As such, the C-Bucs started to sub in midfielders and defenders, trying to get as many bodies in as they could to stonewall the Senators and send this thing to overtime. There would be no C-Bucs counterattack; they knew that a stop here would keep them alive, and they wouldn’t get the ball back in regulation.

When play resumed, Demetra tried to pass the ball in over the taller Hapan defender. The ball hit the woman’s hand and then skittered onto the field. All of the players in the middle of the field went for the ball. Alysha kicked the ball away to clear it . . . or perhaps not. There was one player who hadn’t joined the scrum. Gayla Renhorn had broken through the Hapan defensive zone and now gathered the kick. The Hapan defensive zone was all clear except for the goalie. Eight seconds.

Everything went into slow motion. Gayla’s eyes flickered up to the bar; she could end this was a shot over that. But could she get a goal here? She looked down at the goal; the goalie was right there to make a play. Gayla drop-kicked the ball, trying to drive it over the bar. But the kick landed more on her ankle than on the toe of her cleat, and she sent a low line drive. Everyone in the stadium, along with those watching across the galaxy, saw the ball fly through the air . . . straight into the upper reaches of the net. And then the horn sounded. Game over.



Gayla paused for a second after the ball hit the net before the realization of the moment hit her. Oh, and that off her teammates mobbing her from behind. She quickly found herself in the middle of the celebration, and over the PA system were heard the strains of “Wild Thing”, as she had become known to the Senator faithful. The crowd was going berserk, complete strangers hugging each other and high-fiving. All the while, the words “Coruscant Senators – 274 Playoff Bound” showed on the stadium jumbo screens. It wasn’t like winning a Galactic Cup title, Gark thought as he celebrated up in the owner’s box, but it certainly was a big win. Not only did the team bounce back in a big way, but they found a way to pull it out in the end when things got desperate. And that’s what mattered.

The Senators were playoff-bound, and the galactic capital had a reason to celebrate tonight.

---

IC: Cord McKerty

Cord watched from the scrum as Gayla kicked the ball on a line drive. He had been inserted into the game for this play, and then promptly flipped over by a diving Hapan player. As he lay partially on someone’s arm and with his feet up in the air, he watched the world upside-down as Gayla’s goal rocketed into the back of the net.

They had done it. They had won this game, and were going to the playoffs. Cord landed hard, yes, but then he joined his teammates in mobbing Gayla where she stood, celebrating this win. He was going to the playoffs for the first time in his career, not bad for a rookie. And he had done what he could to help the team along.


Cord McKerty was headed to the postseason. And he was going to be ready for it.

TAG: No One

 

IC: Tim Dodd - Visiting Owner's Box, Solo Stadium, Corellia.

It seemed that news of the operation against the Curr gang had received much wider coverage than anyone on Agamar had thought! On landing, the Shuttle had been met by a group of Corellian Security Force dignitaries (including their Director). Tim now had a whole pile of personal congratulations on a job well done to relay to Oleg! Additionally a request for an exchange program between the two Security Forces (and between their respective Academies) was to be made through official channels.

Asked about the drugging investigation, he told them that the investigation hadn't stalled; it was just taking a long time to go through the virtual mountain of evidence to find, what he now understood ASF's thinking to be, the crazy lone-vulpine responsible.

While the team were whisked away to the Stadium aboard CSF transport, Tim was given a guided tour of Coronet City. Treasure Ship Row, he was told, was now a far tamer (but much safer) area than it had been in the dark times, even if it hadn't lost much of its notoriety as a result. Tim was glad to see public parks, and even happier to hear that much of the planet was still in a rural state.

Arriving at the Stadium, Tim politely declined an invitation to watch the game from the Owner's Box (citing emotional scars from what had happened the last time he had done so)!

The inclusion of a Wookiee in the Rebels' lineup dictated the use of the 'Charging Bantha' play again - but this time the Packer's other players seemed to have got used to being in their reshuffled positions. The final score showed an almost two-to-one ratio of Full-Goals (nine against five) and parity in 'Over-the Bar' scores (two for each team). Asyr seemed to have instructed the team not to let the Wookiee (Ferreena) or the Rebels' Noghri (Kakkralh) have access to the ball, generally by tackling the human-sized players in the chain before the ball reached either. When it worked, it worked; when it didn't, the Rebels tended to score! The one fly in that unguent was the Selonian (Jayra Korbette); like Saba and Baraduc, she could (and did) use her tail as a fifth limb, when required!

Tim knew that neither the win, nor the adjustment provided by the 29-17 Point differential would be enough to propel the Packers into the play-offs unless something ultra-dramatic happened, but he was satisfied with the Season. In any case, he didn't think that the team was ready to contest the Galactic Cup of Limmie yet. It was enough that his (virtually scratch) team, with very little preparation time, had made the transition to the Elite League and booked their slot in the 275 Season on merit. One in the eye for that anonymous HSN 'What We Learned' columnist; the one who'd written "So apparently plucking police officers off the streets and putting them straight on the pitch doesn’t exactly work well. The Packers looked out of their element in their first Elite League game. If they don’t get their feet under them soon, this is not going to be pretty."! Well, Tim thought, no one would ever underestimate such a combination again - not after the Mercs and (very unfortunately, the Miners) had felt their bite!

Many, but not all, of his ASF stalwarts would be returning to their Law Enforcement duties before the start of the 275 Season (that was the downside of the deal he had cut with Oleg). Miles Abrams had resigned from ASF, though, so he would still be there to see to the team's fitness conditioning - maybe also to assist Asyr on the general coaching side.

That would be necessary since Riv Lup was moving over to the position of Head Coach of the 'Academicals'. Spreedo would be going with him (although still available in an emergency) as Assistant Coach, both because the Packers' 'Bombardment' tactic put him at risk of damaging his sensory antennae every time he headed a ball and because he could bring his real-life Pro-Limmie expertise to the College game.

As both Miles and Georg had expressed willingness to replace Spreedo in the Right-Corner-Forward position, that left a requirement for four large players for the revised 'Bantha Squad' plus an indeterminate number of reserves. Two of those large-player slots Saba and Baraduc thought they could fill with a pair of their hatchmates (Tesar Raine and Shaka Fivvic) who they could also train to become reserve defenders. Tim hadn't previously realised that one of Saba's and Baraduc's motivations for playing Limmie for the Packers was to enable them to send every Credit they could to aid in restoring their ravaged homeworld. Tesar and Shaka apparently shared that motivation; and Tim's connection with the Jedi (tenuous though it was) didn't hurt at all!

The pair of Togorians (brothers that had been born away from Togoria, then orphaned and raised by humans) that Dua Juun had spoken of might fill the two-large-players requirement; and he'd have a word with Cachbarukh and Kahr'maim to see if anyone else in their clans played Limmie at their ability level and would like to try out for the Packers. Having seen what they could do, Tim had come to value his Noghri greatly!

Of course, the Draft was an option, but that (in his opinion) catered more towards teams looking for a player or players that could fill a specific position; not for someone more interested in player size. Therefore, he had sent the League a polite note to inform them that the Packers would be attempting to recruit directly, and would not be participating in the Draft this year.


TAG: No One (post approved by Trieste)

 

Part 2 of 3

IC: Aay'han Vhett
Six Boroughs Stadium, Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa

What a difference a year makes Vhett thought as the teams came out onto the field for the last ever regular season game at this Six Boroughs Stadium. Last year at this time the Mercs were headed back into the playoffs, confident that their playoff run of the previous year would springboard them to a title, while the Smugglers had been forced to stay home and watch on the holo. The Mercs had of course lost in the first round, but they were still riding high coming into this season.

Then had come realignment, something the Mercs and their fanbase had never gotten behind. But the Smugglers seemed to embrace it, and now while the Mercs came into the final season of the game with no playoff hopes, the Smugglers were still fighting for their own playoff lives. Vhett was sure that Coach Vizsla and the players were going to do their best to play spoilers though.

Vhett wasn't counting on it though. After two seasons of the Mercs offense carrying them to post-season play, the league seemed to have figured out Vizsla's spread offense. The team had yet to break the 30 point threshold all season while their defense had been middle of the pack. Put together it had led to one of the most dismal point differentials in the entire league. Things would have to change in the off season.

Fortunately there Vhett had some flexibility. The upcoming Rosterpocalypse as it had been termed could be seen as an advantage. nearly the entire starting (and several of the backups) were in the final years of their contract. With their atrocious play this season Vhett could either let them go, or parlay that into contract extensions at a vastly reduced rate. Ijn either case, she was seeing it as an opportunity now rather than a hindrance when it came to the future of the team.

As play began the fans on Nar Shaddaa were as welcoming as always. It actually made her smile behind her T-Visor. Despite their vastly different size and of course the socio-economic differences between the fanbases, this was the stadium that reminded her the most of the Meshla Vhetin. The energy of the crowd could be felt on the field and could easily be coined the Smuggler's "16th man".

If she were the sentimental type she would say that she was almost sad to see this place go...or be upgraded. Whatever it was that Ms. Vehn had in store for her team. Vhett blinked away such thoughts. After all she wasn't a sentimental woman, a Mandalorian could rarely afford the luxury of that emotion. Instead she turned her attention to the play on the field, and what play it was. The game was quickly becoming a see saw battle between a team fighting for their playoff lives and a team fighting for honor and self respect. At times it was difficult to tell which was which.

The play was hard, but the officiating was...fair. Hard hits abounded, but they were allowed to play through all but the most obvious penalties. Both the Mercs and the Smugglers flowed on their offensive sets and the defensive units fought to keep every inch of ground against their opponents. Neither team was able to put any distance between themselves and their opponent as the lead changed hands multiple times in the first half before it ended tied at 17.

