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

IC: Havah Jeth
Aboard the derelict vessel.

As the decompression ceased to a rare hull shield snapping into place over the gash Havah simply nodded and rose from the crouching position he dropped to when the breach was being made, as well as deactivating his mag clamps on his boots that had held him in place. Lasso seemed preoccupied with a call about temperamental anomalies or some such, to be honest he wasn't paying much attention. He had an empty room recently cracked he had left with his kit in.

"I'll go out the front door." he simply stated as he turned heel. If was not mistaken, which he rarely was in these sorts of things, the captains quarters might contain a good stash worth saving. Now the door he had popped was to the room across the hall from it, he knew this as there was no stash beyond a small credit lock box he had already added to his back pack before the Captain had raised a mayday. The fact that the decompression had stripped the labels off a couple doors, the first two most noticeably was annoying. But that merely meant he had one possibility down and one to go. Once he found something he could properly savor he would meet the others back at the shuttle. "Need to pick up my gear." he added to explain his planned delay.

To be honest the helmeted intruder being dealt with and the fact he was going to work in an area still decompressed, another delay to reaching the captain had been a section airlock, he had little fear. Most things were built for vacuum or atmo, a rare thing could handle both. Those that did tended to be easier to kill after a little analysis as well. . .not that he had the Black Guards resources for such a thing anymore.

Pausing as he reached the airlock section and keyed in for the door behind him to close and cycle the other open he raised a hand to his helmet. "That was odd." he muttered to himself. . .himself and the comm unit. It felt like he just had a moment of nostalgia, something that had burned to a crisp before he had even left the Guard.

TAG: Bravo, Bardan_Jusik

OOC: Well, I am back!

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab/Atin Taab
Aboard the wreck/Speedy Trial

The air that whipped around Taab as he held fast to the interior of the ship's hull with his improvised anchor suddenly stopped. A hull patch had closed in over the damage he had done, fortunately after the beast had been forced outside of the derelict. If comms were any indication Edge had taken things from there. With a yank of his arm Taab disengaged himself from the wall and retracted the blades that had kept him steady during the sudden depressurization. There was no obstruction between him and the other Mercs aboard ship so he jogged over to them.

"I'll go out the front door." Taab watched as the Major, spun around to leave before offering an explanation over his shoulder. "Need to pick up my gear." Taab grunted his agreement. No point in leaving good kit behind if you didn't have to, and the situation here seemed secure enough by now. Besides the Major was a big boy and could handle himself. The brief lull in activity allowed for Taab to ponder for a moment on Fett's warning to him, but he cleared his head rapidly of any such thoughts. They were still on mission. He turned to Lasso.

"Hope you got everything you needed here Skip."

---

At the controls of the Speedy Trial

"Scorch, Quagmire, can you get eyes on this?" Scorch looked out of the Trial's canopy, but could see only the bright light of the explosion before his ship raced past the impact area. "Negative, Edge, I saw the explosion, but no joy on the target." He thought about bringing the Trial around for another pass, reminding himself to take into account the extra mass at the end of his tractor beam when the Captain chimed in.

"I got eyes on the remains. It's dead. Good shot. Be advised, Extra-vehicular Team of three members will be exiting the ship now and returning to the Speedy. Break, Scorch, did you copy communications traffic?"

"Roger that Quagmire," Atin replied, remembering to use the Captain's callsign. "I'm coming around."

Atin brought the Sleuth Scout around in a wide slow arc. He wasn't used to the ship's flight characteristics yet well it was acting as a tugboat, and there was still a good amount of debris to avoid. He watched as Edge pealed away, headed out towards the CAP. She had done her job, now it was time to go back and finish up his. Bringing the Speedy Trial up alongside the wreck he checked on his threat display getting an overview of the surrounding area. With the pod in tow and the immediate situation rectified he had the luxury of time now.

"Uh, Captain," he commed out with a sense of urgency. "You are going to want to see this."

TAG: Bravo, Mitth_Fisto, Heavy Isotope

 

IC: Natalie Cunnings Crew Quarters, Johnny Boy corvette
Location: near Draukyse

Natalie was amazed and relieved with the reflexes with which she had hit the deck in her cabin when rapid-fire plasma bolts had torn diagonally through the walls of her cabin, setting four of the five beds alight, and filling the place with a light mist of grey smoke.

"Frik!" She muttered, staying on the floor.

Noise, banging, gunfire, screams, had continued for a while, fading a bit as the epicentre of whatever the frag was going on, moved down the corridor.

After she had expressed her continuing dis-satisfaction with Lieutenant Winterkill to Doctor Cooke, he had told her he was not welcome on his medical staff while she harboured ill feeling to any part of the crew.

ALL HANDS. Bellowed the public address. STAND DOWN FROM RED ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT STILL IN EFFECT. CREWMAN FRANKS AND ALIEN ENTITY DEALT WITH. HOWEVER, UNKNOWN NUMBER OF BUZZ SABOTAGE DROIDS STILL AT LARGE. BRIDGE OUT.

Good and bad news. Maybe now was a good time to volunteer.

Raising her head, Cunning could see her Merc-issue C1 comlink laying on the deck out of arms reach. She pulled herself over to it, getting grey dust and black ash over the front of her outfit.
Her hand closed over the device. "Medbay."

"Medbay here." She frowned, trying to place the voice. Not Cooke, Ulrike, one of the assistants, or droids.

"Natalie Cunnings here. I have medical training. Who is this, please?"

"Oh, sorry. Combat Medic Boras."

"Oh, right! Do you need me anywhere?"

"Sure. Where are you?"

"On the floor in my crew cabin. Deck Two. From what I was hearing in the corridor, I think someone let loose with a rotary blaster, perhaps a T-21. Really done a number on the place."

"Okay, find a medikit, and check your local area for casualties. Keep me informed. Boras out."

Natalie climbed to her feet, a bit more confident now that the alert had been scaled back to Intruder-level.
She ignored the burning bunk beds and headed to the locker bearing her medikit, sucking her fingertips after touching the hot metal.

"Ow ow ow." She wrapped a blanket round her hand to wrench the damaged metal cabinet open, retrieved the white plastic box containing basic med-supplies, and tossed it on the one bed by the window that was not alight, and quickly slipped into cleaner clothing before grabbing the box, and squatting to put a leg through the blackened gash ripped into her wall, then carefully crawling through without snagging herself on the jagged metal, since the door was now impassable.

Checking up the corridor, she spotted Timothy Waters next to his two patients.

"Hello, what is the situation?" She called over.

Tag: Bravo (Timothy "Waste of Space" Waters)

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Combat Escort, Speedy Trial

Specter's comm call came in, “Edge, we have two torpedoes plus an enemy fighter flying free on the JB’s aft section. Engage if possible and fire at will. I’m on intercept, but have no target acquisition."

There was no time to spare, "Quagmire, Scorch, I'm breaking formation to back up the CAP at JB."

Masha slowed down and made a tight turn towards the Johnny Boy, which was maneuvering to avoid the torpedoes Winterkill had mentioned, not waiting for permission she accelerated towards the Johnny Boy. Blast... They're heading right for the debris field! With her thrusters now up to full power, she sped off closing in on the CAP. She contemplated making a call to the JB to request more fighters... A preemptive measure which would likely turn out in their favor.

"Edge en route, Specter, attempting to locate enemy fighter."

TAGS: Bravo, greyjedi125, Bardan_Jusik,

 

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Hauled Bacta Hauler, deep space


"Hope you got everything you needed here Skip."

Lasso shrugged, more irriated then anything else as he holstered the pistols and went about grabbing his rifle, ejecting the spent clip and stowing it for future reload, before slamming home a new one and holding the rifle with the butt at an angel to his shoulder and the nozzle pointed it down, "Not really Chief. I was hoping for more of those supplies. But risking the life of my crew isn't worth a dead ship's mysteries. Lets pack up and go home."

Lasso started back the way they had entered and looked back to Taab, "Make sure Havah catches up. I'll secure our exit."

Lasso went on to the bridge, seeing the destruction and dead bodies once again and added to one of the floating corpses, "Sorry, but your not worth my crew," the half skeleton face and half decompressed flesh face just stared back as shockingly as it had upon it's death. Reaching the hole, Lasso started securing the hole and made sure everything was clear. He popped outside the hole and stayed close to the hull as he reached his own personal space rocket system. It wasn't until Atin's voice of urgency combined with the Speedy itself that Lasso started looking around.

"Uh, Captain," he commed out with a sense of urgency. "You are going to want to see this."

He watched a space battle in the real sense of the word as two missiles exploded behind a very real getting bigger Johnny Boy as she passed the debris field at a very uncomfortable close range!

"What in Force's name is going on?" Lasso breathed as he watched the ensuring battle; he toggled his helmet comlink, "Scorch, we're moving and moving fast! Get ready for a very unsafe boarding! Break, Ironhand, Spook! You better move your butts now! We have enemy tangos engaging the JB! We are going for the Speedy as fast as possible!"

