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

Game Master OOG: @greyjedi125, please reference Bravo, A moment ago for information regarding the latest installment in Ace's IC history. The latter parts of your post are somewhat invalid, but its more or less my fault, so just recon as needed after this post for Ace.

I'm not trying to step on toes---I was trying to get this posted last night and epically failed because of the family situation that arose. I am so sorry if I am stepping on anyone's toes---feel free to smash mine in return.

In my following "Bravo" post, I will be speeding up our Bacta Hauler post. The timelines may blur some between Totter and the Bacta Hauler return, but as GM, I'm making the move for sake of time---kill two birds with one stone, verses waiting a whole week to complete the same action I could get done in one night (case in point, I have a company wide teacher meeting Wednesday night at one of our other centers, so that takes me out for Wednesday already for posting maybe).

On a technical note, although the T-65 X-Wing Wiki stats don't specify a ejection system, I am taking the canon approach with the death of Jek Tono Porkins' death in ANH and how he was told to eject before dying. The only logical way to do this since the Rebel Flight Suit is not self-contained like the TIE Pilots---at least at first glance---is to do some creative workings. Any comments on this approach would be appreciated OOG.

---

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


Totter remembered those dark, soulless eyes of Darth Vader. He had always dreaded becoming that thing and deep down in his soul, he knew that Darth Vader was the imagine---the embodiment---of the Galactic Empire. There were rumors about who Vader really was; some say he was the new military officer for the new Emperor after Anakin Skywalker's death. Others said that Vader was Anakin Skywalker, the stories of his death a cover story for his twisted and burned body from rumors of a fight with one of the traitorous Jedi at the end of the Clone Wars. Still, other rumors went around. Some said that Vader was a droid. Still others. The rumors were endless. So, you were able to make up your own story about who Vader was.

To Totter, Vader was everything he desperately didn't want to be---a man who had made the ultimate buy in, the ultimate sacrifice for the ultimate ideal of the Empire: order. Order was brought about my adherence to the ruling government. Vader was order: he was everything that the Empire was supposed to be: order and obedience to the system.

That system was supposed to be better then the Grand Republic. The Clone Wars was meant to prove that point. But, in the end, the Empire was too controlling, too authoritative, too systematic. Everything was order in the Empire, chaos of the Clone Wars and the Grand Republic turned into order and peace under the Empire.

Peace.

Peace was only brought about by adherence to the system. Adherence to the system only came through war. War came about for the need to make sure everyone bought into the system, whether by force or by free-will, to make sure peace was achievable.

Finally his astromech unit's alarming beeping and squeals got his mind to the here and now. He looked about, to see that the enemy fighter he was following was no longer there!

His heart stopped as he looked behind him and saw the fighter behind him, laser cannons chewing into his shields and then a concussion missile heading his way!

He had no time to respond, the missile was too close!

"Ace, this is Edge, do you copy?" came a voice over the comm.

"EJECTING!" Totter barked, flipping a switch as a self-contained half face mask swung around from the left and secured itself to his face, the mask automatically linking to Totter's life support box on his torso via wireless connection (while the mask itself was connected via a breathing tube to the ejection seat), and then he flipped his visor over his face, which sealed in place with the lower part of the part, effectively sealing itself. In that same moment, he pulled down the emergency ejection handle above and behind his head! All of this took only three seconds as he watched the X-Wing's canopy fly away away from miniature explosions along the edges to the cockpit itself and then his ejection seat rocketed him clear of the starfighter moments before the concussion missile slammed into his X-Wing, causing it and his astro droid to be lost.

The fighter zoomed past and then started looping around.

Totter's heart was racing! He fumbled around for the blaster rifle attached to the ejection seat, which was a modest E-11 Blaster Rifle. It would be more effective then his DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol holstered to his thigh, but against a starfighter, both weapons were equally useless. For the ejection seat, it adjusted Totter's flight path with minature roster pack adjustments to stay within the same location of his destroyed fighter for pick-up. In this case, Totter really wished he could override the system, which he could, but he still wouldn't have enough fuel to get back to the JB!

In the distance, the fighter was looping around, intent on finishing the job.

"EV Totter to all Merc forces. I am need of immediate assistance, I have a enemy fighter trying to take me down!"

"Okay," Totter told himself as he armed the blaster rifle and positioned it towards the enemy starfighter in the distance, "You want to be a mercenary and murder me outright? Fine, so be it! But I'll be sithed if you take me as a coward!"

If this was the end of the road, the end of the line, so be it. Totter would have to square himself with that. But, if somehow he made it through this alive, Totter promised himself he would stop drinking and turn around his life again. It may take some time---and a lot of mistakes along the way---but he would stop being a drunkard and do something useful with his life other then drink it away. These Mercs provided him with a chance to do that, maybe it would be time he used some of his old knowledge of the Imperial Navy to help them.

"By the Force," Totter breathed, "Please, give me one more chance. Please."

It was, now or never. He had one trick up his sleeve, one---as he lowered his hand to the ejection seat's manual controls and held his E-11 with his other hand towards the oncoming enemy starfighter. But he sure hoped the Mercs would reach him first before he had to use a maneuver he learned in the Naval Academy, a maneuver that was purely text-book and only ever done successfully a handful of times in the history of spaceflight. So, clearly, his chances at it's success were already slim...


TAG Heavy Isotope, Sith-I-5, greyjedi125
OOG: Bacta hauler group, wait to post until my next post with "Bravo," which should be tonight! Tim Battershell, galactic-vagabond422, and Wildwookiee, I am getting to your tags ASAP!

 

IC: Terrel Vacks
Algor


Terrel had taken the time to dedawn his Storm Commando armor. If this was going into a shoot-out, he'd rather be dressed in his best for his death then anything else. As he returned to the cockpit during their wait for the "inspection team," putting on his helmet as walked onto the cockpit, Snake was talking, as clearly the world had gone to crap in the relatively short time it took Vacks to change out,


"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!"

"The question," Vacks said, "Is who? Who has the guts to attack an Imperial planet like this? Let alone the AADM!"

Off in the distance, just outside the base, landed a Y-Wing, a man stepping out armed to the teeth, "Who the heck does he think he is?" Taller asked, pointing to the man, "Rambo?"

But below, along the ground, several pirates were running up to him!

"Okay Snake," Vacks said, "Its time we pick a side in this sudden shooting match! It may give us the cover we need to get free and, a course, find out who is attacking the Empire! Look," Vacks said, pointing to the Imperial forces guarding them, "Those troops look distracted enough with all the action in the sky. Do you have any ship defenses that could take a quick lick at them while we lift off? Like a ground buzzer or anything?"



TAG Tim Battershell

---

IC: Pirate Raiding Party
Algor, public landing pads outside the Imperial Base


"You made it!" the Duro pirate leading the rag-tag group of five others (including himself, six pirates) through the streets said to the Y-Wing pilot, "The boss said you'd be coming!"

The pirate grinned, "Boss man said you knew how to get some Stormies!" The pirate grinned bigger at the man's choice of weaponry, "There's a squad of plastic men holding down our boys near the bank we're robbing! We could sure use your skills! Come on, I'll show you the back way there! Follow me!"

The Duro turned and ran down the ramp and down through the streets, taking back alleyways to the bank. A course, the Duro didn't give his new team member all the information...that would come later, at the bank. You had to earn your right to be a pirate, a cutthroat pirate, and cutthroat was the key word...


TAG galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Lieutenant Hawkins
Location: "Base Camp," unknown planet

"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."

Priest's last comment about night rang true, too true, "I would assume then," Hawkins said, "That whoever---or whatever did this---is a creature of the night. Which makes this even more frustrating. Okay, gentlemen, divide and conquer is every commander's dream. You divide up a enemy formation and take them out one small bit at a time. We will not allow that. First Sergeant, the platoon remains here. Retain double guards at all check-points and sent out advance picket forces around the temple grounds. But we retain the base camp, fall-back in case of enemy action. But we hold the base camp at all costs, do you understand First Sergeant?"

"Perfectly, Lieutenant!" the First Sergeant replied crisply.

"Good," Hawkins replied, "I'll take Mr. Priest here and two other troopers. We will start at Corporal Andrews last known location and work out search pattern in that manner."

The First Sergeant nodded and then turn and barked orders, "George, Zimmer! On he LT on the double!"

The two troopers, George and Zimmer, made quick work to Hawkins area, saluting as they approached. Hawkins saluted back, "With Mr. Priest here, we'll go search for Corporal Andrews," Both troopers nodded and Hawkins looked to Priest and nodded the direction they'd be going.


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

Worship Doors


They had long passed the double guard at the last check-point this way, the same check-point that Andrews was last seen at. Nothing looked out of place as they walked the stone debris ground, seeing that Sensor Three was fully operational.

Hawkins knelt down and took a closer look at one of the rocks, "Interesting..." Hawkins said, "Blood...." the Lieutenant turned over a rock, "And lots of it."

On the other side of a stone that was clearly turned over, was blood and a fair amount. Hawkins followed the blood to the wall where a splatter mark was at, "The Search Team must of missed the blood on the wall in their haste," Hawkins assumed out-loud, seeing that the blood splatter was just that: blood had been forcefully ejected from a body at a speed to cause a splatter.

Hawkins got up and lead the group to the worship doors. The Lieutenant tried the doors, but they were as locked and closed as yesterday. But something seemed off about these doors...something dark was behind them.