The second half was no different, a fantastic shot past Katan put the Smugglers up, but the Mercs would take the lead only two offensive possesion later with a Daryc 3 pointer followed up by an above the bar point from Jaro. Again the game continued on like this until it was finally salted away by another Daryc point sandwiched between two points from A'den. The Mercs came off the field as victors, and salvaged at least a respectable finish to what had become a lost season. They had even finally cracked the 30 point barrier this season.

Vhett made her way to the locker room. There the excitement from the staff and players was palpable. After losing three in a row it was good to end the season on a high note. Perhaps it would even help to set the tone for next season, a year in which the Mandalorian team would be looking for a return to playoff glory. But that excitement turned to shock as two unknown Mandalorians, clad in beskar'gam pushed their way into the locker room. Vhett was about to call for security when Cabur called out. "It's Kote, I recongnize that gait anywhere!" The other Nulls quickly exclaimed their agreement as first Kote and then Ryi removed their buckets revealing themselves to the team.

There was a shocked silence. They had not known that their former team captain was still alive after their rescue of Taab several years ago. Now she stood before them in full battle rattle, looking ready to take on anything the galaxy could throw at her. She spoke.

"Vode, I am so sorry I couldn't come before you all and tell you the truth earlier. It made things far easier in my new line of work if everyone thought I was dead, or ill somewhere. But you all, I should have told sooner, before it came to this."

There were murmurs from the team, but no one shouted her down. Still Kote took over. "Vode, we have been the mand'alor's agents in discovering the identity of those that attacked us. We believe the final piece of the puzzle is here, on Nar Shaddaa, but we need an army to get to it." He looked to the Nulls now. "Vode, we need you."

The Nulls all looked to one another, there was no need for them to deliberate on this. A brother had called them to action and they would answer. "Oya!" they cried out in unison as they began to strip off their game jerseys and dress in their own beskar'gam. It made Vhett glad that it had become team policy for all mandalorian players and staff to wear their "iron skin" for travel.

Vhett looked to the coach's office where Vizsla had observed the intrusion. Taab had told her of how Vizsla's brother was putting pressure on him to act. Today. But the wily old coach said nothing, instead he smiled a thin smile as the Nulls prepared themselves for battle. Vhett herself spoke up now.

"As the mand'alor's wife, I will accompany you. Only the Nulls, and of course Ryi will go on this mission. But I will also tell you this. We must act quickly. The Mand'alor is prepared to declare war...today. We must ensure that the proper target for our wrath is chosen." The Nulls, ready in their own beskar'gam now, silently nodded their heads to her. Kote and Ryi placed their own buckets back on their heads. They were ready.

To be continued...

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Visitor’s Locker Room, The Grande Villa, Ryell, Rydonni Prime



“What is this?” Alana said holding up her jersey in utter disbelief.

“The Monarchs said they wanted to do this game in style,” Gaeriel Valerii said, “and you know what? This team has never lost more than 5 games in the Kayl’hen Era. Ever. We’re not going to start now, are we?”

“No we’re not!” Falene called back as she pulled her jersey over her head.

“Damn straight,” T.K. said, “You know what, I kinda like this. It’s a slimming look on me don’t you think?”

“Too thin, you bantha. No wonder those defenders keep getting by you,” Stormborn said.

“Hey now—just you wait. We’re gonna tear it up today,” T.K. called back, “We’re the kings here.”

Falene smiled at the positive locker room banter. Pulling out that Patriots win had improved team morale a lot. Though Falene knew that it would benefit the Miners to just throw the game to secure a good draft position, she knew that the entire locker room felt like she did—draft position wasn’t worth throwing in the towel. They still had their pride to play for and they were going to give it everything they had. Nevermind Cundertol’s threats about firing people. They wanted to walk off that field knowing that they done everything they could to win.

And if some stupid, ugly third jerseys got them all pumped for the game, then so much the better.

---

IC: Kerry Trieste
Owner’s box, The Grande Villa, Ryell, Rydonni Prime

Any reply on the part of the Chancellor was stalled by the chorale on the field. Kerry stood at the front of the box and listened. Like any good politician, her own name perked her ears up. When the Queen explained the Rydonnian beliefs that informed the lyrics, the Chancellor responded by facing the crowd, placing a hand on her heart, and curtseying to the crowd. The gesture was intended to convey the fact that she was deeply touched by the tribute.

“I am honored, Your Majesty,” Kerry said when she had finished her acknowledgment of the crowd. Shortly thereafter, the Monarch fans began the singing of their fight song. “You know,” Kerry said, leaning in and raising her voice to be heard, “I’ve always liked the fact that your fans enjoy a good sing. It reminds me of the Gardens. In fact, it almost makes up for the fact that we’ve lost to you more than we’ve won.

“But if you’ll indulge me, I hope a mortal such as myself is worthy of such high praise. Though I will admit,” Kerry continued, “that I wouldn’t mind if whatever greater powers operate beyond our sight will bless us with the opportunity to achieve peace. I’ve always thought that was the greatest honor that any of us could live to achieve in our day.”

If her words before had been the hidden stick, then perhaps, just perhaps, this was the veiled carrot.

---

IC: Falene Trieste
Field, The Grande Villa, Ryell, Rydonni Prime

It had been the Monarchs who had reached out to the Miners with the idea of formally recognizing the rivalry between the two teams. It was no surprise—the Monarchs had done well against the Miners and that was reason enough for the Rydonnians to want to make a big deal of the game. It had been one of the League’s rule changes that had given the marketing team in Ryell the big idea. Now that a visiting team could wear a home uniform with permission of the home team as long as they were significantly different from the home team’s uniforms. The Monarchs and been known to throw some maize into their uniforms over their team’s history and like the Miners relied on a blue color palette. Given this fact, it was the Monarchs who struck upon the Blue & Gold Bowl as the name for the rivalry. Part of the rivalry would be that both teams would wear home colors with the home team getting first pick. The Monarchs went with blues so the Miner equipment staff had put together a new third jersey for the Miners especially for the Blue & Gold Bowl.



And so the Miners hit the field in their gold jersey and blue pant combination. It was the first time they’d worn gold as a primary jersey color instead of an accent color, trusting to the familiar deep blue. It was a bold look for the team, though not everyone was happy.

“I look like a piece of fruit in this thing,” the redhead Glencross said, “A big yellow namana or something.”

“What, pouting because red and yellow don’t mix?” Rodders kidded his captain.

“Seriously, I’m afraid insects are going to try to start pollinating me out here,” Alana said, “I swear I’m burning this thing when the game is done.”

“At least you don’t have to go out wearing it,” Dorf Landa said.

That was true, Falene realized. This was Landa’s last game as a Miner after 12 years. It was a big day for him, for Bakura as a franchise. Something switched over in Falene’s mind when she heard that. She’d wanted to win for her own sake not 15 minutes before now. She didn’t. She wanted to win for Dorf. She didn’t want him to retire on a low note. He didn’t deserve that. She was going to leave everything she could on the field if she had to.

As the team took up their starting positions, Falene paused at Alana. “Every chance you get, give it to Dorf,” she said in her ear.

Alana cocked a red eyebrow. “That’s going to get very obvious fast.”

“I’m not saying right to him, but get the offense on board and work it to him,” Falene said, “He deserves this. He gave this team everything.”

Alana paused and looked down the field at the center half forward. “Okay,” she said, “Let’s do this.”

When Falene went back to her position, she found it was occupied by not one but two Monarchs. She’d expected to see Melanie Ocean staring her down, but there was a slightly less expected Monarch there too.

“You ready for this one, little cousin?” Vesper asked Falene.

“You’ve got nothing on me. You’ve shown me everything you’ve got in the backyard games, Ves,” Falene said, extending a hand for a sideways five to Lynd.

Lynd gladly slapped palms with Trieste. “You haven’t seen half of what I’ve got, little cuz,” Vesper said before trotting back to her position.

---

The scoring was fast and it was hard. Falene was running herself up and down the middle of the field for periodic double teams of Vesper, but the Monarch full forward was embarrassing Zire and Falene wasn’t doing much to help the Talz out.

On this series, Falene was sure that she was going to have her cousin dead to rights. She was charging the middle of the field and Zire had been clearly beaten. Luckily, Falene had his back and she jumped and flew for Vesper from a blind side. Except Lynd pulled up short and zigged behind her flying cousin, once again in the clear. It was a beautiful boot past Jorpik into the back of the goal for another Vesper Lynd score.

Before she celebrated with her teammates, Vesper turned to Falene getting up from the grass and said, “Still missing the mark, little cousin.”

---

Falene had recovered the ball on a long kick downfield by Oswin and immediately squared herself for a pass to Alana. She delivered it straight and true and Glencross had Seter on the opposite side of her to protect the ball.

Falene had just a moment to admire the pass before Ocean flattened her from behind in a hard hit—one that was just on the edge of being legal. There was that moment of grace for players who were already in motion making a tackle when the bolo-ball departed one’s control and Falene didn’t like it, but she had a feeling Melanie was in that window. She hit the ground with a grunt and a mighty crash as the center half forward took her into the turf.

With her face pressed against the grass she saw Alana make her pass to Morlan, who immediately headered the ball to Landa for yet another pass. He froze Staweh-Tam Ford (those two big humans were proportionately sized for each other, Falene reflected) with a fake kick and then deked right and fired the bolo-ball off his foot into the back of the goal past a struggling Oswin.

Falene got to her feet hurting, but with a huge grin on her face. Dorf already had 4 goals on the day and he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. The word had moved among the Miners quickly: the bolo-ball went to Landa at all cost. End of discussion. 14 players up and down the field were on board with this. The Monarchs knew it and they exploited it, but the Miners weren’t going to be deterred by that.