Lasso didn't wait and activated his own space gear and rocketed towards the Speedy. Reaching the escape pod, he activated the hatch and dropped inside, leaving the hatch open and waiting anxiously for the rest of his team.

Come on! Come on! Lasso thought as still no Havah or Taab at the blast hole entrance!

"One aboard, Scorch," Lasso said over his helmet comlink, "Escape hatch open and waiting for the rest of the team!"


TAG Bardan_Jusik and Mitth_Fisto, Sith-I-5
OOG: I will get to all other tags accordingly tomorrow and Tuesday. Just exhausted from the weekend.

 

I-5 Approved

Name: Owen Byrne

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Species: Human

Home World: Carida

Affiliation: Mercs

Personality

---Traits: Quiet, loyal, brave and, determined

---Likes: Order, reading, video games and, music

---Dislikes: Interruptions, abuse of power, cowardice and, lying

---Habits: Cleaning his weapons, reading humor books, listening to music while exercising and, maintaining a strict schedule
during downtime

Appearance

---Skin Color: Light

---Hair Color: Brown

---Eye Color: Brown

---Clothing:

Downtime: black shirt, grey cargo pants, combat boots

Work out: Grey shirt, black shorts, athletic shoes

Flight: Modified Imperial Flight suit with open face helmet.

Combat: Mark III Katarn-class commando armor

---Other Attributes: 1.9 meters tall (6’3”) strongly built

---Other Details: Scar on right shoulder

Weapons:

Primary: Z-6 rotary blaster cannon

Secondary: DC-17

Close Quarters: Knuckle Plate Vibroblade

Skills

---Primary Skill: Soldier, with a focus on heavy weapons.

---Secondary Skill: Hand-to-hand combat

---Life Experience: Field medicine, blaster repair, cooking

Education

---General Education: Homeschooled

---Specialized Education: Imperial heavy weapons training.

Flaws / Limitations

----Physical: Damaged ligaments in left knee, causing constant dull ache and decreased strength in left leg.

----Mental: Unwilling to question direct orders, sticks to a very regimented lifestyle only breaking from his schedule in emergencies.

---Emotional: Constantly hears his father’s voice in his head criticizing his choices, driving him to do more and insulting him, gets rather annoyed when his routine is
interrupted for a non-emergency.

---General: Very uncomfortable around civilians and other non-combat personnel, lacks math skills above basic algebra.

---Character Critical Failure: Inner ear damage causing severe motion sickness in starfighters and poor balance.

Starship

---Name: Anvil

---Class: BTL-A4 Y-wing starfighter

---Speed: 70 MGLT

---Hull Rating: Reinforced

---Shields: Modified

---Ejection System: Yes

---Life Support: Yes

---Hyperdrive Class: 1.0 class

---Weapon(s):

Taim & Bak IX4 (2)

ArMek turreted SW-4 ion cannons (2) (Locked forward)

Arakyd Flex Tube proton torpedo launchers (2)
8 torpedoes or 20 proton bombs

---Crew: 1 pilot and 1 R2 series astromech (“R” primary color white, secondary yellow. Handles piloting duties)

---Passenger(s): None

---Max Cargo (kg): 110 Kg

---Interior Description: Stock

The Force

---Sensitivity: None

---Religion: N/A

---Lightsaber

-----Crystal(s): N/A

-----Blade(s): N/A

-----Color(s): N/A

-----Handle Description(s): N/A

---Force Abilities: N/A

---Force Weakness: N/A

---Other Force Object(s): N/A

Biography

---Personal History: Born on Carida to Max Byrne, a former mercenary and drill instructor at the Carida Military Academy. Owen’s mother died when he was five years old leaving his father to raise him the only way he knew how, as a soldier. Max demanded strict obedience and perfection from his son, only showing affection when Owen completed a task to satisfaction. In the small moments when Owen’s father wasn’t training him in combat tactics or teaching him military history, Max gave lessons from his own mercenary past. Owen liked the thought of making your own rules and traveling around the galaxy but, freedom like that was something foreign to him. After turning 18 he enlisted in the imperial army and was selected for Stromtrooper training. He graduated with flying colors but, lacked the absolute loyalty to the emperor that most of his fellow graduates had. He always found the concept of the Emperor confusing. His father taught him to follow orders from commanding officers and to be loyal to the men serving with you, not some entity far away from the battlefield. He spent most of his time in the Stormtrooper Corp. on Star Destroyers, occasionally planet side to root out Rebel cells. He walked away after his squad, under orders from a lieutenant, slaughtered women and children in a small village sheltering a rebel cell. He was trained to be a soldier not a butcher, and saw no point in killing unarmed civilians. He couldn’t turn to the Rebellion, too much of their blood on his hands. He decided to work freelance in the outer rim as a mercenary like his father. During a job he came across a cache of weapons and armor from the clone wars. It took some time and money but, he managed to salvage his current armament from this stash.

---Military History: Served as a Stormtrooper, received heavy weapons training and hand-to-hand combat training.

---Traumatic Experiences: Raised by a stern sometimes abusive father still hears his voice in his head. Also is haunted by the screams of the women and children killed on his last mission as a Stormtrooper.

 

IC: Agents Devon Robie, Johmer Evanzon, canteen, Deck Eight, Delicate Delinquent interdictor
Location: Tobali System gas giant


The canteen was not well attended at this time of the say, but the trestle table where the rodian sat was full.
About sixteen beings, all told. Mostly Kingdom of Jod technicians and engineers, then him and Johmer, shovelling food into their mouths as they quietly discussed the progress with fitting the second-hand Serridge Seal deflector shield array to the interdictor.

Except when spacers hypered into the system, and the DD, their shorthand name for the captured Imperial cruiser, was mobilised to deter visitors, or otherwise protect the assets, life was pretty sedate aboard ship.

Stable, certainly.

The clatter of the dropped fork against the white ceramic plate startled Robie and several others, causing them all to look towards the offending cutlery, and then up at its owner.

Devon looked at his friend with concern, the mushroom-like antennae on top of his head facing his way too.

"Hey, Pal. You okay?"

Evanson's eyes looked glazed, his face drained of blood.

Devon still managed to empty his own fork into his scout, and chew at the warm diced meat whilst gazing thoughtfully at his partner.
"What's going on?"

"I can sense a loss in the Force."

"One of ours? The Haven?"

"Don't...don't know." Johmer stood up from the table, his meal forgotten. "Get me to a starmap; I shall try to pinpoint where it was."

Devon shovelled up another two mouthfuls, then signalled the mono-wheeled WA-7 service droid stationed at the far wall beyond several empty tables. "Can I get this in a dinko bag to go?"

"Oh, sure thing, Hon'," the droid called back, its two photoreceptors lighting up yellow, and the droid wheeling over to the serving area.

"Thanks." The rodian stood also, looking apologetically down at the techs. "Sorry fellas, looks like something has come up." He glanced up at Johmer. "Grab your gear, and meet me aboard the 'Fluffy."

The jedi patted the lightsabre at his hip. "I'm packed. Let's go."

Tag: no-one

 

OOG: Ran out of time. I will continue tomorrow; I had to set up some storyline bits with the readdressing of the AADM's strength and positioning that will be posted to the QR. However, with all the boring ship numbers (that I love doing actually), the ending sentence will probably have most of you scratching your heads as to what the heck is going on. Which was the point. Hehehe.


IC: Imperial Agent Thomas Ford
AADM Army Garrison Base, Algor (central complex conference room, some distance from Vakcs and Aidan)




Ford continued bringing his laser pointer in a rough oval-egg pattern around Algor and expanding; a hologram of Commodore Strong sat in a chair while the rest of the command staff of the AADM sat around the conference room table. Ford had a cigarette loosely in his mouth, a cup of half drunk black coffee on the table in front of him with a ash tray near it with several cigarettes already in it, and a scatter of datapads and flimsiplast reports on the table near the coffee cup. He stood as he drew his laser pointer across the holograpic map hovering above the middle of the table.

At the entrance of the sealed blast doors, on the inside of the room with Ford and others, stood two very prime and proper (trying their hardest to look "elite") Imperial Navy Troopers in Edward and Victor on either side of the doors, their arms crossed over their chests.

"It has long been known that the Ash Worlds has been a haven for pirate, mercenary, and Rebel holdings. It is, like the Expansion Regions, the perfect hiding place. However, the Empire has seen no profit in conducting military campaigns in the area, especially with the successful buffer zone the AADM has been providing to the local area. However, with the recent Battle of Yavin and the destruction of the Death Star, the Empire has taken a renewed interest in the area to stomp out and provide tighter military presence in the area.," Ford said, "Effectively immediately, the AADM will be expanding rapidly. To help combat the evils of this galaxy," Ford started using his laser pointer again to illustrate his point, "The AADM will be expanding from this to covering from Algor to Saheelindeel, with the edges of the Indrexu Spira providing the AADM's most Galactic North and Galactic North-West barriers. Algor will provide as one extreme, Saheelindeel the other. The AADM will the expand itself to Kintoni, where the isolated Imperial Kintoni Garrison is located. Both Algor and Saheelindeel will act as markers for the new AADM, providing a straight line from each planet's orbit to that of Kintoni and hence completing the new AADM. Your forces will be expanded considerably; the current 21 vessel contingent that makes up AADM will remain and be upgraded accordingly.