"Priest," Hawkins said, "These doors look shut. But..." Hawkins pointed his rifle down both corridors leading off in different directions, "Other check-points are down those two corridors, standing sentry at exit/entrance doors leading outside the temple. And neither of those check-points reported anything," Hawkins looked back the way the group had come from, "And nothing but offices and rooms we cleared earlier in the day. So, the question becomes," Hawkins turned to Priest, "Whatever attacked Andrews last night had to come through these doors or through a hidden passage way somewhere in this temple. But these doors," Hawkins turned back to them, "Something doesn't feel right and it's giving me the creeps. Does your gear have any equipment that can give us any hint or any information about these doors? Anything?"


TAG Wildwookiee

 

Game Master OOG: Using previous mentioned GM power trip to forward things along for our Bacta tanker group to save time. Any concerns, just let me know. But I'm not directly touching anyone's characters IC.

I edited this post, to savor the moment of surprise. CAP, keep on your toes...those sensor readings on the edge of sensor range...yeah...hehehe...just a little while longer...

On a side note, I keep getting this imagine of Taab's office chair going through the hanger bay and Taab going, "You have got to be kidding me." That was a great post Sith!

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Hanger Bay, Johnny Boy


In a feat of flying precision, Atin had managed---with the back-seat nagging of a grandmother in Ler guiding him from the hanger bay----to connect the bacta globe to the Johnny Boy's fuel tanks. While Ler went about the technical details of sucking up the much needed fuel, Lasso had directed Atin to land his ship into the hanger bay.

Lasso was barely off the ship, Taab behind him and Havah in front, when the emergency comm line lit up in everyone's helmets; it was an emergency broadcast from a EV pilot.

"EV Totter to all Merc forces. I am need of immediate assistance, I have a enemy fighter trying to take me down!"

Lasso sighed as he looked back to Taab. Taab was no fool and neither was Lasso. With the Luck's Gamble gone in hyperspace for help, the Trial was their only other option for pick-up. While it was more likely that the CAP would make the intercept on the enemy fighter, someone had to rescue Totter, "It's your call Taab. He's your son. But make it quick and meet on the bridge in five minutes."

That was all Lasso was going to say. He knew father and son were having a moment of youthfulness up against experienced wisdom and that would be expected. But Captain or not, Lasso wasn't about to intervene in Taab's fathering affairs. Atin might be a Merc and under Lasso's command, but Taab was Atin's father, and sometimes family business had to stay family business.

Walking off the ship's ramp completely, Dak rushed up and gave Lasso and Havah the low down on the current crisis; at least six dead Mercs and possibly more was troubling to Lasso, but the young Corellian knew their line of business wasn't the most legal or safest either. After the debrief, Lasso said to Dak as the trio walked to the nearest turbolift, "Any further security concerns can be handled by Taab. He's concluding some business on the Trail and will be on the bridge shortly," Lasso was brief and to the point as the turbolift doors opened---where two B1 Battle Droids guarded several body bags in the lobby---and Lasso nodded for Havah to join him on the lift. As the lift doors closed, Lasso said, "Bridge."

Taking off his helmet, Lasso looked to Havah with a tired smirk, "After this is all over Havah, you and I are going to go visit every bar on Corellia."

The turbolift was short and the two Mercs walked out onto the bridge, "Report, Commander." Lasso said as casually, but as serious as possible. What he really wanted to say was to give his second-in-command a big thank you for keeping the ship together---least they weren't out of the hot water yet----but there was a time and place for that. Now wasn't the time nor the place. Later, with some of the other Mercs once they made it through this all, everyone could have a cold one and relax. But first, they had to make it through this crisis.


TAG Sith-I-5, Mitth_Fisto, Bardan_Jusik

 

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

More in hope than expectation, considering what's just happened on Algor, I stow the 'Thorne' IdentiCard and Rank Cylinders away in the smaller of the two 'hidden stashes', extract my own 'Adjustments-Issue' creedos from their place in my boot and, just in case, slip that ever-so-useful stylus into my boot's secret pocket to keep my issue Rank Cylinder company. For ease of access I stow my creedos in a convenient outer pocket on my uniform; although I hate having to do a 'Show you mine if you show me yours' dance with whoever turns up (it seems, and sounds, so childish), if anyone even does. Like it or not, though, it's the best - probably the only - way for two Intelligence Officers to establish who can tell who what when meeting for the very first time. It's not the most professional conduct to phrase it exactly that way, but occasionally worth doing for shock value or to see if the other Officer colours up!

Frankly, security levels and 'need-to-know' are a right pain in the rear most of the time.... except when really needed! Internal Counterintelligence, our own in-house counterpart to ISB, seems to have the right 'take' on it, though. IntCon, as it's affectionately known, has no internal barriers; what one Agent is cleared to know, all are.

"The question," Vacks says as his fully re-armed and re-armoured form returns to the cockpit, "Is who? Who has the guts to attack an Imperial planet like this? Let alone the AADM!.... Who the heck does he think he is? Rambo?" he adds as the Y-Wing pilot moves clear of his ship and a group of, what appear to be, pirates run towards him.

"Not enough data for meaningful answers"; I respond; "but obviously someone with Credits to burn on what seems little more than a distraction, and scant regard for keeping his organic underlings among the living!."

"Okay Snake.... Its time we pick a side in this sudden shooting match! It may give us the cover we need to get free and, a course, find out who is attacking the Empire! he replies, "Look, those troops look distracted enough with all the action in the sky. Do you have any ship defenses that could take a quick lick at them while we lift off? Like a ground buzzer or anything?"

"Nothing like that, though I'll take it under advisement!" I say, as I quickly run through options, "Don't forget, I only recently acquired this ship! I vote we try for 'Imperial-good-conduct' points and align ourselves with the Empire and people of Algor for the time being. As for the troops outside, let's try a little confusion - given someone let those bozos sneak within range and even down to the surface, it might even be true! Best sit down and strap in tight, things could get a little rough!"

I zero all encryption to send messages in-the-clear then key the ship's Comm....

"All Algor ground stations, this is unmarked Ubiqtorate Flight. In the Name and on the Authority of the Ubiqtorate and on your Obedience to the Emperor, I require you to disregard all orders from the station transmitting as AADM Control unless and until proven not to have been infiltrated or otherwise compromised by anti-Imperial elements attacking Algor. Break.... Imperial Personnel in GL area, redeploy immediately to assist other ground forces cleansing anti-Imperial and/or criminal scum from Algor City. Break.... Garrison Control, Set up to receive Sensor Data feed on Channel One-Two.... Lifting now in Air-Recon role, vox contact this frequency".

With a muttered "Here goes nothing" and a louder command to 'Passepartout' and my gunnery droids of "Battlestations! ROE Defensive only - Commence Sensor Scan and Transmission", I fling Blood Moon into the war-torn sky....


TAG: Intervention, (galactic-vagabond422)

 

IC: Captain Sard, Seige Team Six, NR2 Gully Jumper, Sardonic
Location: Algor


The NR2 Gully Jumper that was Sard's personal ship-to-shore transport, blasted a white frothy furrow through the ocean surface, as the craft blasted due South, very low over the water.

"Hundreds," he still echoed in a bit of a daze, recalling the Colonel's report back in the conference room.

He was doubly glad to be given the assignment to watch over this mysterious asset at the Southern Pole, both for it bringing him to Agent Ford's notice in such a way that it snatched his career from the jaws of defeat; and that it got him clear of the mass invasion of Clone Wars-era starfighters that had darkened the skies with their numbers as he ducked out of the garrison and ran across to the elevated landing pad at the rear, where the NR2 had been parked, with one of his bodyguard detail standing by the ramp.

Just four of the Vulture droids had peeled away from the aerial forces, to chase them.

But, unlike his escape flight on Ord Pardron, he the shuttle had weapons this time.

Double racks of energy torpedoes, ten each; and an anti-personnel "Groundbuzzer" laser cannon that dropped out of a belly aperture.

A bright yellow flash that reflected in the metal starboard window frames, vibrated the NR2 with the shock wave of its self-immolation.

The stormtrooper sitting in the gunnery/co-pilot seat in front of him, turned in his seat, to face him.
"Last tango destroyed, Sir." PRF-1299 (The Professor) announced. "No other sign of pursuit on sensors."

Sard nodded in relief. "Good work. Now get us back to the Hard Eight."

He had sent the Lancer-class frigate on ahead to this orbital holding sector Three-Three-One.

He had sent the armoured knee of the stormtrooper next to him, having made her his personal bodyguard since the ambush on Ord Pardron, those months ago.

“I'm supposed to be reassuring you, Sir.” Simone pointed out, glancing his way from the datapad open on her lap, “not the other way around.”

"Okay, reassure me that you know what a Space Master Medium Transport is." Sard retorted, referring to the asset that Ford had sent him to babysit. He leaned towards Simone's left shoulder, to see the green wire-frame design of some odd-looking craft revolve slowly on her screen, while she started reading from the sparse aurabesh.

"Technically, a Space underscore Master-class medium transport. Eighty metres. Built by Kuat Drive Yards. Circular command section at the front, engines at thr rear, and freight modules can be attached along the spine."

“She looks and sounds like a piece of sith.” Sard mused, as what he could see of the ocean out the front and side ports, flashed underneath them.

“Agreed, Sir.”

“So what's she carrying-” -that is so important?