“Let’s keep it up! Full thrusters!” she shouted to her defensive teammates, “Let’s go!”

---

All day long Ocean tackled, checked, held, grabbed, hauled, tripped, and otherwise harassed Falene. She fell often and she fell hard, but she cared nothing for herself. All she cared about was getting that ball up the field and into Landa’s hands. She didn’t care that her aggressiveness often left Ocean and Lynd open. All she wanted was to give Dorf Landa the last day of his career that he deserved. Her stats be damned, the opinion of the rest of the galaxy be damned—Falene was going to do this.

36-34 Miners. Too close. Way too close. Not with the way that Vesper had torn things up. Falene was not going to hear the end of this from the family. She knew that her cousin had easily had the better game…but if they could hold on…then maybe there’d be some salvation.

And salvation had a name today: Dorf Landa.

The Monarchs had given up a free kick to Jorpik, who stepped back to take a long bomb pass.

“Oh, frak it,” Falene said and she started running down field to the surprise of Ocean.

“Anton! Anton!” Falene yelled with one hand up.

That got the keeper’s attention and he hit Falene with a long, long pass. Falene neatly fielded it and then dishes to Glencross, who had taken up a position off Falene’s wing. The moment she’d handed off, Cali Royd crunched into Falene, knocking her flat on her back, the wind was out of her and she gasped for breath. But even so, Falene tiled her head up. She could just see one of the giant vidscreens in the stadium. On it she saw Landa take a pass from Alesh, barrel through Ford, shoulder past Sugnok Umanh into open field and drop a rocket of a kick past a diving Oswin.

The buzzer sounded and Falene yelled in a voice without sound because she had no air to give it.

Dorf Landa: 7 goals in his final Elite League game.

The Miners had paid a price, Falene included, but it was worth it.

“Maker Falene, are you okay?” team doctor Han Tunross said, bending over Falene.

“I’m fantastic, I’m absolutely fantastic,” she gasped out.

Eventually she got to her feet and she found her cousin coming over. “Well, hope you got some nice highlight reel footage,” Falene said as she embraced Vesper, “See you at the family game.”

But there was one thing left to do. Falene ran as fast as her battered body would allow over to give Dorf Landa a hug as every other Miner was doing.

“You big brute,” Falene said as she squeezed his middle, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Thanks kid,” Landa said, “Thanks.”

The Dorf Landa era of the Miners was over now. Nobody knew what was going to come next…but Falene knew she’d be there for it.


TAG: CPL_Macja (who gave some direction on Vesper for this game and came up with the Blue & Gold Bowl)

 

Part 3 of 3

IC: Ryi Kor'le
Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa

On the tower across from the Lizard's lair, the Mandalorians observed their objective. There were seven of them in all. Ryi and Kote of course, along with his Null brothers Fi, Cabur, Jaro and A'den. Vhett rounded out the group and was there more to observe than take action. She was by far the oldest, and while she was more than capable in her own right, she knew that these clones of the great Mand'alor Jango Fett, their genome augmented and twisted by Kaminoan cloners could get the job done without much help from her.

Allowing everyone to look across at the penthouse Ryi started in on her final briefing. "OK, we know the lizard occupies not only the penthouse suite, but also owns the two floors below it."

"No activity from the penthouse or the lower floor. I think he is holed up on the middle floor, using the ones above and below as a security buffer." Came from Jaro, his rangefinder had swiveled down in front of his right eye and he was surveying everything carefully, mapping it out. "They don't even have guards on those floors though. My guess is they are protected by sensors and remotes."

Fi spoke up. "Those floors are serviced by a dedicated lift, as well as a single stairwell on the north side of the building. Thermals show that each entrance is guarded by two men."

"Fatal funnel" Ryi said as the others nodded. Their armor would provide them some protection, but not if the enemy knew where to concentrate all their fire. Eventually they would be over whelmed. "There is a single thermal source in an interior room, no windows, Suspsect that is the target. Just outside that is another, personal guard probably."

Everyone was now looking at the same images in their own HUD thinking the problem over. "Also two more guards, moving, along the exterior windows."

"Options?"

"Forced entry for us all through the lift or stairwell is a no go. Using explosives from the floors above or below will also probably get us caught. besides, I think we want to keep this as quiet as possible. So..."

"Attack from the window side. They are what? 87 stories up?" Kote looked back at the objective now, the long curving window would give them an excellent entry point. "Jet pack up from below, shoot the glass, eliminate the guards there and enter the building concealing ourselves with smoke grenades. The other guards will be surprised and disoriented. We eliminate them, quietly and then grab the lizard."

"Sounds good." Ryi said as she handed out targeting assignments to everyone. "Remember, except for the first shot to take out the window, no blasters. We don't need anyone else calling the cops on us." She was met by nods from everyone, even Vhett. "OK, everyone get set in your positions. We go hot in five minutes."

---

5 minutes 13 seconds later.

Ryi looked around through the wispy smoke making sure she had accountability of everyone. The thermal view on her HUD made the task of ignoring the smoke easy, and the "tags" she had placed on her own people allowed for a quick count. Vhett was just inside the blown out window frame, her blaster carbine still glowing red hot from the shot she had placed through the window. At her feet was one of the guard that the same blaster bolt had hit in the right temple. He wasn't moving.

To Ryi's right she caught a glimpse of Fi and Cabur, they too had quickly taken out their assigned target near the lift with a pair of toxic darts fired from their grieves. They had selected a quick acting, and decidedly deadly poison. Near the stairwell to the north Jaro and A'den were cleaning their knives off. They had burst through the doorway there while the guards assigned to protect it had been distracted. The last thing the Nautolan and human bounty hunters they had found there had felt was cold beskar pressed through their throats.

Ryi had taken out the other "window" guard, another human, with her Verpine shatter gun, while Kote had burst into the building and taken care off the "personal guard" "a rather large and nasty looking Wookiee) with a combination of blades hidden in his gautlets and his own crushgaunts. The rooms on this floor were a slick mess of death and blood, but Ryi ignored it. They had gotten this far unscathed, and a shake of the head from Fi told her that the police bands were silent, at least as far as this building was concerned. Good.

Ryi nodded to Kote as the others took up positions similar to what their targets had recently...relinquished. They didn't want to be attacked themselves as they went about their business after all. Kote examined the door quickly. "No traps, it's clean," and then he flung it open.

Entering the room quickly, violently Kote and Ryi were surprised at the lack of resistance. Inside was a lizard, some type of being that neither had ever encountered before. He (she?) looked at them before some sort of tongues emerged from its nostrils, tasting at the air. "You're too late," it mocked them.

Kote grabbed the being by its neck, his own crushgants were still covered in gore from the Wookiee, and dragged it out into the main living area. Vhett saw the being for the first time and gasped slightly. "You know who...what this is?"

Vhett nodded slowly. "It's a Ssi-ruuk, from the Unknown Regions." She turned to it. "What are you doing out here?"

The Ssi'ruuk flicked its tongues into the air again. "My life was forfeit as soon as I accepted this glorious mission, but this world has been...sanctified, so I worry not."

"But has manda'yaim? We can kill you there. Or perhaps just deep space"

The Ssi-ruuk blinked its three eyelids, "As I said it is too late, your world will soon be at war, and out targets far less protected than before."

Kote squeezed the beings neck slightly now, the crushgaunts augmenting his already considerable strength. At the same time the Ssi'ruuk's eyes darted to the holo-screen, upon which was a visage of Taab, who was just beginning his speech.

"Very well, since it doesn't matter. I will tell you." It was almost gloating now.

"We had the twi'lek hired to murder your mand'alor," it spat out. "We also ensured that the Hutt, Pza, whom I am sure is already dead, also had contacts with an Republic Agent on Corellia. Seems the dear Colonel there had used the Twi'lek as a source in the past. Their linkage was vital to our plan."

Ryi's shrugged her shoulders slightly, a sign the lizard picked up on. "Oh you did find him. Good. Did he kill himself? I am sure after knowing his contact was killed, and watching your Mandalorian fleet movements he felt he was being captured by Mandalorians to be interrogated on Republic defenses. Such a patriot he was, he never knew who was pulling the strings."

It laughed, a startling hissing sound. "No one save myself and the Imperium knew what everything that was going on." It indicated the holo-set with its three clawed hand. "And now you will go to war war with the Republic. They will fight you, drawing their strength in towards your souless planet, leaving other areas, less defended. We shall pour our own troops in, and take what is rightfully ours. Bakura. And then we will spread throughout the rest of galaxy." It flicked it tongues out a final time, smugly. "There is nothing you can do about it."

Ryi saw Vhett stiffen at that. It was right, there was no way to get to Taab in time and let him know to call off the attack. "Then we go to the Republic and let them know what you're planning."

The Ssi'ruuk scoffed. "Mandalorians making their way to the Chancellor in time of war? "You'll be dead before we reach Trieste."

Vhett spoke now, almost quietly. If Ryi didn;t know any better she would say the elder woman was...embarrassed. "I have a direct link to the mand'alor's buy'ce. He doesn't know about it. i have used it to...retrieve information from it before." Ryi's jaw dropped behind her own T-Visor as she realized that Vhett must have been the one that had masterminded the Kaminoan crisis a few years ago. She was the one that had turned over the evidence to the cloners that had gotten Taab arrested, and forced them to rescue him. It was Vhett that was responsible for Ryi's "disappearance." Just what kind of woman had Taab attached himself to? What spouse could ever betray a loved one like that. She sincerly hoped that Kote could never do that to her.