"With the introduction of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, older Imperial I-class Star Destroyers are either being refitted to match Mark Two standards or are being rotated out to older sectors that need ImpStars when a Mark Two replaces a Mark One's original posting. I have acquired one such ImpStar Mark One, with it's own contingent of Stormtroopers on each. Furthermore, I have gone through old and rotting away commands and have found several vessels that will suit your needs. Effective immediately, AADM will be broken up into three defense forces and three patrol forces. Each defense force will surround a planet, those planets being Algor, Saheelondeel, and Kintoni. Each defense force will be responsible for their planet, that system, and immediately surrounding area. Each force will consist of one Victory I-class Star Destroyer as a Command Ship supported by three Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruisers; each Bulk Cruiser will in turn be supported by two Munifex-class Light Cruisers (for a total of six Light Cruisers), oneGuardian-class Light Cruiser (three Guardians), and three Vigil-class Corvettes (Galactic Voyage stats used), for a total of nine Corvettes. Each of these Bulk Cruiser task forces of seven ships total will be in charge of the defense and patrol of the planet and hence that system it is assigned to protect. The VicStar will act as the central command ship and be accompanied by one EF76 Nebulon-B Escort Frigate as a Communications Ship, twoImperial II-class Frigates, and three DP20 Frigates. Lastly, the command group would also be supplied with a single Acclamator I-class Assault Ship for ground operations and one Escort Carrier. Each planet will be supplied with a single Golan II Space Defense SpaceGun, assigned a Imperial Customs Office aboard the station and six Light Corvettes and six Guardian-class Light Cruisers assigned to Imperial Customs for their duties. Furthermore, each planet of Algor, Saheelindeel, and Kintoni will have a Imperial Army Garrison assigned to the planet; Kintoni's base will remain the same, while Saheelindeel's will receive Algor's.

"As the defense forces around each planet help to patrol local space lanes, secure local systems, and provide a increased military presence, right in the middle of our newly made upside down AADM triangle will be the traditional AADM squadron, which will be updated accordingly to a Battle Squadron containing it's original ships including now a Imperial I-class Star Destroyer as the Command Ship supported by the original one Vindicator-class Heavy Cruiser and both Dreadnaught-class Heavy Cruisers with the original EF76 Nebulon-B Escort Frigate as a Communications Ship, both Imperial II-class Frigates, and all three DP20 Frigates. Finally, the Guardians will be relocated, but two Vigils will be added to bring ten Vigil-class Corvettes into the squadron mix. For a total of twenty vessels. The squadron's sole mission will be the security of the AADM in that open area and the complete termination of all forces hostile to the Empire.While the squadron will be small, it will have a singular mission of the termination of hostile enemy forces. Furthermore, under the direction of the AADM's performance, I am transforming the whole Imperial Army force on Algor to the Star Destroyer to give the ImpStar a mixed contingent of Stormtroopers and AADM Army forces, while transferring the remaining balance of Stormtroopers to Algor on a Prefabricated Garrison Base to establish a Stomrtrooper presence in the area. Lastly, two additional identical squadrons, named Algor Area Defense and Monitoring Squadron Two & Three respectfully will be added to the middle triangle area as well, however the ImpStar will be replaced with a single Victory II-class Star Destroyer respectfully."

The hologram shut down and Ford shut off his laser pointer. He took a drag from his cigarette before tipping off the end in the ash tray and putting the cigarette again loosely in his mouth, "This, gentlemen, will be the new Algor Area Defense and Monitoring Force, still shortened simply to AADM; Command and Control will be the Stormtroopr base on Algor. Algor Area Defense and Monitoring Squadron will remain the same, with likewise named squadron's Two and Three added, with the additional ships as it patrols freely in the middle of the upside triangle. Any Imperial forces patrolling the area already will continue on their assigned missions and not be part of the AADM's mission profile. Are there any questions?"

The holograpic Commodore cleared his throat, "Agent Ford, what is the purpose behind the sudden increase from twenty-one ships, a single army base, and a single station over one planet and local systems to one hundred and sixty-three ships, three stations, three planets, two army bases and a Stormtrooper base, and a contingent of thirty-six Imperial Customs vessels over multiple times the size of territory?"

"That, gentlemen, is why I am here," Ford said with a smile, "There is a threat to the Empire. Several advanced fighters have been seen operating among and in pirate organizations. All of my research and intelligence points to the Ash Worlds. These fighters are part of something bigger. I need to find out what. The AADM will assist me in that operation. But in order to do so, I need to strengthen the Empire's assists in the area to complete my mission. The best way to do that was to readdress older ships to the area, as to not get the attention of the finance people back on Imperial Center---"

Suddenly the air raid alarms started going off city wide...


TBC

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab/Atin Taab
Aboard the wreck/Speedy Trial

"Not really Chief. I was hoping for more of those supplies. But risking the life of my crew isn't worth a dead ship's mysteries. Lets pack up and go home."

Taab didn't respond, and made no outward sign of his own beliefs on the matter. To his way of thinking this was all a waste of time. Their efforts could have been better spent getting the Johnny Boy back into fighting shape after being pulled from hyperspace rather than boarding some nearby wreck, exploring its mysteries. But it wasn't his job to think, it was his job to keep the Skipper safe, and thus far he had been successful.

He followed the Captain back to the bridge, confident that Jeth would be able to handle himself until they beat feet back to their own ship.

"Scorch, we're moving and moving fast! Get ready for a very unsafe boarding! Break, Ironhand, Spook! You better move your butts now! We have enemy tangos engaging the JB! We are going for the Speedy as fast as possible!"

---

Speedy Trial.

Prompted by a solid *thump* Atin looked aft and saw one member of the team clamber aboard the Speedy Trial. It was the Captain. The Mandalorian pilot expected to feel two more thumps soon thereafter, but there was nothing. What were they waiting for?

---

The wreck

The Skipper went out the ragged hole first while Taab covered him. There had already been far too many surprises for the boarding team on this jaunt of theirs, he would hate for the Skipper to be blasted from behind by some nasty something or other whilst he was defenseless during transit. Seeing that the Skipper was safely aboard their ride home Taab prepared himself for the same journey. Ideally the Major would be here by now and Taab could cover him the same way he had covered the Skipper. Taab would then transit back as tail end chakaar* (corpse robber, general term of abuse).

However, the Major wasn't back yet just yet. Taab glanced around the bridge. He had three options. He could wait for the Major and cover his transit as planned. He could go look for the Major and then cover his transit, that at least had the advantage of doing something. Or he could leave the Major behind for now, trusting that he could take care of himself and he would do his best to cover the officer's transit from the Trial.

He shook his head, despite his options there really was no choice. Leaving before the Major was not going to happen. Barring orders, Taab's pride wouldn't allow him to be anything but the last man off this boat. Going to look for him was also a no go, it would leave their egress route unsecured, and with the Trial (along with the Skipper and Atin aboard) hanging out there vulnerable Taab wasn't going to let that happen. So he would wait, and hope that the Major collected hit kit and was along presently.

Another moment went by. Taab knew he couldn't wait forever. Whether the Major arrived or not, eventually the Skipper would order him off the derelict so they could get back to the Johnny Boy. He commed out to Jeth. "Waiting on you Major."

TAG: Bravo, Mitth_Fisto

*term adapted from "tail end charlie", the last man/craft in formation

 

IC: Winterkill
Deep Space, Johnny Boy, CAP

[“Edge en route, Specter, attempting to locate enemy fighter.”]

Winterkill noticed the sluggish response in his X-Wing. More accurately, sluggish to him. The response variance was 0.25 seconds, but VERY noticeable to someone like the nagai. Winterkill set his jaw as he ground his teeth for a moment. Against these enemy tangos, a 0.25 second variance in speed could very well get you dead! This system sluggishness was probably caused by the radioactive backwash from the detonation of four enemy missiles. He did realized he was fortunate he hadn’t suffered more debilitating after effects due to his proximity, thanks to the X-Wing’s integrated shielding, BUT…his combat effectiveness had been marginally reduced. There was no way of telling how long the effect would last.

Frakk!!

“Edge, my speed is a bit compromised. Enemy tango is aft of the JB. One missile live and free. Watch yourself Edge. These guys are good.”

He hated to admit it, but he generally welcomed the challenge. From the little he’d read, he knew Edge had the right stuff. This was a good time to show it.

‘Ghast’ whistled suddenly.