Tag: Bravo

 

IC: Atin Taab
Speedy Trial

From the moment that Atin pushed the throttle's of the Speedy Trial forward things seemed to go quickly. The CAP had taken out any direct threats to the Johnny Boy, at least the ones that Atin could see anyway and aside from trying not to sideswipe any of the strange debris surrounding the wreck the trip back to their mother ship was a simple task.

Things were quiet on the Trial herself. His father said nothing and even the Captain seemed quiet, as did the Major. Or maybe Atin was just not paying attention, piloting his ship through the debris field with the added mass of the fuel pod behind him wasn't difficult, but it was something he had never done before in this vessel. He was far more focused on that than any banter that might be going on aft.

Finally approaching the Johnny Boy he was contacted by LER. Just as Atin had never flown his A-24 Sleuth Scout in these conditions before, he had never undergone UNREP (UNderway REPlenishment) training of this sort either. It took some doing, and some fancy tractor beam management, but eventually the pod was secured by the Johnny Boy and Atin brought his own ship into her hanger bay.

Extended his ship's landing struts he settled her down gently onto the deck and his passengers departed, a few moments later though the comm system in his bucket crackled to life.

"EV Totter to all Merc forces. I am need of immediate assistance, I have a enemy fighter trying to take me down!"

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Hanger bay, Johnny Boy

Taab sat in the now repressurized escape pod, decompressing after the mission. It had been an oddly stressful one, though in action it had been a blue milk run. Still he found his thoughts starting to drift to Fett's appearance and his warning. He was shaken from those thoughts as the Speedy Trial clanked down on the hard deck of the Johnny Boy's hanger. That hadn't taken long, though to be honest Taab hadn't been paying much attention to the return trip or the mundane task of refueling the Corvette they called home. Well, now that they were down it was time to go back to work.

He got up off the escape pod's grav couch and rolled his shoulders. It really was quite cramped in here with all his gear. It made him glad he had left his carbine back here. Jumping down off the scout ship his buy'ce automatically synced itself with the Johnny Boy's internal comm system. The chatter he over heard was...disconcerting. Before he could make heads or tails out of what was going on though another comm call came in.

"EV Totter to all Merc forces. I am need of immediate assistance, I have a enemy fighter trying to take me down!"

Shab it all. The downed pilot had used his real name instead of his callsign over an open emergency channel. They were probably encrypted, but it was still sloppy. If it were just up to Taab he would let the man die out there for such an offense. Then, as if the universe had heard him, the Captain turned to him and spoke simply.

"It's your call Taab. He's your son. But make it quick and meet on the bridge in five minutes."

Of course, the Trial now was the only ship that could effect rescue and the Skipper was letting Taab decide whether to send Atin back out or not. Taab mulled it over quickly. He would like to see Totter pay for his mistake, even if it cost him his life, but he couldn't risk that whatever enemy was out there would capture the man. They could get far more out of thim than a name. So in the end, there was no call to make. The Trial was the best ship to go out there and rescue their downed pilot. He commed his son, who was still going through the shutdown procedure for his ship and then started on his way to the bridge.

---

Speedy Trial

"Scorch, get your shebs out there. Looks like you get to put some CSAR training to good use." The message from his father came in loud and clear. CSAR, Combat Search And Rescue work was dangerous, but his father had sent him off without much thought. Either he has confidence in me or there is no other choice thought Atin to himself as he again launched the ship out of the hanger bay.

"Scorch to CAP," he commed out on the Mercs secure frequency. "I am outbound for Search and Rescue. Give cover if you can."

TAG: Bravo, Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, Heavy Isotope, Sith-I-5

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Algor

"You made it!" Owen turned to see a group of six pirates running towards him. "The boss said you'd be coming!" He noticed a grin on the Duros’ face. "Boss man said you knew how to get some Stormies!" the grin grew. Owen was instructed to follow the small party to a bank and help another team that was pinned down. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Skipray take off.

Good luck up there, He thought to himself. As he followed the raiding party, his mind drifted to the stormtroopers he was about to attack. He knew the training they went thought and the mental component that comes with it. The brainwashing, the reverence of the Emperor, all the things designed to make you loyal to the point of death for the Empire. At one time Owen was willing to lay down his life for the Empire, not for the Emperor but, for the men beside him. Until those men proved to be nothing more that butchers or nerfs that follow orders blindly. He felt heart rate spike. The screaming of women and children filled his ears, until they were silenced by a deep gravelly voice.

“Solider,” it shouted “focus or die your choice.” The voice wasn’t one of the pirates but, his father's. Owen took a deep breath and pressed on through the side streets. Ready for whatever came next.

TAG: Intervention Tim Battershell

 

IC: Aidan Dodd
Blood Moon, Over Algor City - Cronese Mandate.

I'm gratified to hear the B1 Droids' duet of 'Aye Aye, Captain' in response to my command; it's a great improvement over their default acknowledgement setting.... now if the reprogramming can only hold!

I'm keeping Blood Moon in her 'wings horizontal' landing configuration for the time being, as nothing around here can be definitely be classed as 'friendly' yet. That configuration has already proved its worth by enabling me to skim low over the GMLA's boundary wall without the ship catching on anything. The wing-tip Ion Cannons can still fire, so it's not much of a disadvantage and it also allows the turret guns to fire directly into our 'Six'; the preferred position for attacking enemy fighters.

The said lack of ability to class anything as 'friendly' also accounts for me heading down this, fortunately fairly straight, street at below roof-top height. I intend to climb to Reconnaissance Altitude once we have opened enough range to give the Base weaponry difficult deflection shots, while still keeping in close enough to outpace the weapons' slew rates.

The TIEs should still have enough Vultures around to keep them busy for the moment - and I don't want to have to fire on the Imperials at all, if I can help it, it would spoil the image I want to create! In any case, TIEs aren't at their best in atmosphere, it's well known that their vertical wing panels give them severe yaw problems when turning; so tight, low-altitude, turns should be enough to dodge them.

Of more pressing concern are the Vultures; but I can, at least, engage them. It'll help that they are operating in both a gravity-well and atmosphere as, from what I remember, they have short endurance before needing to return to their carrier to refuel.... unless this lot have been significantly modified, of course. About half an hour's worth of endurance is what I remember, adjusted for needing to run their propulsion systems all the time down here due to atmospheric drag. After that, standard Vultures have to land and reconfigure into 'walker' mode. What I don't know is if this lot are the earliest type that only fire energy torpedoes or the later ones that can discharge missiles with a multi-buzz-droid warhead. Probably my best tactic against either weapon is to get as far into the ground-clutter as possible to confuse the seeker-heads, then pull up sharply into a loop. Hopefully, the TIEs will also be keeping the Vultures fairly busy - but there seem to be a heck of a lot of them from the sensor traces, notwithstanding that the TIEs are getting in some free live-fire target practice, and seem to be doing fairly well!

"Anything really valuable in Algor City, do you know, Terrel?", I ask, "Like a fire-gem depository, large aurodium vault or similar, for instance? Otherwise I really don't get the why of this. What I've seen of the ground troops look like pirates, and pirates want an easy, and substantial, return for their efforts. A swarm of Vulture Droids can't come cheap; then there's the cost of whatever vessel or vessels they launched from. Even without the ISD's firepower, there are enough smaller Imperial warships in-system to make crewing on the launch vessels a suicide mission. Wouldn't surprise me if the only brains involved on that end of the operation were circuitry.


TAG: Intervention

 

IC: Various crew, Johnny Boy corvette
Location: near Draukyse


MCPO Wa Yay and Herdfeld were still in Astrometrics, and working on different things. While the large-headed technician was explaining to the Bridge that he thought Crewperson Formal and Deputy Al'Kesh were talking about nanites, or nano-technology.

"And what is nano-technology when its at home?" She heard the Commander query from Herdfeld's comlink.

For her part, she was liaising with Charlie Watertin, who had finished his repairs, and moved on to fixing their sensors. Long overdue, as far as she was concerned.

"Watertin, how long now? Luck's Gamble indicated there was something else out there, beyond its range."

"Can't they go a bit closer and have a look?"

Wa Yay pursed her scaled lips. "Well not now, no. They have just jumped to light speed." She waited for a response from the usually unkempt deck hand, then frowned. "Watertin? You there?"

"Um, I have a problem here."

"Dropped a prybar?"

"Not quite. Found one of your Pistoeka Sabotage Droids, or rather, it has found me."

Wa Yay's eyes widened in consternation. "Don't let it touch you!" She warned.

* * * *
JB' sensor conduit

At Wa Yay's shouted warning, Watertin ceased his tentative attempts to stamp on the wing-fluttering Buzz Droid that had just melted its way through the wall, and was on the floor of the cramped tech room, and squeezed backed into the corner, trying to put the multi-armed Treadwell repair droid that had joined him between them.

He showed his palms to the intruder. "Easy there, Tiger."

The door he had come through himself to enter the chamber, slid up, a black-torso'ed Artoo unit entering, swaying forward ever so slightly as it applied the brakes, spotting the Buzz Droid on the floor before it.

Watertin recognised the elf's droid, Deputy. "Go get help!" he called towards it, but was soon coughing as the astromech spurted white fire retardent over the Pistoeka from behind, filling the tiny room with the noxious-smelling white vapour, and depositing moist white powder across the top of the Buzz Droid, which promptly turned around on its stubby little legs, un-cowed by the Artoo unit that now towered above it, tinnily whistling, What's you're fracking game?

Poww!

The thin blue electrical arc from Deputy's now exposed electro-jabber, the bane of Yavscout's companionship, took the Buzz Droid full in the largest of it's photoreceptors, all of them going dark, the droid going inert.