"I recorded all of this of course, and have sent it to him. Hopefully he knows it's from me and will act.

They all turned to the holo-set now.

"For today we will declare war on our enemies and bring victory and honor back to the mando'ade. Today I will call upon chancellor Kerry Trieste..." and then Taab suddenly paused.

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
MandalMotors Hall, Keldabe, manda'yaim.

This was it, this was the moment that would define Manda'yaim's destiny for the next century, and Taab's legacy for all time. But just as he was about to demand the Chancellor surrender to him, just as he was about to declare war on the Republic and condemn millions if not billions to death, his HUD flickered. He stopped, wondering what was going on. Wavy lines began to appear in it. It was a recording of some kind, transmitted right to his buy'ce. The lines began to coalesce, there were several Mandalorians in a room, with what Taab could only assume was a Ssi-ruuk. What was going on?

Text appeared below the image. "From your wife, you will find this interesting" and then the recording began to play in his buy'ce, only he could see or hear it.

The holo-cameras were still on him, and while those around the galaxy were wondering what had brought his speech to a grinding halt, Taab didn't care. He was enraged by what he saw in the privacy of his buy'ce. He had been willing to declare war on the Republic, an ally and friend due to the machinations of the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium. He would have been their unknowing pawn in their own bid for territory they deemed was theirs. They had killed Ordo, and through Taab they would have brought even greater devastation to all mando'ade. For their actions, for their deception, they would be punished. He made an easy decision and continued on with his speech.

"And so today I will call upon Chancellor Kerry Trieste to guarantee the safe passage of our forces through Republic space as we revenge ourselves against those who would destroy us both. Today I declare war upon the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium for their assassination of my predecessor. For their attack on all mando'ade we shall have our revenge."

The holo blinked out now as Taab retreated into the Hall. Quickly he gave new orders. "Inform all units. The enemy is not the Republic, it is the Ssi-Ruuk. New targets will be uploaded to them as they are enroute to Imperium space. Notify me as soon as the Chancellor responds to my...request." The Chancellor had offered her hand in friendship, and Taab had been willing to throw that away on inaccurate information. He could only hope that she had more honor than he had almost displayed.

TAG: Vehn (for Limmie stuff) Trieste (for the Chancellor)



OOC: Well there it is, the final reveal. I have one more epilogue post regarding it that will come after the Chancellor's reaction to Taab's request. But for all intents and purposes, this ends the "mand'alor arc".

I would like to thank Trieste for giving me the breathing room to follow this story to its conclusion. I tried keeping him in the loop as much as I could without spoiling anything. This story line was dreamed up in the aftermath of the Mercs losing the title game a few seasons ago and while it dragged at times, I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it.

I'll be finishing up the postseason and the upcoming off season with Taab. Following that, look for a slight change in direction as a new player character is introduced and Taab is boxed...at least for now.

 

IC: Kerry Trieste
En route to spaceport, Ryell, Rydonni Prime



That had gone relatively well, in Kerry’s opinion at least.

The Miners had pulled out the tail end of the season (it had destroyed their draft position, but honestly she’d take the wins any day) and she’d made her point to the Queen that developments in this sector were not being ignored on Coruscant. The Chancellor had no desire to insert the Republic into local affairs, but there were local affairs that stayed local and local affairs that had potentially galactic implications. The latter were of obviously greater interest to Kerry.

“Damn Core,” Kerry muttered to herself in the back of her speeder that was headed back to the spaceport. It was always the Core giving her trouble. Even in limmie. The Miners still hadn’t won a playoff game against the Senators. She blamed S’rily. Too bad the Bothan was loyal to Coruscant or she would have hired him away to Bakura a long time ago. He’d at least put his foot in his mouth less than Cundertol.

Cundertol… Kerry thought. A decision was going to have to be made about him. With the end of the season upon them it was time to review his contract. Kerry wished she could enforce at-will contracts with everyone, but the player’s union would have a fit about that. Though Kerry didn’t let the size of a task daunt her, she was smarter than to tangle with the player’s union. That was one behemoth she wasn’t going to touch.

The partition to the front of the speeder descended. Kerry sighed. She knew this was going to mean that something had come up back on Coruscant. I swear, I leave the Senate alone for fifteen minutes and they’re getting themselves into trouble again, Kerry thought to herself.

“Yes Saldor?” she asked her personal secretary.

“Madam Chancellor, news story on your datapad you’ll want to see,” the Ithorian said.

Kerry picked hers up and woke its screen up. She saw from the preview image that it had to do with Beskaryc Taab. What’s he gotten up to now? was all she could think as she started the Holonet report.

As the Manda’lor’s speech progressed, the Chancellor’s face tightened. When Taab’s address finished, Kerry set the datapad down carefully. “Thank you,” was all she said. She flicker her hand in a short motion that indicated she wanted the partition up. Saldor Kann complied.

When they arrived at the spaceport, Kerry strode purposefully to the Republican shuttle that was waiting for her. There was always media on hand and around the Supreme Chancellor, a fact she was cognizant of, and she did her best not to hurry. It wouldn’t look good in the media. She was also very much not going to stop to take any questions.

Once aboard, Kerry went into the cockpit. The Republican Fleet pilots stood when they noticed who had opened the door. “Madam Chancellor,” the captain said, “Can we help you?”

“At ease, officers,” she said, “A small request. We have a flight plan filed for Coruscant, correct?”

“Yes, Madam Chancellor.”

“Excellent.” She handed over a piece of flimsi. “Our exit vector from this system would be the same as if we were headed here, at least for the first jump?”

“It could be.”

“Please do that. And don’t change the flightplan,” Trieste said, “Thank you, officers.” She shut the door of the cockpit behind her.

---

IC: Falene Trieste
Miners team shuttle, en route to Bakura

The Miners team shuttle was pretty happy for a team that had not made the playoffs, Falene thought. After all, they’d finished just below .500 and one spot out of a playoff berth. That was disappointing, but after their losing streak in the middle of the season it was welcome. The season had to some extent been salvaged, though clearly there was much work to be done.
For right now they could enjoy the wins they’d gotten. Nar Shaddaa, Hapes, Chandrila, and Rydonni Prime. Not a bad bunch of trophies for the wall.

The return trip had taken on the feel of a party, and to a certain extent it was one: Dorf’s retirement party. Alana had organized the raiding of the shuttle’s bar and Falene was pretty sure that the team was going to have a chore to restock it once they landed.

Even so, Falene found herself with an odd sense of foreboding. There were a number of contracts coming up soon—especially on the defensive side of the ball. Falene looked at Abbey Waters, Nelly Wizmark, and T.K. The status quo was not going to stand and she knew Cundertol was not going to sit on his hands. She just wondered what carnage he was going to leave in his wake.

“Gentlebeings, this is the captain speaking. Please prepare yourself for reversion to realspace,” came the announcement.

Falene took her seat by the window. She was looking forward to being back on Bakura for a while. She didn’t know what she was going to do with herself during the offseason. There’d be offseason workouts, but other than that...well, she just didn’t know what she was going to do. I guess I’ll have to figure that out soon… Falene thought, Maybe I should get my own place, move out of the Plaza. Let Aunt Regan and Uncle Eldred have the place to themselves again. I mean, I’ll basically be in my mid-20s next season.

The shuttle gave a slightly perceptible jerk as it dropped out of hyperspace. Falene looked out the window—and was surprised by what she saw. BakurStar starships arrayed around Bakura. With an admiral for an aunt, Falene knew a little something about starships. They were in defensive formation around the planet.

“What the…?” Everett North said from the seat in front of Falene.

“If we’d lost the game I would have expected this, but we won!” T.K. joked, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but there’s got to be something on the Holonet. I’ll try to get my connection back up,” Nanchecka Stormborn said from across the aisle from Falene.

Alana leaned across Falene to look out the viewport. “The last time I saw anything like this was the Civil War, but I was down there.”

“No, this is different,” Gaeriel Valerii said from a few viewports up, “I went through the blockade on this shuttle during the Civil War. This is way different.”

“I’ve got something through the Times,” Nanchecka announced and she started reading selected quotes, “‘Beskaryc Taab announced that the Manda’lor Drall Ordo was murdered by operatives working under the orders of the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium.’”

At that moment, anyone in the know would have known exactly who the Bakurans on that shuttle were and which humans had been born elsewhere in the galaxy. The heads of Gaeriel Valerii, Nelly Wizmark, Anton Jorpik, Tamon Kutel, Everett North, Alana Glencross, Aron Rodders, and Falene Trieste all nearly caused sonic booms as they snapped around to look at Stormborn.

“‘Taab has declared war on the Imperium and publicly requested permission to transit Mandalorian forces through the Republic for the purposes of retaliatory strikes,’” Stormborn continued reading. Her eyes flew over the words. “Ummm…‘No reply from Coruscant,’…‘Representatives of the Chancellor have given no comment at this time,’…‘Chancellor has not been seen but the Senatorial Guard says she is safe and secure’…”

“Is there any threat against Bakura?” Wizmark asked.

“Ummm…I don’t see anything here about one. The Times says that the Prime Minister has gone to defense condition 3 as a preventative measure, put the Defense Fleet out to space, and has advised reservists to prepare for potential call ups. He’s set to address the Senate later today as part of Prime Minister’s Questions as scheduled,” Stormborn said.

“Maker,” Alana said, “The Ssi-Ruuk.” She was bracing herself against the bulkhead with one arm. Falene noticed it was shaking just a little bit.

“What is the bloody matter around here?”

Falene looked over. Quinn Cundertol had just entered the compartment.