“I see it!” Winterkill said, still doing everything he could to push his X-wing past specs and silently cursing the operational lag in his system.

The Johnny Boy was moving!

It wasn’t enough to avoid torps outright, but it was enough of a defensive maneuver to give the CAP a fighting chance at protecting it.

That’s when he saw a flash on his sensors. The two missiles had detonated.

NO!!!! Winterkill exclaimed, all the while suppressing a bitter sting in his gut.

But the Johnny Boy was still there! It didn’t seem to be venting debris or anything. Ghast tweeted excitedly, revealing what had happened.

“Yes!” Winterkill allowed himself an entire second to celebrate, now feeling a bit of relief.

The JB had fired on the missiles and detonated them prematurely. It had provided its own unexpected countermeasure, which now meant it was not as helpless as it seemed. Even if only a few weapon systems had come online.

FINALLY!

“I’m joining your wing Edge! We need to wrap this up and get back in control of the playing field.”

Ace was doing a good job at keeping his tango busy, but the flow of combat was a fickle thing. It was always best to take control of the ‘field’ as quickly as possible. So far, it was still ‘contested’, which meant both the CAP and the enemies had neither ‘favor’ or ‘disadvantage’.

Not good in Winterkill’s book. Never give the enemy a chance, unless you wanted them to think so.

Additionally, the Luck’s Gamble still had to make its move, which could be exploited to maximized effect, hopefully.

Still, he could feel it in the very pit of his gut. They might all just live through this.

Tag: @Heavy Isotope, @Sith-I-5, @Intervention


OOG: @Sith-I-5, I’m really enjoying how you’re handling the actions/reactions from the rest of the JB crew. Kudos galore to you, sir.

 

IC: Priest
Location: "Base Camp," unknown planet

Hawkins nodded, "We must also assume gear malfunction. With that said, gentlemen, lets also state the obvious: we could have a hostile force here and must plan accordingly. Priest, per your expertise, could anything survive on this planet, from what we've seen so far of it?"

Priest cocked his head and thought of a way to answer that. "Lieutenant, I'm not quite sure I can help with that. Life is a tricky thing in that it fights for existence. Across this galaxy we have cataloged lifeforms that reside in ice, in methane, in liquid metal, in acid, in water...heck...even in vacuum. There are creatures who eat organic and inorganic material to survive, there are creatures that absorb sunlight, or heck, even creatures that react with the chemicals in the atmosphere around them for energy. This is a strange and beautiful universe, and I can imagine dozens of creatures off the top of my head that could live a substantial time here, and that means that there are countless others I don't even know about. That's not to say that what we would be dealing with is sentient or organized; but it's not to say it's not. I could extrapolate based on environment, however I have my doubts of that being useful. If there were biological experiments going on here, it very nearly could be anything. While i would be remiss in suggesting a course of action, I suggest extreme caution...especially at night. We're not creatures who are meant to be out at night, and that is why it terrifies us."

TAG Bravo



OOG: Sorry it has taken me so long to post that very short update. Life is hectic now. But rest assured, I will continue to play!

 

IC: Captain Sard
AADM Army Garrison Base, Algor (central complex conference room, some distance from Vacks and Aidan)


Sitting in the conference room, listening to this Agent Ford begin to lay out his plans, Captain Sard's relief that his failure to both capture the Mercs during their various encounters, or one of the Kingdom of Jod starships at the Battle of the Whendyll System, had not finished his career, began to ebb away.

As the demonstration hologram shut down, and Ford deactivated his laser pointer, Sard sat there among the other commanders, acutely aware that none of the ship classes mentioned for the new look AADM included his Lancer-class frigate.

What was to become of the Hard Eight?

The agent took a drag from his cigarette before tipping off the end in the ash tray and putting the cigarette again loosely in his mouth, "This, gentlemen, will be the new Algor Area Defense and Monitoring Force, still shortened simply to AADM; Command and Control will be the Stormtroopr base on Algor. Algor Area Defense and Monitoring Squadron will remain the same, with likewise named squadron's Two and Three added, with the additional ships as it patrols freely in the middle of the upside triangle. Any Imperial forces patrolling the area already will continue on their assigned missions and not be part of the AADM's mission profile. Are there any questions?"

The holograpic Commodore cleared his throat, "Agent Ford, what is the purpose behind the sudden increase from twenty-one ships, a single army base, and a single station over one planet and local systems to one hundred and sixty-three ships, three stations, three planets, two army bases and a Stormtrooper base, and a contingent of thirty-six Imperial Customs vessels over multiple times the size of territory?"

"That, gentlemen, is why I am here," Ford said with a smile, "There is a threat to the Empire. Several advanced fighters have been seen operating among and in pirate organizations. All of my research and intelligence points to the Ash Worlds."

Sooo, Sard considered enquiring, what's to stop us popping over and turning them into the Glass Worlds?

As if in answer, air raid alarms started going off city wide...

Sard looked up in surprise at the dulled klaxons. He didn't think someone had pressed an alarm by accident, but who or what in their right mind would attack a planet with a star destroyer hanging in orbit?

Then again, that had probably been the mindset that the late Governor Tarkin with his Death Star project. Everybody present knew how that sith had turned out. "Excuse me, Gentlebeings." Sard stood up from the cool metal of the polished table, his knees pushing the wheeled padded chair backwards, and moved off to the corner of the room, bringing his C1 comlink up to his lips.
"Hard Eight from Sard. What's up with those air raid sirens?"

The voice of his on-duty deck officer came back almost immediately. "Captain? Ship approaching the planet, Sir. Y-Wing class."

Sard frowned at the update. "Just a Y-Wing? Would that warrant air raid sirens?"

"Well...they do carry bombs and stuff...?"

Sard was shaking his head. "Not even Algor's excuse for air defense would panic over one little snubship. wouldn't cause this much concern. Do a full sensor sweep, there must be something else out there. Sard out."

Whilst he had been talking, he had heard the comlinks belonging to the other officers, going off, and presumed they were also getting updates.

He walked back to the table, eyeing Agent Ford over the heads of some of his peers.

Tag: Bravo (Agent Ford, others)

---

IC: Lieutenant Senova, Lancer-class frigate, Hard Eight
Location: Algor orbit


Senova swivelled his chair away from the communications console to look at the two other personnel on the 250 metre-long vessel.

"Alright, I want a full sensor sweep. Full spectrum."

"Yes sir." The Sensor Operator confirmed.

The Tactical Officer pointed out the window at the tiny speck of light reflecting the glow from the planet that was so close that it's luminescence filled the bridge. "What about the Y-Wing?"

Senova removed his cap and wiped perspiration from his forehead. He had not worn it in months, and it now felt like a foreign object on his head. Damn that Star Destroyer.
"Captain did not seem much interested in it. He's convinced it didn't come here by itself. I expect the Star Destroyer will tractor it aboard."

He referred to the triangular grey battlewagon floating above his frigate like a nobbled grey ceiling.

Tag: galactic-vagabond422 (Y-Wing...this should be interesting. ), Bravo (whatever set the air raid sirens off)

 

IC: Imperial Agent Thomas Ford
AADM Army Garrison Base, Algor (central complex conference room, some distance from Vakcs and Aidan)

Conference Room


"Hard Eight from Sard. What's up with those air raid sirens?"

The voice of his on-duty deck officer came back almost immediately. "Captain? Ship approaching the planet, Sir. Y-Wing class."

Sard frowned at the update. "Just a Y-Wing? Would that warrant air raid sirens?"

"Well...they do carry bombs and stuff...?"

Sard was shaking his head. "Not even Algor's excuse for air defense would panic over one little snubship. wouldn't cause this much concern. Do a full sensor sweep, there must be something else out there. Sard out."

Whilst he had been talking, he had heard the comlinks belonging to the other officers, going off, and presumed they were also getting updates.

He walked back to the table, eyeing Agent Ford over the heads of some of his peers.

"Command has just informed me we have hundreds of starfighters and more launching towards the planet!" the Colonel spoke up.

"From where?" the Golan II defense station commander asked.

The Colonel nodded to a voice on the other side of his comlink he had to his ear, "Within orbital holding sector two-two-five."

"Impossible!" the station Commander barked, "No ship that size carrying starfighters could get that close without the station's sensors detecting them!"

"Not if someone spent the money to covert the cargo holds to shield from sensors," Ford pointed out, "A costly one, but not out of the realm of possibility."

The station commander barked at that, "Agent Ford, maybe for Imperial Intelligence, you like to come up with fanciful dreams of what an enemy can do. I, on the other hand, am military. And we look at the facts. There is no way, even for a company of wealth, to equip any sizable carrier with enough sensor shielding material to protect it from sensors!"