Made'ja look. Deputy blooped with characteristic smugness, checking through the still drifting haze towards the far corner, where the crouching Watertin, holding a breathmask to his face with one hand, gave the droid a grateful thumbs-up with the other.

"Watertin!" Wa Yay called from his comlink, "Help is on the way."

"It's alright, Deputy's here. He sorted it."

* * * *
Bridge - Command Deck

Yavscout had scared up a broom from somewhere, and was hastily brushing still-stunned bees across the deck to a black bin liner that he had found in one of the emergency lockers, whilst having a four-way conference call with Al'Kesh, Formal and Herdfeld.

"Nano-tech refers to machines created at the microscopic level." Herdfeld was explaining with patient excitement. "From what the Deputy and Ms Formal describe, the blue material must be the Pistoeka's method of delivering nanites, which is what we call the very tiny robots, into people's bodies. The nanites then rewrite the very building blocks that make that person...them." The Toong paused, then continued, his voice breathy with even more excitement. "We have to capture one alive, well, in one piece at least."

"Frag that!" Al'Kesh didn't sound too happy with the idea. "I don't know if you've been keeping up with current events, but we're getting our choobies kicked, down here."

"Frankly, I agree with the Deputy." Yav put in his two creds, pausing to rest with his hands atop the broom, and surveying the pile of bees he had placed next to the bag, and what he had left to do.

"Neither of you understand what we have here." Herdfeld interjected.

"Actually, I think you explained it quite well." Mary put in.

"Let me finish. Security Unit Eight, at the site where Pilot Officer Siera Trasks detonated-"

"'Detonated'. Now, that is an interesting term-"

"-scanned chunks of Mandalorian iron around the blast sight. Apart from Chief Taab and Pilot Officer...Taab, and some trace elements in the hull, we have no Mandalorian iron. Don't you get it? The nanites created it out of Trasks!"

"Now that's just frakkin' disgusting."

"Captain on the Bridge!" Sounded from the Security Station below the command deck.

"Oh, frak!" Yavscout looked around, panicked, stunned bees still covering the command deck, his own seat cushion stuffed full of bees and zipped up, Jase' seat cushion emptied of it's block of dense yellow sponge, and sitting deflated next to the pile of bees, and the footfalls of Jason Lasso ascending the steps to the elevated Command Deck. "Guys, I'm going to have to drop out of this conversation!"

The elf's eyes widened at a brainwave borne of desperation. He backed two large paces to the safety railing at the front of the command deck, faced aft, and cast Camouflage.

Light blue sparkles rained over him just as Lasso's head started to come level with the deck, and every bee that was visible on the floor, either in the pile by the bin liner, or still waiting to be swept up, vanished. They were still physically there, but unseen, and as long as Jase did not step on any, they should remain invisible for another twenty-eight Standard Minutes, which if the Commander timed it right, he could be away from the scene of the crime, preparing his alibi: Captain. I was at a family barbecue.

"Report, Commander." The still-vacsuited Lasso instructed.

"Err...err..." There was an embarrassing clatter as the red-handled broom fell away from him and bounced off the railing. "Hi!" He stared at his superior for several more seconds. "Report, yes. Report. Okay-dokey, we...we have two, yes, two engines working out of the three; shields on one side of the ship are up to sixty percent, while the other is still at just ten percent. We have no actual sensors but what we have jury-rigged with astromechs on the hull, though I understand Wa Yay and Watertin are close to bringing that back up. We still have no Comms." He paused for breath, and when the Captain did not jump in, inhaled and continued, getting more confident as he recalled never telling Jase about the Stinging Swarm debacle on the Strident Haze, so while there were ameoba on Mimban that would connect a carpet of bees to the elf, there was a chance that Jase wouldn't, and he had to cling to that.
"I regret to inform the loss of several crew. Five including Jedi Master Mahaben. Several non-fatal injuries. Medical and crew quarters are fragged. We still have a buzz droid problem; not all of them are tracked down. Oh, and that private count we have going of how many days since Jedi Liaison Timothy Waters did anything remotely useful. Tomorrow will be a new Day One."

Tag: Bravo (Lasso), Mitth_Fisto (if Havah followed Jase to the command deck)

OOC: 1) Captain. I was at a family barbecue. is pretty much a direct quote from Bad Boys 2.

2) Al'Kesh paraphrases Private Hudson's line from Aliens.

3) The Strident Haze was an Imperial frigate that the Mercs infiltrated in the last game.

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Combat Air Patrol, Johnny Boy

The explosion made no sound, it's radiant fire burned out quickly as the oxygen reserves in the ship were used up. Winterkill executed their maneuver with precision, the fighter was easy prey, it's focus too linear on the corvette. Masha felt lucky, whomever the pilot was, they weren't focused or they would have checked their radar.

"EJECTING!"

What the.... ?

"EV Totter to all Merc forces. I am need of immediate assistance, I have a enemy fighter trying to take me down!"

It was Ace, finally responding to her comm traffic, what in the blazes was he doing?

"Specter, let's sort this out," she commed to Winterkill and turned the Blade Dancer towards his emergency signal. Radar picking up the enemy fighter, "All yours Specter, follow on him as he goes for Ace, I'll leave myself open for a chase."

Masha aimed towards the fighter and fired off a few bolts, being careful of Totter's position, most missed and a few impacted the fighter doing little damage to it. She made a sweeping turn around Totter, hoping not only that it'd make the pilot thing she was inexperienced at such a sloppy maneuver, but that he'd also be drawn away to attack her. Now it was all in Winterkill's hands.

TAGS: greyjedi125, Bravo (Ace), and Bardan_Jusik (If need be)

 

OOG: @Mitth_Fisto and Sith-I-5

• 2 H9 single turbolaser turrets
  • crowned the starboard and port dorsal sides of the wedge-like forward section, just meters behind each side viewport of the bridge (covering the approach that the removed "turbolaser stations" would have covered, but just clear of the path for the warhead launchers)

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Hanger Bay, Johnny Boy


Death was a emotional thing. It either propelled people into immediate grief or into delaying that grief as long as possible. For the Mercs, they were mercenaries and usally the loss of one---or two---was accepted as part of the job and normally people of illegal nature kept on stepping as the saying went.

But they were Mercs. They were Taller's Mercs. And Taller made a family. So a death, here, was more then just one less person to split the money to from Craci Prime---although in cold logic, that's excatly what it was. It was like losing a family member, someone you cared for. And it seemed, if the Commander's report and the report from Dak were anywhere close to being the same...

Death was a emotional thing.

The broom handle, however, was not. Jason raised an eyebrow at the elf, "House cleaning, Commander?"

Herdferd the Toong raised his voice to forestall the Commander's reply, "Captain, just in from the Hanger. Speedy Trial is launching for search and rescue of Pilot Officer Totter one thousand meters to our bow."

"Get the CAP to cover him," Lasso said, looking out that way to try to see something in the darkness of space, "We still have a enemy fighter out there."

Toong nodded, saying something into his comlink head-set as Jason started for the Captain's chair on the starboard side of the deck, when his foot crunched on something. He lifted his boot to see a...

"Who the hell brought bees aboard the Johnny Boy from our last port?"

Picking the insect off the bottom of his foot and inspecting it between thumb and forefinger, Jason added, "Commander, please inform the crew that bees should not be allowed on the Johnny Boy from planetary ports. Those bees can bring in a whole variety of problems, especially if they get into our life support system somehow."

Discarding the bee to the floor with the flick of his fingers, Lasso went to sit down in his seat...

"Commander, where is my seat cushion?"


Something snapped with brilliant light and quickly faded off to starboard. Jason pointed with his free hand out towards their starboard and barked as that light suddenly grew bigger and opened, "Hyperspace exit! Helm, redirect our course towards that hyperspace exit. We need to stay in between Totter's rescue and whatever comes out of hyperspace!"

Without thinking, Jason sat down and without the seat cushion, THUD!

"Commander!" Jason barked in pain after both he and the Major had departed.

Jason turned his attention forward and watched as a hyperspace hole formed to their starboard, roughly two thousand meters ahead of them, and a Munifex-class Light Cruiser dropped out of hyperspace. By now, the Johnny Boy was presenting her bow to the newly arrived ship.

"Someone get me a visual!" Jason said.

In a moment his holo projector had the zoomed in light cruiser from one of the astromechs on the hull. The markings were clear. Several Blazing Claws decorated itself along with several skull and crossbones symbols on a multicolored hull of odds and ends of hull plating that looked as second hand and thrown together as any good pirate ship should be.

"Pirates," Jason grid his teeth, "I hate pirates."

From that same holo, six Y-TIEs, two Die-wings, and four Toscan 8-Q starfighters (typical armament with added ball quad laser turret---with organic gunner---to rear of fighter and a forward fixed SW-4 ion cannon on the cockpit which can rotate to the left and right; a co-pilot sits behind the pilot in the cockpit as the sensor and weapons officer, firing the concussion missiles and ion cannon; total crew count of 3) deployed from the light cruiser. The starfighters formed quickly, with practice it seemed, to either side of the cruiser with 3 Y-TIEs forming a upside angle to either port and starboard with the two Die-wings advanced ahead of the ship as a picket line and the four Toscan 8-Q's spread out slightly back from the two Die-wings and in a straight line across the length of the light cruiser and the Y-TIEs, providing a secondary and stronger picket line.