“The Ssi-Ruuk are back. No idea if they’re going to attack,” Max Grap said without looking away from the viewpoint.

Falene Trieste was still looking at Quinn when he got the news. She saw something she’d never seen before. She saw his unflappable exterior break. His eyes went wide and his tall, lanky frame leaned for a second before he steadied himself with a hand against the doorframe. Without another word he staggered out of the main seating area.

“What’s with him?” Becki Morlan asked.

“Frak, did nobody teach you your Bakuran history?” Everett North muttered.

Falene didn’t need to listen to what was going to follow. She slipped out of her seat underneath Alana’s leaning frame and headed back where Cundertol had gone. Han Tunross, the team doctor, was already ahead of her.

“Gentlebeings, we’re being informed that we’re being given a military escort down to the surface as a precautionary measure,” the pilot announced on the ship’s internal comm, “No need for alarm, you’ll just see some snubfighters taking up escort positions to the starboard and port sides of the ship…”

Falene wasn’t listening. Instead she was focused on following Tunross into the General Manager’s office on the ship. Inside Cundertol was facing the viewports, both his hands braced against the bulkhead as he looked down.

“Quinn,” Tunross began.

“Not now Han,” Quinn said testily.

“No, Quinn, I know—” the doctor began.

Cundertol spun around. “You know? You know? You know what? You know what it’s like to be descended from a traitor? You know what it’s like to have your family flee your homeworld because you’re afraid that a lynch mob is going to pull your children out of your bed? You know what it’s like to have your family name reviled in every history book written on a planet? You know what’s going to happen? Do you? Do you?” Quinn shouted, “Because I know! My family sold Bakura out Han! Molierre Cundertol conspired with the Ssi-Ruuk to enslave his homeworld! And now everyone’s going to remember that Cundertol is the Bakuran word for traitor! Who do you think they’re going to come after now? Who’s the only person on this entire world who still has that name?”

“Quinn, we don’t know anything right now,” Han said, “This isn’t your fault.”

“They’re going to kill me Han,” Cundertol said. He picked up a bottle of alcohol and poured himself a drink. However, for the first time ever for Falene, she saw Cundertol’s hand shake. In fact, some of the liquor spilled onto the table around the glass. It was that bad. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time that she’d ever seen Cundertol drink. On a planet like Bakura, that was saying something. “They’re going to kill me,” Cundertol repeated after throwing back the entire drink, “Bakurans have a bloodlust for the Ssi-Ruuk. We so much as sniff one and we’re ready to start tearing heads off. Force, Roslyn wasn’t even a Bakuran and she still tried to drive Ankylo out of the Elite League.”

Falene knew what Quinn was talking about. A number of years ago Dana Roslyn had attempted to have the Elite League bar the Ssi-Ruu Ankylo from playing for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, claiming that he violated the “dangerous species” rule instituted by the League. The fact that the rule had been written when a team tried to play a rancor at full back was irrelevant, at least to Roslyn. She had failed, but it spoke to the deep hatred Bakurans held for the Ssi-Ruuk.

“Trieste’s going to have to fire me. Public opinion has likely already turned against me,” Cundertol said bitterly.

“She’s not going to do that,” Falene said.

The General Manager looked at her. “It’s her only move. She’ll never be unpopular with her own planet.”

“I know my Mom,” Falene insisted, “She doesn’t cut and run. Things are going to be tough, but she’s proven herself in times of crisis.”

“She’s got a point, Quinn. And if this isn’t a crisis, I don’t know what is,” Han said.

Cundertol turned back to the viewport. A fighter could be seen in position next to them as they descended towards the planet. “I need to think,” was all he said.

Falene hesitated, but Tunross took her by the arm. “Come on.”

“But—”

“Come on,” Han said, “We’ve done what we can.”

Falene looked over her shoulder as the doctor led her out. Judging by Cundertol’s posture, it didn’t seem like they’d done much.

---

IC: Kerry Trieste
Mandalore

The Chancellor didn’t know where she was. All she knew was that this was a much different arrival on Mandalore than it had been when she’d been here earlier in the year. There had been no fanfare, no bands, no military escort. Just her, Saldor Kann, and the Senatorial Guard—and now even they were in the next room. She’d insisted this be a completely private meeting.

The head of her security detail had refused to allow that to happen. Under Republican law, his word was what went, she knew. However, it was usually not too good to pick a fight with a Supreme Chancellor—especially one who pointed out that if the man in the next room wanted her dead, he could have done that long ago.

And so it was that Kerry Trieste sat across the table with Beskaryc Taab.

“Lord Manda’lor, I think this time around we can drop the formalities,” Kerry said, “This one certainly takes the cake.” She shook her head in disbelief. “The Ssi-Ruuk, back. That one came out of the backfield, to use a limmie analogy.” She kind of wished that she’d brought something to drink, but this was the wrong time for that.

“Good news, bad news time. The good news is that knowing my former political opponents on Bakura, they’d probably be very happy to throw the entire Defense Fleet into your new war. After all, the Ssi-Ruuk are the only reason that the Republic ever allowed the Fleet to be organized in the first place,” Kerry said, “Bad news: the Senate gets very testy when war fleets that aren’t the Republic’s start traversing our space. Can’t possibly imagine why. So you understand on one side why you’ve just made what would be considered a very big request of me. Force knows if the Ssi-Ruuk are tapping the Holonet these days, but if they are then they know you’re coming and that means that every second your fleet is delayed is another one they have to prepare for all of you.”

“The Senate is a slow-moving body by nature, but something tells me that a whole army of Mandalorians might put their feet to the fire,” Kerry continued, “Should they pass a law that bars your fleet from entering Republican space, one option is to flaunt Republican constitutional law and decline to enforce the law. Let’s put that very far down on my list of options.”

Kerry leaned in over the table. “But I do happen to be commander in chief of the Republic’s armed forces and High Command does what I say. We come to an agreement—let’s call it a status of forces agreement—today and your fleet can begin moving immediately. That agreement can involve resupply and refuel rights at Republican depots, naturally with market value payments on your part. On the other end of the table, I lean on my sympathetic Senators to kill any bill or, failing that, delay it enough to get you across to Imperium space. I will promise to get as much as I can—and I’m putting my word as Chancellor behind that promise—but I trust that the minimum will be acceptable if that’s all I can get.

“I do this and I’m going to take some heat. I’m going to be the vengeful Bakuran who wants to go hunt the ancestral enemy. That alone is going to raise some problems in the Senate for me. I’m going to need to call in some markers and make some…special requests happen,” Kerry continued, “which is why I need to ask something in return.”

The Chancellor drew out a credit chip and put it on the table between her and Taab. She then used the index and middle finger of her left hand to show that it had been broken in a rough line that separated it into halves. “A favor. Consider it a Favor with a capital F, for the Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste. Whoever comes to you, or your successor as Manda’lor, with my half of this credit chip gets one favor of their naming, on your honor as a Mandalorian.”

Kerry Wyvern Trieste, ninth Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste, sat back and let Taab think. The clock that was ticking down to possible Senatorial action. The best hyperspace lanes to the Imperium’s rough location in the Unknown Regions all ran through the Republic. The Ssi-Ruuk likely knew the Mandalorians were coming. Finding the long way around would take too long.


The decision was his.


TAG: Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Tim Dodd - Dodd Apartment, Calna Muun, Agamar.

The news had hit like a Turbolaser blast once the team returned to Agamar and disembarked from the Shuttle! ASF had arrested the Packers' former owner on suspicion of drugging the team! A part-used bottle of Narcolepine had been found in his residence!

He was, of course, denying all responsibility; but who (the Media were quick to comment) wouldn't do so in such circumstances? ASF weren't commenting, but the Media were saying 'Open and shut case!' as, apparently, were many of the Packers' faithful - the ones who hadn't made the trip to Corellia!

Worse yet, the Media had (somehow or other) got hold of the facts about his ancestry; and many of those who might have been tempted to say 'Mere circumstantial evidence' were being silenced by the name 'Tarkin'!

The situation felt 'off' to Tim (although he was no trained investigator). It just seemed a little too conveniently packaged. There had, according to his recollection, been a gap of well over a week between the last 'collection visit' to the Stadium and the C-Bucs game. Ample time to have tossed the incriminating bottle into the Bil Da'Gari, or, if a repeat was envisaged, to have buried it somewhere accessible but also in a location which granted plausible deniability - as in 'anyone could have put it there'. The man was much too intelligent and too much of a forward planner (so Tim thought, on the evidence of his dealings with the Packers' makeup) to commit such a stupid error as keeping that sort of damning evidence in his home.

It had also recently emerged that (after selling the Packers) the elderly, white-haired, man had been quietly lobbying various members of the Council in regard to pushing the New Stadium design through the bureaucratic process at a rapid clip - and this had started well before the Packers' first Elite League win, let alone their match against the Miners (as far as the Council member could recall, it had started even before the C-Bucs game)! None of the Dodd family assets were going into the new Stadium project (that was being jointly funded by the University, the ASF Academy and the Agamarian Council), so where was the motive?

Tim had always thought that Whilhum Tarkin's explanation for living under an assumed identity was plausible. Now, having just witnessed the effect the name 'Tarkin' was having on the thought processes of otherwise rational beings, Whilhum's point appeared to be proven.

So, if not Whilhum, then someone else! But who? Someone who had had access to Memorial Stadium and knew its layout, obviously. Also someone who had had recent access to Whilhum's home, and there wouldn't be many names on that list. Someone needed to sit down one-on-one with Whilhum and find out who his recent visitors actually were. Better if that someone wasn't ASF. In view of the fact that someone had leaked Whilhum's true identity, better if no one but Oleg knew that the question had been asked. That was another potential information set - who knew that Whilhum's true family name was Tarkin? Tim doubted that the leak had come from ASF, they were too professional at that level.