"Well Station Commander Jenkings," Ford said with spite, "The fact is that there are enemy starfighters inside your defensive zone. The gravity well of Algor will prevent any Imperial warships from mirco jumping in too close first of all, hence slowing our response. Second of all, orbital holding sector two-two-five is a full ten minutes full burn from my Imperial Star Destroyer in orbit, thus preventing any sizable Imperial response---"

"Two Vigils are in the area," the Commodore spoke suddenly as he looked off the screen to a holograpic map of his own, "But even the Heavy Cruiser is a full fifteen minutes full burn around the planet opposite Agent Ford's ImpStar. They positioned perfectly, in a low priority, low risk orbital holding area. We only reserve that area for well-known and well-trusted cargo ships. Defense is minimal in that area with TIE patrols, Vigils, and the Golan II's sensor oversight."

"And third of all," Ford finished after the Commodore, "It's fact," Ford turned to Sard, "Captain Sard, report to your command immediately. I want eyes and ears on orbital holding sector Three-Three-One. It is near the Southern pole of the planet; that sector is containing a sensitive vessel, a Space Master Medium Transport. You are to make no contact with the vessel or do any such tactical measures that will reveal it's sensitive nature. You will, however, make sure not a single piece of paint is scratched off of it. Complete this mission, Captain, and you may have your choice at your next command ship and choice of where. Failure and spacing yourself will be the better option then reporting back. I would recommend you look for the odd and misplaced things as threats, Captain, and not starfighters. Just a hunch. Dismissed, Captain Sard."

Ford coolly turned back to the other officers, "Return to your respected battle condition commands and act accordingly. Colonel, I want information on the vessel who launched those starfighters and I want it yesterday."


TAG Sith-I-5


***********************

Corridor


Ford helped move the piece of debris off of the crew member with the help from the base Colonel and Ford's two Naval Troopers, Edward and Victor.

Two Imperial Medics showed up just then and waved the command personnel on from the severely wounded technician. Ford looked up through the missing chunk of ceiling that was done so by a missile impact, through the bent pipping and sparking wires and jagged ends, and to the night sky above where he saw green and red laser bolts crisscross the night sky, an exploding Vulture-class droid starfighter pierced by green laser bolts marking his view brightly above as two TIE/LN starfighters zoomed through the exploding debris.

"Colonel, I do believe you should head to Control," Ford said flatly, "I want information on these hostile forces immediately. Use my comlink."

"Yes, sir," the Colonel said as they started walking towards Control, "Where should I find you on base, sir?"

"Not on base, Colonel," Ford said, "But out inspecting that droid wreck."

"Yes, sir!" the Colonel said and started at a jog towards control.


*************************

Meters outside the Imperial base's now active energy shield


It didn't take long for Ford to round up a rough looking group of Imperial Army Troopers better suited for a hangover movie then combat duty, but also a group best suited for a brawl and a fight at the moment more then any other. While the squad of troopers fanned out around the wreckage creating a defensive zone, Ford had both his token Imperial Navy Troopers---Edward and Victor---standing over him like idiots asking him every question in the book. Finally, Ford shut them up as he took a long drag from a fresh cigarette and joggled a piece of still warm, but cooling, droid head mounted into a control box on the ground as he knelt by the crashed starfighter cockpit.

"That is not typical for a Vulture-class," Ford said, turning the droid head that he disconnected from the dangling wires from a built in control box into the startfighter, "This is a FEG-series Pilot Droid brain. Someone has invested money into these fighters."

Ford's comlink beeped for attention and he took the call. He ignored the Colonel's military lingo, then tuned in as he got to the meat of his message.

"...sensors has confirmed that one thousand, five hundred droid starfighters launched from a decommissioned and re-purposed to civilian use Lucrehulk-class Battleship from the Separatist Navy from the Clone Wars; the ship was holding in one of Algor's planetary orbit holding sectors for off-loading of cargo planet-side when the fighters launched. Your Imperial Star Destroyer quickly dismantled her with aggressive turbolaser fire, but her starfighters all raced for Algor's planetary surface for our current engagements. Lucrehulk's name is the Successor; she is a normal sight around these parts for the last two years. No flags from law enforcement, Imperial Intelligence, or ISB. Straight cargo use, mostly food stuffs and non-hazardous based products from one planet to another across the galaxy. She makes normal runs into the Cronese Mandate every several weeks. Her last logged run took her to the Rago Run, that was several weeks ago, but no reports were filed as a missing ship or crew. She hasn't been heard from since, until today, at least per official logs with shipping."

Rago Run caught Ford's attention for the obvious reason that that was one of his major research points in his case, "Copy, Colonel. Update on Imperial deployments?"

"Ground-based TIE squadrons, Golan II TIE squadrons, and your ImpStar's TIE squadrons are engaging enemy droid starfighters. All other Imperial warships from the AADM within a thirty minute hyperspace jump have been recalled for defense of the planet. No other signs of enemy tangos. I have dispatched urgent messages for all local commands to send whatever military assets they can to assist. Imperial ground forces have been deployed to defensive stations around the planet and all space traffic have been restricted from entering orbit during the crisis."

A good, effective officer. Things were done with the resources he had and quickly. But the damage had already been done, somewhere else. These droid starfighters were simply a distraction. But a distraction for what?

That answer came all too quickly as, off in the distant of the industrial area some five miles away, a large explosion could be heard, then seen, as if from the center of the industrial sector of town, it sunk away into the ground like domino's. The ground shook all around, explosions of gas pipe lines erupted everywhere, and all around chaos descended upon Algor as a large sink hole in the ground now took up a area of town, flames and smoke and all manner of alarms rising from the hole that measured some half mile across.

"Colonel," Ford said into his comm, "We must assume an advanced hostile force has landed on Algor. Declare martial law within the city and on the planet."

"Agent Ford, the AADM does not have the ground forces for that size of an operation!" the Colonel replied.

"My ImpStar's Stormtroopers will supplement yours forces immediately. Ford out."

"Ah...Mr. Ford, sir? What do we do now?" Edward asked.

"DUCK!" Victor cried as blaster fire from surrounding buildings started impacting the crash site! As Ford took cover, taking quick count of the handful of blaster shots he saw come their way, that the enemy force wasn't big, maybe half a squad at best. And to their lack of aim, Ford guessed non-military. He drew his blaster pistol non the less as Edward and Victor protected him from crouching positions in front of him, their blasters drawn as they guarded the rear where they all stood took cover behind the starfighter and where no blaster fire was coming from. All of the fire was coming from the opposite side of the crashed starfighter, across the street from both medium office buildings on either side of the four way hover street intersection. The Imperial Army Troopers started engaging and judging from the lack of return bolts hitting the crashed starfighter, he could already assume that the veteran AADM troopers had things quickly under wraps against the mysterious shooters.

"It's going to be a long night," Ford said as he looked at his now crumpled cigarette from Victor tackling him like a linebacker on his scream of DUCK!

"Pirates!" one of the Imperial Army Troopers came back with over the comlink, "Bloody rag-tag pirates! All hostiles eliminated."

Pirates? That would mean whoever was doing the invading wouldn't have any large ground force. Pirates worked, even in larger squadron based groups, as small planetary raiding teams. No more then two dozen men at most per ship. So the question only became now, how did pirates get planet side without someone knowing? And second, if the pirate strength wouldn't be big, what was their more specific goal in mind?



TAG Tim Battershell, anyone else

 

IC: Aidan Dodd
Blood Moon, GL Pad, Algor - Cronese Mandate.

It happened very fast. First loud sirens started howling some form of emergency alert, then Algor Base took fire. Missile fire. I saw at least one impact signature from the general area of where the Lambda Shuttle had come to rest. Next up was the Base's defensive weaponry and Energy Shields going active, closely followed by TIE Fighters going in hard on the attackers. Old ex-Separatist 'Vultures', from what I could see of them. We'd had a thoroughly-decommissioned 'Vulture' Starfghter on display outside the Agamarian Council Building for years until it started falling apart, probably because of the salt content in the air that close to the Bil Da'Gari Ocean.

'Passepartout' had our own Shields up before any secondary or tertiary debris fragments could reach us and also started bringing all Blood Moon's systems back to full on-line status. Not that I would be wanting to lift off anytime soon, not into a Starfighter furball probably involving some very peeved and trigger-happy TIE Pilots! Fortunately, nothing had come our way direct and I was hoping the aggressive TIE activity overhead and the GL area's outer walls would keep it that way. This was one case, totally contrary to conventional wisdom and normal SOP, where it appeared safer to stay on the ground while under an air-strike.

A very short time afterwards, Blood Moon bucked on her landing skids from a powerful seismic shockwave and the glow of fires, quite large ones, appeared above the cityscape.

Turning to Vacks I said; "Glad now we held position like cooperative loyal Imperials, Terrel? If we'd tried running for it we'd have ended up as 'roba-in-the-middle' and probably deemed guilty of being involved with the attack into the bargain!