"Major Jeth and Commander Yav, get to the H9s! Nothing gets to the bridge! You will each command a H9 gunnery crew and make sure it's perfect. Go!"

Jason hit a button on his command chair arm rest for the command staff comlinks, "Taab, get to the bridge. We have pirates. Your going to have to be our relay man for communications. You and your son's helmets will have the best chance at this. Inform Atin that he is to act as communications relay point for the CAP. You and him will be our communications between CAP and here in case the astros or our short range personal comlinks get knocked out. Inform the CAP, we have them covered until the rescue is complete. Bridge clear."

"Okay," Jason said out-loud, "How do we communicate with them when comms are down?"

That answer came all too quickly when the pirates fired several warning shots from the cruiser and across the JB's bridge.

"Well, there's their answer," Lasso said matter-of-factly.

He keyed the ship-wide comm, "All crew, battle stations. Pirate vessel approaching. All gunnery crews, fire at will, focus your firepower to critical systems and protect Merc starfighters; we want to capture that pirate ship for supplies and parts. All security personnel, prepare for possible enemy boarding action. Bridge clear."

Yellow alert turned to red alert and Lasso said, "Mute alarms," the annoying alarms went mute, but the red lights stayed on, "Gunnery, direct your firepower to that cruiser's critical systems and in fire support missions for our starfighter forces; transfer full tractor beam control to my chair, please. Helm, get us as close to that bacta hauler's debris as possible, but within range to still cover the rescue mission for Totter."

"You got it Cap," Monk replied.

"Gunnery, give me as much power to tractor control as you can without endangering other weaponry."

"Yes, Captain," said Otter the Nosaurian.

For now, the pirates seemed content to stay as a group, slowly advancing as a group in between the rescue party to the left, the JB in the middle, and the hauled bacta hauler to the far right. Soon, however, three Y-TIEs from the cruiser's starboard side broke formation and stared for the rescue party. Meanwhile, the three Y-TIEs on the cruiser's port banked far to port and started to loom around, trying a desperate run in between the bacta hauler and the Johnny Boy to divide the Mercs' attention and flank them, while the four 8-Q's and two Die-Wings made a run for the Johnny Boy bow first under the protection of the pirate cruiser's own covering fire. The cruiser, however, stayed put, not advancing.

"They want to capture us," Lasso said out-loud to the bridge, "Use the fighters to weaken our defenses, then come in with all guns blazing. We'll use that to our advantage."

In the back of the bridge, someone started puking into a bag...

Dak soon arrived on the bridge and came and sat in the Commander's seat---a resounding multiple crunch, crunch, crunch coming from the cushion.

Lasso looked to Dak, "What was that?"

Crunch, crunch as the droid adjusted himself on the seat and then shrugged, "Maybe the Commander likes crunching things in his seat. Captain, I should point out that we are at a marked disadvantage. Our ship is badly damaged and we still have buzz droids on the loose."

"Dak, I know. But I'm stalling for time."

"Stalling for what?"

"To surrender."

"To what?!"

"You said, we're at a marked disadvantage. So we surrender. But before we do, I want to sell it to them."

"Sell what?"

Lasso sighed, "Our surrender, Dak. What else? Cookies? I want them to come in close, really close."

"To blast us with ion cannons?!"

"Dak, I have a skilled bounty hunter, a ex-commando, and a elf who can camouflage himself. I'm going to take over their damn ship."

"With three people?"

"Seven people. As we get boarded, Taab, Havah, and Yav will sneak aboard their cruiser. As we act the bait, they will do their magic. We'll have our CAP land in their cruiser in response to our surrender. Now, you have another bounty hunter, a slicer, and a very naturally angry Nagai on board. Atin and Taab have a system, Havah and Winterkill have worked together before. That leaves Yav and---"

"Masha," Dak finished, "Who's slicing skills are luck at best."

Lasso shrugged, "Nothing like the heat of the moment to motivate her to do more then luck," Jason said.

"Your crazy," Dak said.

"No," Lasso said, "I'm using my resources to win."

"Okay," Dak said, "What about us?"

"We surrender, stall for time, and then revolt, cut off both ships, take back our ship, train our guns on a unshielded pirate ship, whose shields were disabled by our boarding party, and then we take what we ran for supplies and equipment. We win."

"All banking that six Mercs and a drunk Ace can get past their armed pirates with blasters? Who, by the way, completely out number us!"

"Pirates are drunk most of the time and poor shots and fighters the other half of the time when they are somber; their loyalty is to their own life and will do anything to save their skin, even if it means helping the enemy. We have trained mercenaries with a common goal of survival. Any of the really skilled pirates aboard that vessel will be far and few in between. Any real fight to be had will be done in small numbers of pirates as the rest flee to save their own coward skin. And, I'm not about to have the Johnny Boy taken over by pirates. So we have to fight anyways. Plain and simple."



TAG Heavy Isotope, greyjedi125, Mitth_Fisto, Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Crewman Sal Brooks, Pilot Officer Havoc Neb, Lead Hangar Tech Ler, Deck Three and Hangar, Johnny Boy corvette
Location: near Draukyse


The grey-flightsuited Brooks spotted his fellow pilot approaching from the other end of the corridor that bottlenecked at the sealed hangar doors, the other's blue semi-armoured suit, with face-sealed helmet put his own standard Merc gear to shame.

Brookes was unsure how he felt about being called to duty, but with the Johnny Boy in mortal danger, and it being his only way to survive this far out in space, helping out really served his own ends, ultimately.

He could see through the other's faceplate, that the being was a Sullustan, meaning that this was likely the Pilot Officer Havoc Neb, which if they were getting paired up, would put Neb in charge.

Between them and to the right of the corridor, a single B1 battledroid guarded the doors, as well as several black shiny-surfaced body bags.
There was nothing to suggest these were pilot casualties, but the sight was disconcerting nonetheless.

But that was nothing compared to the sound of muffled moaning and the nearest bag bouncing as its occupant started pounding on the inside of the fabric.

"C'Boath on a bike!" Sal exclaimed, having bounced hard into the left-side wall in shock. His shoulder had already gotten bruised just getting him out of his shot-up crew quarters from the taking down of Crewman Franks. "Sith!"

He dropped to one knee beside the struggling body bag, hand tapping the surface as he tried to find the zip, cautioning the occupant to lay still a moment, then finding the head of the zip at the head end, pulled it towards himself, and down the nearside.

Released, the occupant sat up fast, mouth gaping to take in as much air as he could, then hyperventilating rapidly, one hand grasping Sal's wrist tightly. "Thanks, Man."

"Any time." Sal gazed at the vaguely familiar Merc, bemusedly. "And you are?"

"Pixi, Security Unit 12." The thin-faced male human looked around worriedly. "Where's Corum?"

"Brooks." The still standing Neb called gently from the now-opening hangar doors. "We have to go."

"In a minute." Brooks took the security man under the armpit, and helped him move back till he was able to sit with his back to the wall, although his legs were still inside the body bag. "Sit there, get your strength back. Then-"

A loud klaxon echoed through the corridor, and several lights in the ceiling and walls turned red, bathing the corridor in crimson.

All crew, battle stations. Sal recognised Lasso's voice. The young lieutenant had almost recognised him when he had been brought aboard from the space battle near Port Haven, but that risk had seemed to fade over the intervening months.

Pirate vessel approaching. All gunnery crews, fire at will, focus your firepower to critical systems and protect Merc starfighters; we want to capture that pirate ship for supplies and parts. All security personnel, prepare for possible enemy boarding action. Bridge clear.

"Help me up," Pixi asked, then visibly winced as he brought a knee up, "Ahh. I did the splits earlier."

"Willingly?"

"No. Not willingly!"

"Brooks!" Neb insisted, as the alarms were muted now.

The crewman grimaced an apology to the downed security man, picked his helmet off the deck, and stood up to join Neb in entering the hangar, where the crew were all in white vacsuits that more suitable for forensics at a planetside crime scene, than inside a working hangar.

"Gentlebeings," the spindly bipedal LE-Repair droid that ran the hangar most days, called to them instantly, "You're late."

"Sorry about that, Hangar Chief." Neb called back, striding purposely ahead of Sal, while he noted the apparent lack of astromechs. "We had an issue outside."

"Not my concern, Guardian 14." Ler pointed over to one side. "Now, you are both in the X-Wings being prepped by Talka'pa and Ellie. No doubt you have noticed the lack of Artoo units? They are all on other duties."

Ler leaned sideways to look beyond the two to the now-closing doors. "Either of you see Guardian 16? Where is that girl?"

Both shrugged and moved to the open-canopied Incom T-65s awaiting them.

Ler called the Bridge. "Bridge? I have Guardian 14 and 18 down here for the Reserve Flight. They should be ready to go in a few moments. Should I be expecting Guardian 16 too?"

Tag: Bravo (Bridge), Bardan_Jusik (if still in hangar), Heavy Isotope (Ellie)

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Johhny Boy, Bridge

The ride over, out and then up had been quiet except for a comment by the others about a pilot being EVA and then one about him and Lasso having to hit the only places that really mattered on Corellia. Something which he immediately flagged in his mission recording helmet. That would be a snippet of conversation he would need to remind Lasso of later, and hold him to it. Not that he expected that Lasso would due such a thing, but a bonus for mistreating a Major in the service of credits and alcohol was a terrible thing to do no matter what mission you were on.