Tim needed a quiet word (or few) with Oleg! Fortunately he had the plaudits from the CSF officials to deliver.

Packers' team news would, he considered, be a good cover-story for visiting Whilhum, and there was quite a bit to tell him:

The Togorians (Morto and Mezgraf Goot) that Dua had mentioned looked highly interesting. Standing 2.9 and 2.85 metres respectively, they were certainly big enough for the 'Bantha' Squad and had the extremely dense bones typical of their people. Morto could be signed-up immediately (provided he passed Asyr's scrutiny - although not much more than mass was needed for the 'Charging Bantha' attack) as he had graduated the previous year. His year-younger sibling, Mezgraf, would graduate on the day before the Limmie Cup Final - and he played Limmie as a Forward! Both of them would be invited to the training camp immediately Mezgraf became eligible for the Packers. Apparently, both wanted to give something back to Agamar for having been cared for and educated there.

Tesar Raine and Shaka Fivvic were almost certainly to be joining the Packers from the Barab 1 Restoration Council. It and they thought that the funding they could provide (as with Saba and Baraduc) would be more useful than two extra beings in the workforce.

Plakhisakh Clan Bakh'tor and Sakmirakh Clan Tlakh'sar had been recruited by their Clanmates, Cachbarukh and Kahr'maim respectively. There was absolutely no doubt that they would meet with Asyr's approval - like Tim, she thought that an all-Noghri team would probably be devastating to its opposition (fortunately, Limmie-playing Noghri were not all that common). As had happened with their Clanmates (and was happening with the prospective Barabel team members), Plakhisakh and Sakmirakh were wanting to join the Packers to fund the work of a reclamation project, this one on the Noghri homeworld of Honoghr. It was the first time that Cachbarukh and Kahr'maim had let it become known which Clans they were from!

Fynn Hume and 'Scooter' Laine would be staying for at least one more season, but all the other ASF players (except Miles, who was now signed into a three year contract) would return to ASF duties.

Riv Lup and Spreedo had been confirmed as moving over to coaching the 'Academicals'.
The other 'regulars', who had performed so wholeheartedly, were all getting new four year contracts.

Finally, Tim and Asyr were in detailed negotiations to procure a replacement for Riv. There was a being under consideration who had experience at the highest level of Limmie, and had won an Award, but couldn't be named or identified until a contract had actually been signed.


TAG: No One

 

GM Post

As I mentioned earlier, I'm allowing everyone flexibility with their friendly scheduling this offseason, including beginning early and using days of the week other than Sunday.

275 Friendlies
Sunday, September 22
Bakura Miners at Stewjon Metropolitans

Sunday, October 6
Bakura Miners at Naboo Ducks

Sunday, October 13
Bakura Miners at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (first game at the new Six Boroughs)

Yep, Miners are going on the Death March of Friendlies in 275. Go us.

Though you don't need to accept this timeline for your friendlies, for a story reason that will become apparent in time, I will be having my Nar Shaddaa friendly take place prior to the 275 ELL Draft. However, I realize that's very late for a lot of people who want to debut some of their rookies right before the start of the season (currently slated for October 20 if I've done my math right). Please do not feel compelled to use this timeline for your stories if it doesn't work for you.

TAG: Vehn

 

​

IC: Beskaryc Taab
MandalMotors Hall, Keldabe, manda'yaim

Taab stood behind his desk looking through the hologram that floated above it at the assembled war leaders before him. Ray'nar Vizsla was there as were members of all the leading clans as Taab handed out assignments. As Mand'alor he was expected to lead from the front, and he certainly intended to, but before they could depart there were more mundane matters to handle."Ray'nar, you will command the 37th Infantry Brigade Combat team, your mission will be assaulting, holding and...pacifying any Lizard worlds encountered in this region." Taab pointed at the hologram, designating Vizsla's area of operations. "You will have full fleet support for assaults, but will have to rely on your own assets for occupation and pacification."

"As you wish Lord mand'alor." Vizsla nodded, "and what of our supply lines?"

Taab grinned behind his T-Visor, his next statement a careful mix of lies, exaggerations and truth. "The Republic has privately made guarantees of safe passage for our war fleet as well as supplies through their territory. But the aruetiise have no desire to be drawn into the conflict. Naturally we will be once again doing the Republic's dirty work for them." At least the important information he relayed to his field commanders wasn't untrue. That was all they really need know. "We will use the space near Bakura as our final staging point. It will serve as a safe zone from which to launch our invasion, at least we know the Republic will act to defend against any Ssi-Ruuk incursions there."

---

The previous day. Location undisclosed, manda'yaim

“Lord Manda’lor, I think this time around we can drop the formalities,” Taab smiled and removed his buy'ce, "Agreed, time such as this call for a more personal touch. You may call me Taab. I find that is easier to pronounce for you outsiders than my given name." She continued on “This one certainly takes the cake.” She shook her head in disbelief. “The Ssi-Ruuk, back. That one came out of the backfield, to use a limmie analogy.”

“Good news, bad news time. The good news is that knowing my former political opponents on Bakura, they’d probably be very happy to throw the entire Defense Fleet into your new war. After all, the Ssi-Ruuk are the only reason that the Republic ever allowed the Fleet to be organized in the first place,” Kerry said, “Bad news: the Senate gets very testy when war fleets that aren’t the Republic’s start traversing our space. Can’t possibly imagine why. So you understand on one side why you’ve just made what would be considered a very big request of me. Force knows if the Ssi-Ruuk are tapping the Holonet these days, but if they are then they know you’re coming and that means that every second your fleet is delayed is another one they have to prepare for all of you.”

Taab blinked. Of course they had given the Ssi-Ruuk fair warning of their impending attack. They were not afraid of what the Imperium could do to defend themselves, nor would they take the hut'uune way out and launch a sneak attack. This was to be an honorable war, conducted for honorable goals and conducted by honorable means. Taab supposed he couldn't make this aruetii understand that though.

“The Senate is a slow-moving body by nature, but something tells me that a whole army of Mandalorians might put their feet to the fire,” Kerry continued, “Should they pass a law that bars your fleet from entering Republican space, one option is to flaunt Republican constitutional law and decline to enforce the law. Let’s put that very far down on my list of options.”

That was a slight concern to Taab, and his forces were more than willing to cross through Republic space without permission. But such a force would have to be far smaller than the one he envisioned. One more geared for conducting a guerrilla war in Imperium space. He was sure it was still something that would accomplish his goals, but it was riskier, and would take longer. Besides a large war fleet would send a message. And he wanted to send a message.

Kerry leaned in over the table. “But I do happen to be commander in chief of the Republic’s armed forces and High Command does what I say. We come to an agreement—let’s call it a status of forces
agreement—today and your fleet can begin moving immediately. That agreement can involve resupply and refuel rights at Republican depots, naturally with market value payments on your part. On the
other end of the table, I lean on my sympathetic Senators to kill any bill or, failing that, delay it enough to get you across to Imperium space. I will promise to get as much as I can—and I’m putting my word as Chancellor behind that promise—but I trust that the minimum will be acceptable if that’s all I can get."

Taab nodded appreciatively. He knew the Chancellor was putting her political neck out for him on this. In some ways that surprised him, they had never gotten along warmly in the past. Of course her own world was the one most at risk should the Lizards make a move on the Republic. The Mandalorian attack would forestall any such attempt for generations, at least. Her next statement confirmed his suspicions.

“I do this and I’m going to take some heat. I’m going to be the vengeful Bakuran who wants to go hunt the ancestral enemy. That alone is going to raise some problems in the Senate for me. I’m going to need to call in some markers and make some…special requests happen,” Kerry continued, “which is why I need to ask something in return.”

The Chancellor drew out a credit chip and put it on the table between her and Taab. She then used the index and middle finger of her left hand to show that it had been broken in a rough line that separated it into halves. “A favor. Consider it a Favor with a capital F, for the Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste. Whoever comes to you, or your successor as Manda’lor, with my half of this credit chip gets one favor of their naming, on your honor as a Mandalorian.”

Interesting. For all this she asked for just a future favor. He picked up "his" half of the coin, looking at it carefully. As he had thought earlier, he could go it alone, conduct his war without the Republic's support. He rolled the half credit between his armored fingers. But the Chancellor had come here in good faith, negotiated with him, and given him a fair offer. A favor owed, not to the Republic, not even to Bakura, but to the Noble House of Trieste in return for logistical support for the campaign to come as well as running interference in the Senate. It was a good deal, one that required nothing of the mando'ade save payment for the fuel and supplies they purchased from Republic Depots.

A future favor? Yes that could be done, the Mandalorians had been used to working for aruetiise for payment almost since their history began. This would be no different. Besides he was giving something nebulous away, for a tangible and concrete gain now. The Mandalorians were a practical people. This deal was an easy deal to make, and if something were asked of them that would threaten the Mandalorian people, or go against his own or a future Mand'alor's honor? Well such a request could be ignored. Still he trusted that such would not be the case, and he would do his best to honor their agreement.

Taab placed the broken cred in a pouch on his belt. Reaching his arm out he grasped the Chancellor's forearm, and smiled a nexu like grin. "Kerry, we have an accord."

---

Present time

​

Two quick knocks at the closed hatchway interrupted the meeting. "Enter" Taab ordered, slightly perturbed that their meeting could not continue on undisturbed. The hatchway swung open and in marched Ryi Kor'le, accompanied by her husband Kote. Both were wearing their beskar'gam, though their helmets were clipped at their sides. By now word of their capture of the lizard now in custody was well known in the upper circles of Mandalorian society so none present displayed any shock at the sight of them. Rather appreciative looks were the order of the day.