Maybe 'Passepartout' has picked up some 'ship to ground' signals that will give us a better idea of what's going on. Most think 'directional tight-beam' means exactly that, but it doesn't really. They're always slightly conical in form between mobile stations so the transmission antenna doesn't have to stay precisely aligned with the rectenna; so we might catch the fringe of any communications traffic. If so, there's a good chance that they'd be in an encryption code and format that he already knows. If not, he's had good results 'brute forcing' encrypted messages in the past. Both are reasons why 'Adjustments' keeps things on a person to person communication level. It may be slow, inconvenient and very old-fashioned, but it can't be beaten for defeating eavesdroppers!

I'm guessing that the Shuttle we saw landing isn't operational any more. Grounded ships are a favourite target in an alpha strike and the impact signature or signatures I saw looked quite adjacent. The poor 'Lamb' was perched up high in full view, too, unlike us!

That last shock was caused by a powerful sub-surface explosion, I'd say. Had to be both to rock us around like that. Probably enough for what Demolitions troops call the 'hangman's drop' effect. Very good for taking out fortifications, if enough explosive content can be got underneath them! Nearby objects on the surface drop into the camouflet-void created by the explosion. Someone obviously didn't like something in Algor City!"


TAG: Intervention (For Vacks and any intercepts). Anyone else.

 

IC: Colonel Chris Streets, Luck's Gamble
Location: near Draukyse


Whilst the LG's quad-lasers tracked and shot at the starfighters, the Colonel was contemplating their presence.

"Those fragging little things didn't make it this far out from Draukyse on their own." He did not yet know of the theory that the Bacta Hauler had come from beyond the wormhole. Come to that, he did not yet know about the wormhole!

"Doing a full spectrum tranceiver sensor sweep," He advised Pilot Officer Lasca.

ping

"What the feth was that?" Chris enquired at the momentary trace at the edge of their sensor range. An idea occurred to him, but it was quickly followed by the offer he had made to Winterkill.

Those five minutes were up.

"CAP, there is something else out here. Edge of our sensor range." He transmitted to Specter. "We have to book to try and get help, so you are on your own now." Chris turned off the comlink and looked aside at Sunri as the other steered for empty space. "Alright. Next stop, Draukyse. And step on it."

Tag: Skywalker_T-65 (Sunri Lasca), greyjedi125 (Winterkill)

 

IC: Benjamin Totter
CAP, near Johnny Boy, deep space (aka Outer Space)


The enemy fighter remained in his sights, constantly there, but also constantly avoiding being destroyed. But also, it seemed, keeping him busy and away from Specter. Another blast of his X-Wing's laser cannons, both emitting laser cannons being opposite from each other from port upper to lower starboard, and the bolts split the fighter perfectly upper and lower as the pilot seemed to effortless rotate his craft from horizontal to vertical without any effort what-so-effort.

"Sith!" Totter breathed, seeing what seemed like his half-dozen shot go to waste. Perhaps part of his failure was his complete unfamiliarity with the X-Wing and his extensive knowledge of the TIE/LN starfighter from his Imperial service days. While Totter could certainty blame part of his poor performance on that fact, he also knew the rather over extensive sweat rolling down his face and soaking the insides of his flight suit was from his prior drinking before the hop, in which case he took a few black market pills to off-set the effects (but clearly black market didn't mean "quality" by any standards). But, Totter knew deep down what the real reason was and the whole reason why he drank his memories away every day...

TBC (Part 1 of 3; will finish tomorrow evening)

 

IC: Owen Byrne
On approach to Algor

“What is it R?” Owen asked, eyes closed, in response to his astromech’s alarming beeps. The white and orange droid emitted several dire noises. Owen opened his eyes a little to see the translation on his read out screen. “What, an Imp-star and a Lancer-class frigate, we don’t stand a chance against that,” He looked out the window. He saw the grey triangle of the dreaded Imp-star. His stomach turned, his Anvil wouldn’t last long against a full assault from that starship. Also opening his eyes started the vertigo and dizziness he felt in Starfighters, something about seeing movement but, not feeling it caused severe motion sickness. Made worse by the inner ear damage he sustained a while back. “Maybe they don’t see us.” He said already fighting back bile. “Our employer said we’d have a distraction. There’s nothing we can do now except continue the mission.” Owen closed his eyes and waited for either a tractor beam, a laser blast or, a landing. After a few minutes he cracked his left eye a little and saw flames and explosions. “Looks like we did get that distraction after all,” Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Skipray Blastboat on a landing pad surrounded by troops an AT-ST and other walkers. “R mark that Skipray on my map. I might have to help out whoever’s there.” The R2 series tweeted a reply. “Good” R had plotted a course that avoided the air defenses, not an easy task with a Y-wing, and landed on a pad close to the main action.

Owen jumped out and lowered the external cargo bay. He acquired a cargo pod with the Anvil so he could keep his arms and armor with him rather than shipping them or hitching a ride on a shuttle. He put on his Mark III Katarn armor and checked the power cells in his backpack. He’d probably need every shot from his Z-6 if he was going to carry out his mission. His orders were to support pirate raiding parties on planet towards the completion of final objective. This struck Owen as rather vague but, who was he to argue with the man handing out credits.

TAG: @Intervention Tim Battershell

 

IC: Aidan Dodd
Blood Moon, GL Pad, Algor - Cronese Mandate.

Now this could be awkward. I don't want to disclose my change of allegiance to the Empire just yet; the added value from my Imperial Intelligence position and creedos is just too great to be simply tossed away. And this newcomer's presence is threatening to do just that!

Y-Wings (one of which he's parked on a Landing Pad a short distance away) aren't commonly flown by Imperial personnel and he's casually, almost arrogantly, dressed himself in what looks like late-model Clone Commando gear, complete with a rotary blaster of similar vintage.

If he starts using it on the Base personnel in view, and I don't take action to support them, then I'm shown to be anti-Imperial by inaction. On the other hand, I don't really want to have to eliminate this idiot in case he's useful to us, that is Vacks and me, later.

However, 'on the Gripping Hand' - as that old Sci-Fi story neatly put it - my options are limited by the instructions from that ISB 'Plank' in AADM Control. Don't exit the ship! Don't lift the ship! Wait for Liaison Officer and Inspection Team - if they're even coming, given the attack. No telling when that will be repelled or if whoever launched it has other surprises planned.

As a compromise solution, I instruct 'Passepartout' to keep a sensor on this character. If he proves hostile to the Base personnel and wanders within the arc of Blood Moon's Tractor Beam, then I want him given an elevation increase of about ten metres AGL and a good shaking! That should spoil everyone's aim, show I've done what I can as a loyal Imperial - and make the intruder available, alive and relatively undamaged, to be taken into custody. Best I can concoct on the spur of the moment!


TAG: Intervention, galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Bacta Hauler Derelict, Quarters of the Captain.

Making his way down the halls he noted and shut down his comm as he brushed off the odd nostalgia that seemed to leave almost as soon as it came.

Still the haunting moment bugged his mind as he cleared his way to the quarters. Sweep left. Sweep down. Sweep up. Sweep Right. Sweep down. Sweep across. Sweep diagonal. Stay shrink the box, and begin measured advance.

It wasn't long to the quarters. He grabbed his back pack and resettled it with the lock box added. Across the hall he set up his torch and cut out the key pad lock to expose the hidden wires beneath. It only took a moment to pull out a lock pic from a leg pouch, with a flick of his wrist his blade was out, with a hum that could not reach his ears he cut the wires and popped them into the appropriate slots and watched as the light on the device went from red, to yellow, and finally to green before turning azure. The seal was broken but there wasn't enough power in this section to open the door. Sighing he leaned in and put his back into sliding the door to the side. A soft sigh seemed to escape as for a brief moment he was pushed away as the air escaped into the space that had invaded so ruthlessly the hauler.

Once inside he noted he had finally gotten into the Captain's quarters. A quick look revealed a holo-collection in a rack on a desk. Otherwise very utilitarian. Where it was written captains had to keep their quarters neat was beyond him, but he approved as only mess he could see could be applicable to the decompression. Moving to the middle of the room he stood still, a flash of memory whipped before his eyes as he remember a live training exercise. Correctly profile a rooms hidden cache, choose poorly and you would activate a booby trapped false location with anything from near fatal animals to nearly fatal levels of gas, electrocution, or other form of self inflicted pain. Of course that would not pass unless you left the room with the stash. No matter what. Animal from his old team had triggered all but one trap it was said, well that and he had spent two days in that room before leaving with the loot. Hopefully this would go better he mused.

Grabbing the torch again from his belt he moved to the shelves, a quick inspection and tap later he was pulling it away to reveal a wall safe. A minute later Lasso was calling for them. "Almost." he muttered and stayed at it. A minute more and the safe cracked open as Taab yammered in his ear. He didn't care.