Unfortunately before he could formulate a plan to try to get Lasso on tape saying he would pay they were already walking out onto the bridge, that was the problem with ship this small, the lift ride was too fragging short. Still the report that the 'ELF' or Endangered Life Form gave was interesting to note. A Jedi on their ship had been taken out. Interesting, also baring note of a high risk situation had unfolded aboard ship while he was away looting the dead and staring at a monster. Wonderful. He always missed all the fun, or so he figured as alarms and a panicky droid had not notified him upon his return to ship.

Lasso seemed to step in something as Havah stayed back and soon he would have his own assignment. One enemy starfighter and a waiting game to see if the parent vessel would show up or not, so probably a desk or command situation. Wonderful. Although the bees were an interesting side note. "Sir, we should send any down to the mess. Maybe something could be made from them?" He added but Lasso seemed distracted by jarring his tailbone on sitting on the cushion-less chair, well that and a ship decanting from Hyperspace that caught his attention and a wide smile underneath his still vac-sealed helmet.

Getting his order to the gunnery crew he bobbed slightly before moving to that spot and simply being imposing, the men knew what to do unless something unusual happened. It would not be long before he heard a tic-tac of a droids familiar feet as Pic came up the corridor with his staff and Dak a couple steps ahead. Taking it he nodded. "Thanks, see to the hanger." with a nod bobbing the green photo-receptors his droid left to aid in the Hanger bays while Dak proceeded to the ships captain."Wait!" he called and as his droid returned he took off his back pack with the loot and handed to the droid. "Drop of the contraband if would not mind." The droid tilted it's head in comical fashion before running down the corridor with the loot, its footfalls coming harder upon the deck plates.

Listening in on what else was going on he made a mental note to see about whether an old enemy could look out for his droids. Although considering the way Lasso's droid was behaving perhaps that wasn't such a good idea. Maybe he should leave Glove under Daks care, although a droid owning a droid? Hmm.

Shaking his head he focused on the hear and now, and the conversation going on behind him after Dak arrived was interesting. "Someone want to make sure the shield is set properly?" he muttered as he noted the guns emplacement shield was tilted slightly.

TAG: Bravo, Sith-I-5,

 

IC: Agent Johmer Evanson, Agent Devon Robie, Bantha-class assault transport, The Fluffy
Location: Rhen Var star system

Johmer walked onto the wide open bridge area of his friend's transport, and called up a three dimensional holograph showing the known galaxy, the various regions colour-coded, and threaded with glowing pathways like veins, but in fact, major hyperlanes.

He turned to the front where the rodian was settled in the pilot's chair, and talking to the bridge of the Delicate Delinquent, to which their craft was moored, megnetically clamped to the back of the conning tower.

"Have you undocked yet?" He called forwards.

"No point if we don't know where we are going." Devon called back without turning, stretching up to hit toggles over his head. "What's the range on how far jedi can sense other's deaths?"

Johmer shrugged as he looked up at the starmap. "How long is a piece of string? Amount of deaths increases the range. Both Mitch and I sensed Alderaan when it happened, and neither of us were even in the same star sector."

Devon got up from the command chair and came back to join him at the holo. "Okay, let's start with the basics. Did this happen in the Tobali System?"

Johmer frowned. "Where's that? Oh wait, that's where we are now."

Devon said nothing. Though it was a heck of a lapse.

"No. It didn't happen around here."

"Okay, Tobali is within the...the..." Devon looked closely at the starmap, and on spotting Rhen Var, pressed a suckered forefinger to it, slowly expanding the spot of light so that it's star sector filled a larger portion of the holo, which itself was half the height of the deck to ceiling span. "Thanium Sector. Also known as the Tion Cluster. Is that where your jedi died?"

Evanzon gazed at the cluster of planets, stars, nebulae. He felt a positive feeling through the Force. "Yyyyyeeeessss."

"Really?" Devon raised his eye ridges. "That was fast."

"Well not really. That is still hundreds, if not thousands of places that the jedi could have been. For that matter we don't know how he or she died. Was it down to an Order 66 hit, or did they simply slip whilst climbing a wet tree after a rainstorm?"

"So, it was an Order 66 hit?" He asked pointedly, knowing that the Force was best at divining mysteries when offered a fact that it could yay or nay to.

Johmer opened himself to the Force. "Nope."

"Not Order 66. So the Empire likely was not involved."

"Nor any bounty hunters." Johmer studied the map, not really seeing it. "Without bounty hunters or the Empire, who in Oseon can take down a jedi? I mean, are we jumping to conclusions assuming I felt a jedi? Could have been a Sith. Some inexperienced Dark Acolyte. Fell off the side of a high-rise he was supposed to be infiltrating."

"Did it happen on a planet served by the Permelian?" Devon referred to the major hyperlane diagonally spearing through the sector, the Permelian Trade Route.

"Oh come on, we'll be here all week!"

"Well, it wasn't a bounty hunter, so no danger of him skipping town. Now, was it a planet-"

"No!"

"Not what I said before, or not a planet?"

The bearded human cocked his head as he considered this. "Both, apparently."

"Okay." Devon peered up at hyperlane graphic. There was a string of worlds he could ignore now. "Anywhere near Jaminere?"

"No."

"Desevro?"

"Interesting name. But no."

"Mullan?"

"No-puh."

"Dellalt?"

"YES!" Johmer beamed.

"Really?"

"No."

"Bastiche." Devon shook his head. "I got all excited there. Gadon."

"Gusundheit. No."

"Draukyse."

Johmer blinked. "By the Force...yes," he confirmed, his voice a husky whisper.

Devon looked up at his friend. "If you're joking-"

Evanzon turned to his fellow agent and clamped hands to the other's shoulders. "You're beautiful."

"Think you could transmute into a female rodian in a skimpy outfit, and say that again?"

The jedi released him and ran forward into the cockpit. "Strong in the Force am I, but not that strong." He dropped into Devon's chair, and contacted the DD. "We're going to undock from you, and go investigate something at or near Draukyse in the..." His voice tailed off as his right hand tapping it into the stellar database.

"Try it with a zed. D-R-A-U-K-Y-Zed-E."

Johmer changed the spelling and ran the search again. "In the Draukyze System."

Bridge Officer Bob's formal tones came back. "Copy that, Fluffy. Happy hunting."

"Thanks." Johmer looked back at Devon. "Release the docking clamps."

"It's my ship. You go release the docking clamps!"

"But I'm already sitting here."

"Fine." Devon pressed a button to extinguish the holo, which had been providing the command deck with most of its illumination, plunging it mostly into darkness, except for the eerie blue glow afforded by the gas giant clouds through which they and the Merc' interdictor were floating amongst, streaming through the wide band of transparisteel stretching across the entirety of their bow. "I'll get the docking clamps. But then I want you out of my chair."

He moped off towards the lower area beneath their deck.

Tag: no-one

OOC: Many thanks to Collider.com for an actual starmap I could get to expand to my screen size, and the SW Wiki for the map of the Thanium Worlds.

 

IC: Terrel Vacks
Algor


"Anything really valuable in Algor City, do you know, Terrel?", I ask, "Like a fire-gem depository, large aurodium vault or similar, for instance? Otherwise I really don't get the why of this. What I've seen of the ground troops look like pirates, and pirates want an easy, and substantial, return for their efforts. A swarm of Vulture Droids can't come cheap; then there's the cost of whatever vessel or vessels they launched from. Even without the ISD's firepower, there are enough smaller Imperial warships in-system to make crewing on the launch vessels a suicide mission. Wouldn't surprise me if the only brains involved on that end of the operation were circuitry.

Terrel's mind had been echoing Aidan's thought process the whole time and the Merc shook his head, "No idea Aidan. Someone must be paying the pirates. But even at that, assuming the fighters belong to whoever paid the pirates as well, this whole thing seems like a sucuide mission, like you said. And if someone is paying them, it seems to me to be a rather large waste of time as well. No goal in mind other then distraction," the word slowed in Terrel's mouth as his mind caught up with what his tongue was saying, "Okay Aidan, time to really use your rank and title here. You need to comm that Imperial base, find out---other then the ImpStar---if there are any other VIP vessels or personnel on planet. If they resist, use the usual threat of your title and Imperial Center; during combat conditions, a young technician will be more on edge as is and they should buckle easier. Until then," Terrel pointed to the gaping hole in the ground they were approaching, "Lets do a fly-by over there. See what's going in chaos central."


Suddenly sides of passing by buildings on their low flying vector through the streets started blowing apart behind and in front of them and suddenly two Vultures screamed overhead past them and then started to loop around to starboard for another run.

"Looks like we have company..." Terrel said dryly.


TAG Tim Battershell

---

IC: Pirate Raiding Party
Algor, public landing pads outside the Imperial Base



"Rad by the way" the human pirate said, extending a hand to the newcomer, "And your name...?"

It wasn't long before they were at the bank; the pirates had the flanks and rear of the building locked down tight and the squad of Stormtroopers to the front of the building, despite being better trained and equipped, had their hands tied for say as they had to count the fact that civilians were in their line of fire and if they tried flanking the building and alert got sent out, then the civilians could be murdered inside the bank. So, for the time being, they were taking random shots by pirates who yelled insults at them, while demanding they 'don't get in their way or the hostages die' when they leave the bank with the money.

"How is it going?" Rad asked one of the two sentries at the back door.

The one Duro guard smiled, "Three pirate parties all here," the alien whistled at the 30 plus pirates, "Rad, once we get that safe open, we won't need these employers anymore! We'll be able to sail free again!"