"Ah, Ryi, Kote. Good I was going to send for you when this meeting was finished." The pair approached Taab's desk, the clan leaders surrounding it made a hole and let them through so that they stood directly before him. Ryi was silent as Kote spoke up. "Orders Lord mand'alor?"

Taab smiled again. "I am assigning you both to my Special Executive Action Legion." It was a prestigious assignment, for a people who were all commandos, the SEALs were the best of the best. "Ryi, you will command SEAL Team 6. Your mission will be to find and detain the head of the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium. You will deliver him to me. Alive." She nodded once. "Kote will serve as your executive officer. The rest of your team you may fill out as you wish."

Ryi smiled now, a glimmer in her eye. "I already have."

As if on cue several other Mandalorians began to make their way into the war room. They too were wearing their beskar'gam with helmets clipped to their belts, and in their arms was something that Taab could not yet identify. The clan leaders backed away from the desk, allowing them to all approach one by one. Taab could recognize them now, and what they carried. One by one they approached the desk and placed the bundles in their arms on it, as Taab recited their names.

"Kii Skirata."

"Jai Skirata."

"Ji Skirata."

"Jor'tag Ro'val."

"Fi."

"Cabur."

"Jaro."

"A'den."

"Ordo."

Through his T-Visor Taab looked them each the eyes. "We have no words for hero in our language, but if any here would ever qualify, I know it would be you all." He inhaled deeply, and they all placed their buckets over the heads. "Very well, you all have your assignments. Good luck, and good hunting. Dismissed."

The other Mandalorians all filed out now, leaving Taab alone. Only now would he look down at the objects placed on his desk, one by one by his former players. Their Merc's jerseys, emblazoned with the team logo on the front and their own names on the back, turned in as symbols of their resignations with the team, and their desire to go off to war. Taab picked one up, it was the Goalkeeper's. Kii Skirata, the fiery redhead who had anchored the early Mercs teams. She had eventually been demoted to the backup role with the rise of Kitan. Now she was quitting the game forever.

Taab placed the jersey back on the desk. So many of these retires were stalwarts of the original Mercs team. A team that brought Elite League Limmie to manda'yaim, a world that loved the beautiful game more than any other pastime. Now they were gone, probably never to return. He hoped at least, that they would all survive.

TAG: No one really. Trieste if he wants to fill out some more of the Chancellor's meeting with Taab.

 

​

Mando'ade Mercs transaction wire.

Mando'ade Mercs announce the immediate retirement of:

• Right Corner Back: Jai Skirata (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Left Corner Back: Ji Skirata (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Midfielder: Jor'tag Ro'val (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Right Half Forward: N-13 "Fi" (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Left Half Forward: N-18 "Cabur"* (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Right Corner Forward: N-14 "Jaro" (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Full Forward: Kyramla Ordo (Human Mandalorian Female)
• Left Corner Forward: N-16 "A'den" (Human Mandalorian, Male)
• Goalkeeper: Kii Skirata (Human Mandalorian, Female)

TAG: Trieste

 

IC: '????' - Somewhere on Agamar

Himself had been weak and a coward! No, that wasn't right (and would certainly not please the Master if himself carried that mindset into the Shrine and it was detected)! Himself had been appropriately cautious! Yes, that form of thinking was better; far, far, better!

The almost unbelievable truth was.... that there was no Jedi on Agamar! There never had been! It had been Dodd that had sliced-up that gunman! Himself had learned that from an associate who had attended the creature's (brief) trial. The weapon used remained a mystery, but was probably something left behind by the 'Mad Swordsman' from all those years ago.

That Dodd (a mere hick Agarmarian) was fixed in Predecessor memory because of the Humiliation. That Dodd must have cheated! How else could His then Renewal have been so badly defeated in a Lightfoil bout, when He (as befitted a scion of a notable Eriadu family) had been trained by the best weapons instructors that Credits could hire? As for that Dodd having become a Jedi, he'd probably just taken himself off into obscurity rather than have his cheating exposed through defeat in a properly regulated rematch!

How that family had degenerated! That Dodd a cheat, the current Dodd an 'Animal' lover, so it seemed (himself had heard rumours that he planned to bring even more 'Animals' into the Packers - as if there weren't too many there already)! The original Dodds had, at least, been Imperials (if only of the watered down, milksop, variety that former Flag Captain to the Grand 'Animal' had created)!

Himself was not happy about having to report to the Master that the Ylesian situation had cooled down considerably. Had 'Animal-lover' Dodd had a hand in that? The Media had claimed that the 'Sentience Front' protest group had been a grass-roots movement originating in the University, but was that even credible? 'Animals' protesting against the actions of other, far-away 'Animals'? Unthinkable! The very suggestion was enough to turn the stomach of a true Imperial, such as himself!

It did, however, look as if there would be some culling if HNN could be believed. Just not of the right sort of 'Animals', and not in the right place. Mandos fighting 'Fluties' might be interesting in an academic sort of way but should not affect the important parts of the Galaxy - unless, of course, the Mandos all got themselves turned into those so-interesting Droid fighters that the Master had wanted to acquire!

Himself would be quite content to see the 'Fluties' depopulate everything West of the Corellian Trade Spine and the Rimma Trade Route, particularly those thrice-cursed Ewoks on Endor, but not the Insects on Thyferra; their production was just too useful. And if Bakura fell to the 'Fluties', what a laugh that would be! The vile, 'Animal-loving' Republic taken down a few notches and their Supreme Chancellor cast adrift without a homeworld! Not that that would necessarily send the woman into a deserved, charity dependant, obscurity (the treacherous Organa, or was it Vader?, child provided precedent); but mission-creep might!

How unfortunate that himself had no way of warning the 'Fluties' of the impending Mando attack and thereby get into their good graces. Unlike the 'Scarheads', they could definitely be negotiated with, as an ascendant of the Miners' current General Manager had found. He'd overreached, though, as lesser beings tended to do; not thought everything through as deeply as he should have done. Himself saw no need for an immortal, durable, Droid body (not while the Machine existed - and Droids were even lower in the rightful scheme of things than 'Animals' were) so would only have asked for the ability to select the path the 'Fluties' ongoing campaigns of conquest and assimilation would take.

Well, no Jedi on Agamar equalled no need to avoid using the Portal, so himself could proceed with the Renewal process, only a few weeks behind schedule.

Opening the Portal with the Ritual took its usual long time but was, at last, completed. Stepping through, himself went directly to the Machine, ran an additional set of diagnostics (just to be sure), then keyed it into its pre-operation cycle to completely sterilise the working areas of its interior and bring the fluids (and kilometres of piping) up to temperature.

Himself did not need to monitor this part of the process, that came later in the cycle, so himself returned through the Portal and collected the recording; taking it to the Machine and plugging it into its proper socket.

The next step, the part himself did not like at all, was the taking and insertion of the Sample - requiring another round trip through the Portal, which is why himself did not shut it down.

As himself crossed towards the bedroom (where the Steri-field biopsy unit was kept) the door and windows vanished in simultaneous explosions, showering himself with shredded wood and transparisilicate fragments (not transparisteel; on Agamar that was never used for windows unless they were over ten metres up or required to be load-bearing).

Hardly had the fragments started hitting the floor when they were joined by larger but still relatively small objects, which emitted deafening bangs and blinding flashes of light on impact. Himself could do no more than remain on all-fours while heavy boots (felt as floor vibrations rather than heard or seen) approached. Then, in what little vision remained, a blaze of blue light and then darkness as himself lost consciousness.

---

Sometime later, somewhere else:

Himself was lying on a much harder surface than any previously lain on. Vision blurry but functional, ears ringing, but not enough to interfere with hearing - had a sedative been administered? - and caged, Caged! Caged like an animal!

It took a few seconds to resolve the almost featureless blob behind the bars into a recognisable human form.... Dodd! Standing outside any cage, leaning on that fancy Walking Cane of his, just watching! Then he spoke:

"Interesting features in your house, so I'm told; at least one of them will keep certain people happily occupied for weeks or months to come!

You should have left the Packers alone, if you had, I doubt you'd be here now! As it is, ASF have got you for drugging the team - told you, didn't I, that evidence pointing directly to you would be found, and it has been; twice over! Oh, yes; they also seem to have a case against you for murder! The clean-up was reasonably thorough, but not quite good enough, I'm afraid. There's also the interesting coincidence of the last reading made by the victim's survey instrument being the exact coordinates of that hidden chamber of yours - and there's no other way in but for that instant-elsewhere device in your home. I wonder how the Rakata managed that, time will tell I suppose!"

As Dodd spoke, himself tasted the foul bile of utter defeat. Everything gone! Anonymity, respectability, the house, the Portal, the Machine, the Renewal, the Plan!

Then additional sensations; an iron-like band around the head, fire in the brain, something rising up from the very centre of himself!

Himself screamed - a long-drawn-out scream of impotent rage, frustration and despair!

Once the screaming started, it did not stop!

---

IC: Tim Dodd - Holding Cells, ASF Headquarters, Agamar

Tim backed away from the screaming figure in the cell as guards came running. Tim had no fear that the evident complete mental collapse would be blamed on him, he'd stuck to the precise script agreed with Oleg beforehand - as the recorders somewhere in here would verify.

This was obviously a clone, a sequential clone, the final iteration of a long line of sequential clones dating back to, and derived from, Wilhuff Tarkin. The cloning-cylinder's internal records and the man's DNA bore that out. Back then, though, they hadn't known that growing too many clone generations on from an original template produced the same problem as growing a clone too fast; that is to say, madness. It had looked attractive back then as a form of serial-immortality, but was actually a non-starter.