Looking on in wonder he stared at the Arkanian Sweet Milk, a large bottle of milky white that matched his eyes. A drink that he had not had since his farewell from Arkania itself those years ago. With teary eyes batted aside a bottle of wookiee wine to grab that bottle of strong mead that could put humans so easily under the table. Taab spoke again in his ears and he flicked the comm as he sniffed to himself. "Coming. Don't wait." with that he cut the line and knowing he could not return with only this to show he opened a belt pouch to remove a padded collapsible bottle cradle which he carefully put the white bottle into. Checking he grabbed another bottle of some Verpine whiskey and a small lock box. Turning he removed a thing of tape and tapped over the front of the rack of holo-discs.

Within a minute he had the extra bottle and the short rack of vids taped to his backpack and heading for the exit. He kicked, kipped and sped his way. No longer checking corners as his mind thought of a race with a little sibling, "First one to the door wins! Looser takes credit for the broken vase!" with a soft chortle he flew through the door and through the bridge. His eyes were manic with glee as he spun through the hole in the front of the to grab his harness with a free hand snapping out. Spinning at a wide angle he pulled himself into his rig as he set one magnetic boot down on the hull.

A short span and he was set. Looking over he spotted the Mando and opened the comm. "Wanna race?" With a laugh and not waiting for anything he was blasting at full throttle after the shuttle as his eyes looked into the situation for the first time. "What in blazes am I doing?" he wondered aloud as he noted his own behavior.

TAG: Bravo, Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Benjamin Totter
CAP, near Johnny Boy, deep space (aka Outer Space)


Totter started hearing the warning beeps and whistles from his R2 unit, but he was too engrossed in memories to tell what it was...

TBC
OOG: Sorry, WORD and the boards don't like each other. The font I can't fix; had some family stuff come up, I'll have to finish this tomorrow. Sorry!

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Combat Escort, CAP, Johnny Boy

Before Masha could make it to the Johnny Boy, it had done her work for her, destroying the missiles closing in, leaving the fighters to her and the patrol. Maybe Winterkill's assessment was right, but the unknown enemy were being too cautious. Leading her to think that there likely weren't many of them, however fighters that size couldn't make it this far without a larger ship, which would also explain the larger cruise missiles which were fired at them. A nervous feeling sank into her gut, you could never truly know... This could just be a scouting party for a flotilla.

"I'm Joining your wing Edge! We need to wrap this up and get back in control of the playing field."

Nosing down to cross the path of the JB, Masha crossed the bow at a distance, hoping the fighters chasing the Merc's flagship wouldn't see her, Winterkill joined up with her as she began to make a wide arc to come underneath the fighters. "Specter, we're going to attack it from the front, below and out of it's field of view. Trying to avoid chasing it, I don't want to risk hitting the JB."

Where's our other fighter, she thought, Ace had been silent over the comms for a while.

"Ace, this is Edge, do you copy?"

TAGS: Intervention (Fighters & Ace), greyjedi125

 

IC: 'Ace' Benjamin Totter
Space, the Battle field of the CAP for the Johhny Boy

Humming to himself nearly non-stop had become a bit of thing, as well as keeping his mic turned off to keep from distracting other pilots. It wasn't like he was in charge anyway. An odd old tune played in his mind as he juked and dodged in a never ending cycle with his opponent fighter. The fact that the thing would not stop trying to kill him long enough for him to kill it was beginning to really be annoying.

The fact that his wing leader had already finished with his was disconcerting. Was he slipping? Was young Totter not making the mark for a true Ace? Nah, that was ridiculous and. . .some other long c-word that hurt his head to think of at the moment. Still he had shields. He had engines. He had guns. What more could a pilot ask for? As a slight shriek and drop in shield status showed up he nodded, "Right, a target that stays still."

As someone asked where he was he sighed, that sealed it. "Tarentek, you want to add a kill to your paint scheme?" he asked. It was the only warning, he continued with the hairball loops and dips but added a tell, a purposeful little pre-dip to show which way he was going to go. On third one the other guy picked up on it. "How have I not killed you yet if you are that slow." he muttered as he pointedly ignored the scribble scrolling on a screen as his shields dropped dangerously low.

"Tarentek, you have stick in three. Attack pattern Rebel Scum I Win! . . .Lock!" he called as he gave the tell and then shut off all but minimal power to engine, engaged maximum reverse thrust, rear shields high and extra juice to the lasers to burn extra hot. As the rapid deceleration caused darkness to take over it was a couple seconds as his head lolled and helmet tapped the sides of the cockpit before he woke back up with a jerk to grab the stick. "Replay!" he shouted as he took over.

On the small screen a wire frame render replayed that the enemy fighter had overshot him both with it's blasters and in flying past like a shot from the high speed maneuvers. With all four lasers shooting at once as soon as a lock sounded the initial blast had caused the enemy craft to tumble, and then three second of alternating linked shots had rendered the enemy craft to debris just as he woke back up. "Congratulations Tarentek, a kill to paint on your chassis."

The twiddling reply said something about requesting a license to kill, which he shook off before reengaging the engines to push himself to rejoin the lead. "Nope. Then I would have to worry about you finding me late too much." Flicking a switch to reactivate his comms he shook his head to help himself re-orient. "Ace does not do copies but is back on wing." A string of beeps and boops let him know the droid had stated itself back on wing as well. "Yeah yeah, glory hog. Just remember who added those programs!"

Bzzzzt!

"Not Pic! Me you ingrated scrap of. . .you left the comm open didn't you."

Beep.

Flicking it off he muttered, "I hate you so much."

Across the screen with another beeps and bleeps a message scrolled by ignored, "Love you too."

TAG: greyjedi125, Heavy Isotope, Bravo

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab/Atin Taab
Aboard the wreck/Speedy Trial

Taab shifted his weight, alternating between his left and right foot. He shouldn't do it he knew. He should stay balanced and ready, but things aboard the wreck had calmed considerably. With the Skipper safely aboard the Speedy Trial, all Taab was doing now was waiting, for Jeth. Taab looked through the ragged hole in the outer hull, out towards the ship that would bring them to safety. It still hung there, motionless (relative to the wreck anyway) and waiting for them.

"Coming. Don't wait." from Jeth.

"Like hell," Taab grumbled to himself, though he didn't bother transmitting. The Major was supposed to be just picking up his kit, but this was taking longer then expected. Taab doubted the Arkanian had run into anything he couldn't handle, there had been no sense of urgency in his voice. It was more likely that the Major had found something of value to scavenge, the Mandalorian could only assume that it was something worthwhile.

He looked back into the wrecked bridge now. He was no stranger to death and the bodies floating about didn't bother him, despite their irregularities. Now, in stark contrast to the queasiness he had felt earlier at being in zero-G, he now found his stomach grumbling. Too bad he couldn't partake of any warra nut right now. Crunching on them would have helped pass the time. Instead he started to hum absent mindedly, a tune with no name. No real end, and no real beginning. For some reason that seemed to fit the setting right now.

"Wanna race?"

It was the Major who had finally come bounding into the bridge. He seemed almost manic. Apparently this away mission agreed with him. Taab responded, keeping his voice calm and cool. "No need Major. You go first and I'll follow." Taab kept an eye on Jeth as he prepared himself for transit as well. The Major finished first and was off without another word, Taab watched as he crossed the short distance between ships. As soon as he was safely aboard the Speedy Trial, Taab gave one last glance to the bridge and then pushed himself out into space as well.

---

Speedy Trial

Atin waited, and waited...and then waited some more. The fighter screen had long since moved on from protecting them and now the Trial simply sat here, exposed. He started to tap his foot against the deck and then his thumb on the ship's throttle. This was taking too long. What was the holdup?

As his foot tapped he felt a soft tremble through the ship. Glancing out the canopy he saw his father fling himself off the wreck. The tremble must have been Major Jeth, two down, one to go. The pilot watched as his father glided almost peacefully over to the Trial, it may have been the only time the young man had ever associated "peaceful" with anything his father did. He watched until he could no longer see him around the curve of the Sleuth Scout's own hull. A moment later a third and final thump announced his father's arrival aboard ship.

"We're all here Scorch." The emotionless words echoed through Atin's bucket. "Roger that," he replied, unable to keep the relief from his voice. He noted that he had stopped tapping his foot and thumbs now. Instead his hands and feet were steady as he reached for the controls and started the process of getting them back through the debris field, and to the Johnny Boy. "Throttling up now."

TAG: Bravo, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Winterkill
Deep Space, Johnny Boy, CAP

[“Specter, we're going to attack it from the front, below and out of it's field of view. Trying to avoid chasing it, I don't want to risk hitting the JB.”]

“Copy that.”

No more words needed be spoken. Both Edge and Specter worked in tandem to bring down the enemy tango.

Masha had said, ‘out of his field of view’, which translated a bit different to Winterkill. Since pilots did not literally used their ‘eyes’ to determine enemy locations, it was understood that the intention was to feed his sensors misinformation. This was something he would ‘see’.

Winterkill took the low course and was coming in hot, stuttering luminous lances of destruction just ahead of the enemy tango’s flight path. The tango was quid adept at avoiding, which was not surprising, but that was exactly what he was supposed to do. He was now clear to be tagged by pilot Tinovorsh.