Rad put a finger to his mouth, "Shhh. When we got the money," Rad looked around, seeing that the other pirates outside the bank were quite happy shooting at the Imperials and joking around, "Until then, we need to take out these other pirates. And keep this little raiding of ours off the big boss' map."

"Why don't we just go rogue after the money?" the Duro asked, adding, "Back to freedom?"

Rad hit the alien across the head and hushed with spite, "YOU FOOL! Don't you remember the Slicer and her captain, Captain Vox? Captain Vox and his crew had similar plans, yet our dear kind employers blew them out of the sky in front of us all back at Rago Run. No one goes rogue on the boss! No one!"

"Yea!" the Duro shot back, adjusting his shoulders to the weight of his armor and weapons, "Well ain't no one ever seen this boss either Rad!"

"You got food in your stomach, don't ya?" the human pirate leader responded angrily, slamming a fist in the Duro's torso armor, which made the Duro stumble back against the wall, "Don't forget that! Because I remember when we were casting lots aboard the Dark Soldier to see who'd get killed next to save our rations when our hyperdrive went out and our comm board sizzled because we couldn't afford to fix it on the previous port of call because of having no money. I don't ever forget that, mate," the human tapped his temple with a finger, "Good bloody memory of me having to shoot my own brother to save a week's worth of rations to keep us alive. Maybe I should of just shot you, instead of doing the honorable thing and casting lots! This here boss, this here raiding party!" Rad spread out his arms to the dark skies full of warfare above, a smile about his face of, "Is what keeps food in our stomachs and our hearts beating! Now," the human laid a hand on the Duro's cheek gently and said, "When I give the word, you and Hi'Ta here waste these other pirate scum outside. I don't want to be sharing this money with anybody but us! And then, when the boss does set us free, we'll upgarde the Dark Soldier and raid the space lanes for endless years!"

The Duro smiled nervously as he opened the door, "You got it Rad," and then the alien nodded to the new guy in the group, "Don't frak it up new guy!"

Rad lead his group inside the bank where roughly 12 pirates were, guarding laying down civilians at gunpoint along the walls, while a few guarded the windows and doors, and the rest were busy at the safe door. Rad looked back at his group, "The rest of you scum, file outside! No sense in overcrowding the place!" The rest of Rad's group rushed back out the rear door to help secure the building against any Imperial attacks.

"Was thinking you'd take the bank over for yourself there for a moment," One of the pirate leaders, a Wookiee growled through a basic translator box.

"We had a deal," Rad repied, "Remember? No more then 4 pirates from each group inside the bank. Best way to keep everyone honest."

The Wookiee barked, "Who's the new guy? He gives you five."

Rad looked back at him and shrugged, "Fresh meat. Boss said he'd be coming. He's going to have to prove himself a course in order to get his share. Story has it, I heard, he has some skills in combat we could use."

"So be it," the Wookiee said.

The other pirate leader, a male Devaronian, walked out of the safe room, dragging a screaming Twi'lek male behind him and throwing the smaller man one handed to the floor, "This bank teller is proving useless at getting the door open," the alien said, turning his head and grinning at the new guy, "If he needs proving to be in on this deal," the alien smiled, "Go ahead new guy, shoot him! He's useless and we're wasting time! A true man of fortune as you claim to be, shoot the waste for money's sake!"

The Twi'lek teller looked up at the human he had not seen before with the other pirate leaders, holding his hands up in defense as he collected himself off of the floor and knelt there when the Devaronian put a boot to the back of his his knee to force him back down to the ground, "Please! Please!" the teller reasoned, "I have kids at home! A wife! Please don't do this!"

The three pirate leaders started laughing and Rad said, "Come on kid! I don't have all day!"


TAG galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Aidan Dodd
Blood Moon, Running Algor City Street - Cronese Mandate.

Despite Blood Moon possessing a top atmospheric speed of around 1,200 km/h, I'm not running her through the cityscape at anything like that velocity. I'm much more Ground-pounder than pilot, regarding a ship as a convenient base that's able to hop from starport to starport. While I know the basics - everyone who gets flight-qualified does - I'm well aware that I haven't developed the instinctive reaction speed needed for fast nap-of-the-surface flying, particularly along a 'trench'. Hence my caution. Another factor is the crud; flames, smoke and dust; messing up the visibility. At least Blood Moon can do something about that, I'm actually steering her via a holo-projection of the forward 'take' from her "Omni-Vu" sensor pylons.

If I do hook up with the Mercs I should be able to re-train, with the aid of a lot of simulator time, into something approximating a combat-rated pilot; although I'll be quite happy to fly the 'delivery-truck' for as long as necessary. For today, though, I'll have to cover my deficiencies by relying on Blood Moon's sturdy defensive systems and heavy armament. Which reminds me; I haven't even test-fired her weapons yet! The manual says that Skiprays are at their best in atmosphere, but that won't help much against craft that can pull manoeuvres that would overload the acceleration compensator and turn us into mush!.

Even at reduced speed, it doesn't take long before we encounter the destruction footprint left by that large explosion. As I more-than-half expected, it's the typical aftermath of a collapsed camouflet - a big one - buildings perched at crazy angles around the edge of, and probably destined to slide into, a crater that'd comfortably hold two or three light freighters; if not a rather larger ship. Miracles do happen, and specialised Search and Rescue teams will do their utmost, but I don't see there being any survivors from the buildings formerly occupying the patch of ground directly above the hole. Camouflet-type detonations 'lift-and-shake' foundations to pieces and without the support of its foundations the entire building comes apart as it drops into the void. Any beings in the structures fallen-in from the edges will have a better, but still only moderate, survival chance. The hole is too large to have resulted from a missile strike, probably indicating a hollowed-out mine-chamber, dug and filled with explosives ahead of time. Whoever calculated the depth and charge got it spot on; no trace of ejected material around the rim, just a steep-walled gaping hole.

Vacks seems to have had similar thoughts to mine, but anything other than his final suggestion of 'checking out chaos central' (i.e. the chasm) will need to go on the back-burner for now. The reason? A pair of Vulture Droids strafing the street, really messing up the buildings on our flanks and ahead, but seemingly - as far as the instruments can tell me - missing us clean. The way they looped away says they'll be back to try again!

"Turret-gunner, go Weapons-free against Vulture-class starfighters.... fire as you bear!" I order as I slip Blood Moon into the bottom of the crater, turning hard starboard to follow the crater wall and firing the braking thrusters at maximum to dump speed. Provided we don't move too far around, this should put us in a sensor-shadow caused by the crater wall and the buildings around the rim.

"We do indeed, Terrel. I'm hoping to backshoot them next pass; see what Medium Ion Cannons up their backsides can do!"

Cued-in by the chuntering from the turret, then given a vector by the red dashes of the Laser Cannons' discharges, I rocket Blood Moon out of her improvised 'foxhole', slew her into line using the 'ring and dot' projection on the HUD and trigger the Ion Cannons. Although I'm expecting the cerulean pulses from the Ion Cannons (and indeed, relying to an extent on their tendency to expand in section as they progress, to compensate for what has been more-or-less a snapshot), I'm rather surprised to note the addition of the thick, bright, red hyphen of the nose Turbolaser. I'd known it was there from the upgrade log, but had assumed that it would not be fire-linked to the other forward firing weapons. I tell 'Passepartout' to see if he can unlink it via programming. I would much rather it only fired when I wanted it to, although I am relieved to find both those weapons systems work!

Now it's time to send Algor Garrison their Sensor data so they can organise a ground response to the pirates. They also need to know our conclusions on this 'raid', so I trigger the Comm again;

"Algor Garrison Control, Ubiqtorate Flight. I evaluate current hostile action as diversionary, repeat, diversionary; intended to decoy defensive assets out of reach of yet undisclosed high-value objective; probably something highly Classified. Only way reckless expenditure of hostile assets makes sense. I smell a security breach somewhere up the line!"

Now if that doesn't provoke a response, through Officers now feeling the need to foul their shorts, I doubt anything will!


TAG: Intervention

 

IC: Commander Yavscout, Johnny Boy corvette
Location: near Draukyse Draukyze


Operation Lie His *** Off started for the elf as soon as Lasso spotted the broom.

"House cleaning, Commander?"

Herdfeld commed in with a report on the Speedy Trial, Atin's ship, heading back out to retrieve one of the CAP pilots, who had been forced to go extra-vehicular.

The elf nodded to himself, glad he had called the reserve pilots to duty.

"Get the CAP to cover him, We still have a enemy fighter out there." Jase ordered, clearly assuming the command mantle again.

Yav tried to refrain from wincing at the audible crunch of something under the Captain's boot as he crossed to his chair, the Corellian lifting his foot to check the treads.
"Who the hell brought bees aboard the Johnny Boy from our last port?"

"Umm." Yav was glad his droid wasn't here to drop him in it. Deputy had been with him aboard the Imperial Neb-B frigate when this had happened last time, and while, yes, the droid did not know for certain that the elf was the cause of the bees that time, its Intellex IV central processor would run down the suspects out of itself, Yavscout, and the half-naked engineer they'd had tied up on the floor, in no time at all!

Jase had the flattened striped insect pinched between thumb and forefinger, and examined it closely through the yellow-eyed grey faceplate of his spacesuit's helmet. "Commander, please inform the crew that bees should not be allowed on the Johnny Boy from planetary ports. Those bees can bring in a whole variety of problems, especially if they get into our life support system somehow."