Nevertheless, Republic Intelligence and the Jedi Order would be interested in whatever was on the other end of that holo-comm - just in case! As well as whether there were any more holo-comm links!

Turning, Tim took one last look at the man in the cell; the clone who had been known for decades as Roj Atkin - chief Civil and Business Attorney for the Packers' former owner Whilhum Tarkin and Lead Attorney for the sale of the Packers to Tim Dodd. Then he went home. He had a leaving/welcoming party to plan and a new Stadium to have built - also to find some youngsters who were capable of being trained up to eventually play quality TenGate!

 

IC: Kerry Trieste
Mandalore

The Chancellor returned the arm grasp by clasping Bardan's forearm herself. "Before I leave the status of forces agreement will be concluded," Kerry said, "Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it. Couldn't leave without butchering your language at least once, Taab." She winked. "But speaking of proverbs, you no doubt heard that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I believe there is a corollary to that saying: if the enemy of my enemy is a Mandalorian, my enemy is a dead being. Good hunting, Taab."

They released arms. "If you need anything further, I'll have holoconferencing details added to a private rider to the status of forces agreement. Making an announcement on the Holonet is effective, but just in case you need a slightly more private way of getting in touch." Kerry turned and headed for the door. She had her hand on the controls, without activating them, when she turned around with a final thought.

"You know, it is funny, this happening at the end of the limmie season and all. It's curious how things work out, almost as if they were meant to be. Allow me to be the first, Taab," the Chancellor said, "Happy Truce Day."

And with that Kerry Trieste left the Manda'lor to a war.

---

Once again the Chancellor stuck her head into the cockpit. "Officers, thank you for your forbearance."

"To Coruscant, Madam Chancellor?" the captain asked.

"Not quite."

---

Empress Teta

"Here we are," the Fondorian said, "Box 5091. Would you please?"

"Of course," the Chancellor said. Her words echoed against the high ceilings of the vault. Even with galactic commerce established for millennia, there were still banks that did a business taking on clients on a very private basis and catering to their needs. The Noble House of Trieste had a long history of doing business with just such a firm. However, their business with this institution in terms of financial holdings was only done so that the Noble House had access to what they really wanted: the privacy and anonymity of their safe deposit box service.

This particular bank operated on an old-style basis. Two keys were required to open the box: one held by the client and one held by the bank. Kerry Trieste inserted her key into one of the two locks of box 5091 and turned it. The Fondorian did the same and the box slid out. Sometimes the old ways were the best.

The Fondorian placed it on a steel table in the middle of the alcove of boxes. "I trust madam would appreciate some privacy?" He removed his key.

"Yes, thank you," Kerry said with a smile.

The Fondorian withdrew to the main corridor and indicated a button at the end of the bank of boxes. "When you are finished," he said. He pressed the button himself and after a second an opaque transparisteel barrier descended from the ceiling, giving Trieste complete and uninterrupted seclusion.

Kerry promptly crossed to the opposite wall of boxes and let her eyes scan the rows. It stopped on a familiar number. She reached into her clutch purse and withdrew two keys. It had been Amergin Trieste, third Taoiseach of the Noble House, who had decided that it would be a good idea for the Noble House of Trieste to have a deposit box that even the bank was unaware of. He had arranged it to be taken out under other names and had then gotten a copy of the bank master key. Kerry imagined that had cost a pretty credit, but she was thankful for it now. The inserted both keys into their respective locks and pulled the box out and set it next to the other one on the table.

Trieste flipped the lid up and removed the top object. It was a tome she knew well: the Noble House family Fulcrum. The Triestes had never been particularly devout followers of the Cosmic Balance so the book held very little religious significance to her. It was still priceless. Kerry opened the cover and ran her finger over the nine signatures that had been written in ink.

Niall Trieste, 5 ABY
Fionn Cormac Trieste, 38
Amergin Trieste, 70
Saraid Trieste, 105
Niall Dunross Trieste, 110
Nevan Trieste, 142
Lennon Trieste, 175
Fionn Dunross Trieste, 208
Kerry Wyvern Trieste, 252

Every Taoiseach had signed their name to the first page of the Fulcrun. It was as much the history of the Noble House as the deeds of its members were. Kerry flipped the book over and opened its back cover. There, against the inside of the old nerf hide in Kerry's neat script were the words, "These favors are owed to the Noble House." Below it was a half credit chip affixed to the inside of the cover with sealing wax and underneath the name "Niakara Kayl'hen, Commissioner of Elite League Limmie." Kerry took a match and a stick of sealing wax from her clutch. She struck the match and watched as it melted the wax drop by drop. When there was enough of a pool on the cover, she blew the match out and set the wax aside. She withdrew a half credit chip from her clutch. Its ragged edge was distinctly different than the one already inside the Fulcrum. This one Kerry carefully set into the sealing wax so as not to burn herself. When it was well seated, she blew on it to help the wax cool. When that was done, she withdraw an ink pen and wrote "Beskaryc Taab, Manda'lor". Content that the wax had hardened, she closed the Fulcrun and put it back in its safe deposit box, which was returned to its slots and the keys removed.

Kerry turned her attention to box 5091 and flipped the lid up. Daintily she reached inside and pulled out a braided silver chain on which hung a silver locket. She carefully lowered the locket into her hand and brought it up so she could feel the silver against her cheek. Kerry Trieste closed her eyes and remembered the rare old times.

"Mihal, I miss you," she whispered to her dead husband. Kerry had never forgiven herself for his death. She never would. But maybe one day this locket would bring joy again. That day, Kerry suspected, was coming soon.

Replacing the locket in box 5091, Kerry closed the lid. She walked over to the button and pressed it. The barrier lifted and the Fondorian was not too long in coming. "Finished, madam?"

"Yes, quite," Kerry said.

The Fondorian lifted the box back into its slot and Kerry and he both locked it again with their keys.

"Until next time, madam."

"Until then," Kerry Wyvern Trieste replied.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
Smugglers Locker Room, Quarterfinals

The Smugglers players had gathered around Kaitlyn in the final minutes leading up to the first playoff game at Six Boroughs in four years. The drought had been particularly painful for the fans and very aggravating for the owners at the time who couldn’t understand how their coaching staff, so brilliant in 267 and 270, had utterly tanked the franchise with three years of losing streaks. And they were gone now. Left high and dry on the streets of whatever places they called home. That was all in the past now. Now, this new-look Smuggler team was hungry, and they were young, and they wanted Ylesia’s blood. They wanted to put away this upstart team that had won the Galactic Cup a year ago. They wanted Ylesia to be one and done.

“I’m not the best for speeches,” Kaitlyn began drawing a few laughs, “but I do want to say that I’m very proud of all of you. Veterans, rookies, and those who came to this organization in our hour of need. I’m not going to promise you anything, much less a victory, but I will promise that while you play hard for me, you will be taken care of, you will be respected, and you shall always know that when you wear the burgundy and black you are as good as family.”

There were cheers.

“When I took over this team I will admit that I couldn’t care less. I had just been fired from one of the most powerful positions in the galaxy. You can imagine, then, that leading a sporting franchise based on Nar Shaddaa was less than appealing to me,” Kaitlyn said as she looked at the faces of her players, “but as time went on something changed inside of me. I don’t know if this city changed me, or if you guys did, but I realized why it is that you played so hard for those who have so little. I realized that there was so much more to life than earning bundles of credits that I could never hope to use in one lifetime. I found that by making a difference, by caring about my fellow sentient being, well, the true importance of living came to me. Somewhere, in this mess, I found myself. I found that I really do love this team, I love you as players, and I love this city. This place changed me and I want you to know that when this beautiful old stadium comes tumbling to the ground that I will do everything possible to carry forth its storied history into our new home next season. But until that time comes we have a game to win. We have hearts and minds to think about.”

“Reflect on that for a moment,” Kaitlyn paused, “is there someone in your life that you would love to win this game for? Is there someone that you could push yourself that extra kilometer to help this franchise pursue the Cup? I hope so. To add some incentive to the fire, today, I’ve invited the kids from the Valor Foundation to have some of the best seats in the stadium. Win or lose, you’ll have their support, but I think we if win today you will have helped these kids realize just how important making smart choices in life can be and how instrumental limmie has been in your careers. So let’s go out there and show Ylesia just why it is that this franchise, that Six Boroughs, is never to be counted out. Whose with me!”

More cheers, more whistles, and the Smugglers merged in the center of the room around Kaitlyn, hands linked together, ready to win one last game for the old girl, for this old city, for all that mattered.

"For Six Boroughs!" Meredith yelled.

"For Nar Shaddaa!" Tover added.

"For all that we hold dear!" Kaitlyn chimed.

Then the team stormed out of the locker room and beyond the tunnel onto the beautifully manicured grass of Six Boroughs. The stands were absolutely swimming with Smuggler fanatics. Flags waved, haze settled in the air, screams, cheers, whistles, and there were those kids, those wonderful kids, enjoying every moment, enjoying the best day of their lives. This would be the last game that many of these players would ever have at Six Boroughs. This would be the last game that generations of Smugglers fans would ever know at the venerable old lady. Next year there would be a new stadium, new memories, new dreams. But for now as Six Boroughs shuddered, groaned, and reveled in the glory of a home playoff game, everything felt right. Everything seemed so right.

Kaitlyn smiled as she watched those sleek new uniforms shine under the bright lights of Six Boroughs. Smiled as she realized she'd helped to build a contender. Smiled as she believed that today of all days the team from Ylesia was going to be struck by lightning.

Tag: No One