It was a quite the flanking maneuver and one that as executed with deadly precision.

Silently, the nagai allowed himself to enjoy Masha’s kill shot.

‘Ghast’ suddenly disrupted the moment as he tweeted and chirped, the sound coming in a bit garbled inside the pilot’s cockpit.

“I know you’re doing your best to compensate for the system lag, we shouldn’t out here much longer.”

Winterkill wanted to laugh a he living comedic irony of hearing himself attempting to reassure an astro-mech droid. The Muse of Comedic Irony must be alive and well somewhere in the universe.

“Oh!? did he now, by himself even…?”

The fading flash on his sensor and the vanishing blip which was designated ‘tango 2’ confirmed Ghast’s report. Ace did manage to take care of the last remaining tango without assistance.

Hmm. Perhaps the reports on his file on his piloting were accurate after all, character evaluations not-withstanding. Not much different from his own, come to think of it.

[“Ace, this is Edge, do you copy?”]

The response came via Ace’s astro-mech rather than the pilot himself. An answer was better than none. Ace was now rejoining the CAP and the initial flight was formed once more with all fighters in formation.

[ This is Specter to the JB, CAP successful, the coast is clear. Repeat, CAP successful. Continuing with defensive patrol.]

They’d all survived the first round, but not completely unscathed. The JB was not 'fully operational' yet and were still under an alert status. Plus, those fighters had to come from somewhere. The real enemy had yet to reveal themselves.

No, they could not afford to relax, not even during the small breather. That’s exactly when a real assassin would strike. In that moment when you let your guard down, even for a brief second.

[CAP, lets resume defensive formation around the JB. This is far from over.]


Tag: @Intervention, @Heavy Isotope, @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Deputy Al'Kesh, Al and Izzy (security npcs), Crewperson Mary Formal, Security Office and Armoury, Johnny Boy
Location: near Draukyse


Al'Kesh held onto the door jamb as the ship shuddered to some external influence, and winced at the meaty thud behind him.

The rocking deck had caught Formal by surprise, knocking her off her feet, the split of her outfit revealing enough leg to appease the grinning Izzy, whilst Al took a deep breath to steady himself, and actually leaned down to help her up off the floor.

"Thank you," She smiled up at the Security human. With a start, she realised how much she did not see the differences between the crew, after spending so long with them. But here, at the entrance to the Security Office, it was an interstellar version of the United Nations, with Twi'leks, Arcateenians, Devaronians, and humans represented equally among the four crew-mates.

"No problem." The man smiled, popping her back onto her feet.

"Oh, you dropped this," Izzy finally did something useful, sinking to one knee, but Al and Mary quickly realised he was staying down there way too long, gazing at her pins while a hand blindly felt around the floor for the 'Roberta' holdout pistol that he had ostensibly gone down to retrieve for her.

"Izzy." Al chided, looking at Mary as she brushed herself down. "Sorry about him."

Mary did not complain, even at the gutteral sound the Twi'lek was making deep in his throat as he gazed at her pale flesh. "It's not a problem."

ALL HANDS. ATTENTION. ALL REMAINING STARFIGHTER PILOTS. GEAR UP AND GET TO YOUR SHIPS. BRIDGE OUT.

Al'Kesh looked at her in concern. "We met the Luck's Gamble when you were bringing the Cathar casualty aboard. Aren't you a pilot?"

"Not for starfighters. Shuttle only."

"What's the difference?" Izzy asked from knee-level.

"For a start, if I went out there in one of the X-Wings for example, I'd be a twenty-minuter, a life-span of twenty minutes-"

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"-the first nineteen minutes of which would be spent trying to get out of the hangar without destroying the rest of the ship." She was exaggerating slightly for effect. It stood to reason that she couldn't have been that bad to get the Luck's Gamble out of the hangar, for their departure to Craci in the first place. She put her palm out for Izzy, who grasped it and pulled slightly to help himself up.

"Thanks."

"The gun?" She arched her eyebrows at him in question.

"Oh!" The Twi'lek had forgotten the weapon, which was still on the floor. "Doh, sorry." He bent over, swept it off the floor and slapped it into her unmoved palm.

"Thanks." She shook her head, examining the weapon. There were a couple of new scratches on one side from its time on the floor. She was not pleased. She'd only had it a few days.

"Job done." The only customised B2 reported from inside the office, drawing the Deputy's curiosity.

"What do you mean, 'job done'? You haven't started firing yet."

"Job done."

"Alright, all of you, out of there. Back into the corridor, please."

"Roger Roger."

"Roger Roger."

"Roger Roger."

"Roger Roger."

"Ready to work."

"Roger Roger."

Everyone watched as the half-dozen heavy set battle droids about-faced and exited the room neatly, filing past the open counter to the hallway.

By unconscious agreement, Al'Kesh and Mary moved inside the room, side-by-side, 'Roberta' leading Mary's entrance, and the Blastech DL-18 with which Al'Kesh had had his portrait painted, leading his.

Their eyes darted round the inside of the security office, "Where in Flamewind did those things go?"

"Perhaps you scared them off. QRF's reputation preceeds you."

Both Mercs stepped deeper into the room, starting to draw level with Security Chief Taab's desk and chair on their left, with Formal closer to it.

"If our reputation was that good, they would never have boarded in the first place."

"Everything alright in there?" Izzy enquired from the doorway.

Al'Kesh pushed deeper into the room, aiming his blaster into dark corners, or up towards the shelves or top of cabinets, whilst behind him, Mary stopped to regard the Chief's chair.

The black leather seat was still caked with white fire retardent, but the blue gunge from the buzz droid that tried to pierce her hand, was gone.
The black leather cushion was...different, not showing the pressure of the Mandalorian's backside, but smoothed out.

Mary continued to stare, oblivious to whatever else was going on.

The cushion began to rise, as if she were seeing an injury weal forming, then a bruise the same colour as the black seat, then something several inches long extruded from the surface of the seat like a, well, just like a...no, wait.

The end of the stiff black extrusion was starting to revolve, spinning up into a blur.

Zzzzzzzzzzz

Actually, it was now less like a thingie, and more like a rotary ca-

"Down!" She lunged at and tackled the Devaronian as a miniature volley of glowing yellow plasma pellets, severely downsized versions of what Frank and Trasks had been unleashing around the ship, sprayed up at Al'Kesh's head, puncturing the wall high up towards the ceiling.

The Security second collapsed to all fours shrieking in pain and holding a hand protectively to his scalp, with the seated Formal leaning back on him on the floor between him and the chair, legs splayed in a V towards it, and bringing up Roberta to return fire.

The seat jumped on it's five wheels as her low-angled blaster bolt took took it under the seat, scorched stuffing fountaining slowly behind it. Somehow providing locomotion to its wheels, the chair swerved around the desk and exited the office, Izza and Al falling left and right away from its path.

"They're attacking our cities!" Phoom! The sound of Super Battledroid arm cannon fire echoed through the doorway.

"What. The. FRIK?!"

"Language." Al'Kesh chided in a tense voice.

"Language?" She echoed in some shock. "Frak you! We just took fire from a chair!"

"Gives new meaning to the term, 'seat of power', doesn't it."

"Yeah, keep coming with the puns. You're a funny frakker." Mary could tell that she was badly rattled by the new development. They had tried to tell her that wierd things happened around The Mercs, but this took the fragging biscuit. C'Boath on a bike; I'm even thinking in F-words.

Standing over her fellow Merc, she took her eye off the doorway to help him up. "Al'Kesh, you okay?"

"No!" The man was unmoved beside her, still crouched over. "Hit me in the horn!"

Phoom!

"Your horn?"Mary felt her face trying to contort into an amused smile and forced herself to keep a straight face. "You felt that? I thought your horns were just matted hair, like on a rhino."

The Deputy forced himself up, after a pause helped by Formal, and they went out into the corridor.
"Don't know who this Rhino fellow is, but I gaurantee you, if someone shot him in the horn, he wouldn't be happy."

You have no idea. "Where'd it go?"

"Down there to the left," Izzy pointed, struggling to pull himself up onto the counter, and steady himself. "But don't worry, it won't get far. Ship is on lockdown remember; how's it going to open the doors?" He spotted Al'Kesh's pained expression. "Boss, you okay?"

"He got hit in the horn."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Al'Kesh eyed Izzy and Mary. "I shouldn't have to say this, but it doesn't mean what you think it means." He looked towards his team of SBDs. "You lot on an oil break? Fetch."

"Ready to work" preceded a flurry of "Roger rogers" and the half-dozen dark-metalled automatons lumbered off.

"We need to call the bridge."

"And tell them what? That we got hit by a chair?"

"But I know what happened to the chair." Some colour returned to Formal's face as the shock wore off. "At least I think I do."

Al noticed his boss seemed unwilling to leave his horn alone. He pulled his comlink. "I'll do the honours, shall I? Bridge from Security Office."

Tag: no-one