"I'll get right on it, Captain." Yav nodded, as Jase flicked the Norrathianised Honey Bee aside.

"Commander, where is my seat cushion?"

"Um, over there, Sir." Yav waved beyond Jase's chair, behind and to the right of it, where the disembowelled seat cover lay next to the as yet unused black bin liner.

Havah had a welcome suggestion: "Sir, we should send any down to the mess. Maybe something could be made from them?"

Bless you. The elf positively beamed at the tall Arkanian warrior for somehow putting a positive spin on the whole debacle "Yes, perhaps they could be a source of Vitamin Bee."

An intense light flash outside the ports threw shadows of the three senior officers across the deck.

What the frag was that?

Lasso pointed out to starboard, yelled about a hyperspace exit, and ordered the ship turned in that direction, at the same time dropping into his cushion-less chair with a painful cry that knifed right through the guilt-ridden Commander.

Yavscout whirled towards the front as a craft ahead of them reverted to realspace.

Watertin's voice piped in. "We should have sensors. Try that now."

"Confirmed." Wa Yay interjected. "Good job, Mister Watertin."

"Someone get me a visual!"

"Shields," Yav called down, "extend out from the hull to protect the astromechs."

"As ordered." Otter the Nosaurian responded.

The Commander turned back to see the rear of the holograph that was floating before Lasso, showing a magnified view of the newcomer.
Whatever in Oseon it was, they could clearly see the infamous Blazing Claw insignia adorning the ship's patchworked hull. There were some skull and crossbone insignia too, though the former SGIS agent was less sure what those meant.

"Pirates, I hate pirates."

Yav regarded his boss through the holo. This from Mister 'Lets Be Bad Guys'. He did not see an extravagant difference between pirates and mercenaries. Though of course, The Mercs were a breed apart.

Wa Yay piped in again. "That's a Munifex-class Light Cruiser. Reading several flights of Uglies, launching."

"We see them, Master Chief."

"Major Jeth and Commander Yav, get to the H9s! Nothing gets to the bridge! You will each command a H9 gunnery crew and make sure it's perfect. Go!"

Yavscout fled, heading for the opposite staircase to the one Jeth used, and quickly found himself in the cramped area where two humans, Mark Snow, and Cleara, were manning the single barrel laser turret, and as he arrived, were already flinging scarlet blaster fire into the paths of the lead pair of Toscan 8-Q starfighters.

Tag: Bravo (Toscan 8-Qs, Lasso), everyone involved

 

IC: Atin Taab
Speedy Trial, on CSAR mission.

The CAP flight had managed to keep the area around Totter clear for now, but according to his threat display that Tango was still out there. Concentrating on getting to and picking up Ace, Atin didn't have the luxury of getting a close look at their opponent. Whatever it was, the Trial didn't "recognize" it and had tagged it as UNK-Tango-1. The Mandalorian pilot couldn't fault the computer that much, that system was still stock and hadn't received much of an update from him yet. That was something he woud have to rectify as soon as he was able. Knowing what you were up against could save your life he knew.

With the unknown bandit still out there Atin poured on the throttle to bring the Trial in towards Ace as quickly as possible. Even if the CAP kept the bandit busy, or destroyed it, Totter might not have a lot of time out there. There was no telling if his life support systems had been damaged or not, so Atin was eager to bring the downed pilot aboard.

Glancing at his threat display he could see where Ace was "pinging" from with his emergency transponder. That at least made locating him easy enough, but it wasn't enough for a pickup. He would have to use the old Mark.I human eyeball for that. Coming up near where Totter had gone UVA Atin kept the throttle up and turned on his landing lights, an effort to spot Totter visually. There was still some debris that had drifted this far out from the wreck which complicated things, but a flash of light from starboard (the same side Totter was "pinging" from) caught his eye. The pilot waved frantically in an effort to catch Atin's attention as well as to let the rescue vehicle know that he was still OK. Atin grunted to himself and began to pull the Trial around, chopping throttle as he did so.

He circled around Totter, slowing the Trial down. He was loath to do this, there was a mantra in fighter pilot circles, "speed was life" and he was a firm believer in that. But he simply had no choice. He would have to slow down, and even come to a reletive halt, in order to pick up Totter. He would have to rely on the CAP to keep his shebs clear.

His initial circle now complete Atin had pulled the Trial in farther towards Totter, so the pilot was in front of the craft. As the Trial wasn't a ready made rescue craft Atin planned to stop the ship close enough to Totter so that the pilot could grab hold and climb into the escape pod's outer hatch, recovering him in much the same way as he had the wreck boarding party. Throttling back further now he coasted in and opened the pod's outer hatch. Peering through the forward canopy he could see Totter directly in front of him. It was now that he broke radio silence.

"Ace, Scorch. I've opened the pod doors, grab on and climb in and we can..." He halted as his threat warning display went crazy. Some sort of cruiser had just reverted from hyperspace, close to the Johnny Boy. Far too close to the Johnny Boy. Along with it came a number of fighters. Oh this was not good.

Not realizing that his buy'ce was still set to transmit to his father he switched frequencies on the Trial's comm console calling out on the CAP's encrypted freq. "Cruiser inbound towards homebase, several fighters acompanying it!" Not sure yet if the Johnny Boy's sensors were up and running he called out again. "Johnny Boy, you have multiple inbound, including at least one capital ship...ummm," he checked the threat display, this one the Trial had IDed. "Munifex type light cruiser and at least dozen fighters. Please advise."

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Bridge, Johnny Boy

In the turbolift Taab heard his son's call on the comms. Excitable, too excitable. A good Mando should be able to handle any situation without getting worked up like that. Even if he couldn't handle what was being thrown at him (or her), a Mandalorian always had to play it off like they could. His son was usually better than that, but his emotions still could get the better of him at times. At'ika (little Atin) was due for more remedial training Taab thought shaking his head.

Another message came through, this time from the Skipper.

"Taab, get to the bridge. We have pirates. Your going to have to be our relay man for communications. You and your son's helmets will have the best chance at this. Inform Atin that he is to act as communications relay point for the CAP. You and him will be our communications between CAP and here in case the astros or our short range personal comlinks get knocked out. Inform the CAP, we have them covered until the rescue is complete. Bridge clear."

Taab relayed the message to his son, with an added "Keep your kovid (head)" tacked onto the end, a reminder to not get too excitable out there. As he was already well on his way to the bridge, only a deck away according to the lift, he didn't bother responding to the Captain. It sounded like the Skipper had enough to deal with right now anyway. That assessment was proven correct as the lift doors opened to the chaos on the bridge.

"All banking that six Mercs and a drunk Ace can get past their armed pirates with blasters? Who, by the way, completely out number us!" The Captain's droid assistant was laying into him. Taab didn't know what the plan was, or exactly what Dak was talking about, but he had a good guess. It sounded like the Mercs were about to once again earn their paychecks.

"Pirates are drunk most of the time and poor shots and fighters the other half of the time when they are somber; their loyalty is to their own life and will do anything to save their skin, even if it means helping the enemy. We have trained mercenaries with a common goal of survival. Any of the really skilled pirates aboard that vessel will be far and few in between. Any real fight to be had will be done in small numbers of pirates as the rest flee to save their own coward skin. And, I'm not about to have the Johnny Boy taken over by pirates. So we have to fight anyways. Plain and simple."

"Lot's of mercenaries like that too Skip," Taab said, his voice was low, but he had no doubt everyone on the bridge heard him. "Including some on this very boat boat." He knew there were just enough highly trained, and highly motivated, individuals among the Mercs to pull off whatever the Capatin was suggesting, but there was no point in letting the crew know he knew that. He turned to Lasso now, asking calmly.

"Orders?"

TAG: Bravo, Sith-I-5, Mitth_Fisto, greyjedi125, Heavy Isotope

 

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


Masha aimed towards the fighter and fired off a few bolts, being careful of Totter's position, most missed and a few impacted the fighter doing little damage to it.

In the distance, behind the enemy fighter, Totter could see two fighters approaching. He was sure they were Mercs! How they moved---as a team---proved his point. One went for intercept, the other one kept themselves open for back-up, but made sure to splatter the enemy with some healthy laser fire first. The laser fire hit the enemy fighter and Totter watched as the enemy pilot lost his nerve to take out a helpless evac pilot and broke his run off sharply, seeing he was quickly becoming the hunted! The one fighter stayed with him, but the other fighter---

She made a sweeping turn around Totter, hoping not only that it'd make the pilot thing she was inexperienced at such a sloppy maneuver, but that he'd also be drawn away to attack her. Now it was all in Winterkill's hands.

---swept around and Totter caught the briefest of looks that it was Masha!

"Thanks Edge," Totter said over his comlink as he lowered his blaster rifle, "I owe you one."

As Edge swept away, a moving object caught Totter's attention. Glancing that way, he spotted the Trial and started to wave frantically to get the pilot's attention. The Trial looped around and slowed to nearly a dead-stop. Soon, Atin was hanging out the escape pod hatch.

"Ace, Scorch. I've opened the pod doors, grab on and climb in and we can..." He halted as his threat warning display went crazy. Some sort of cruiser had just reverted from hyperspace, close to the Johnny Boy. Far too close to the Johnny Boy. Along with it came a number of fighters. Oh this was not good.

Atin's comm traffic trailed off and Totter followed his gaze through the muted zones of deep space (since vacuum carried no sound waves) to the silently exiting cruiser and it's deploying fighters. Using his arms useless in space like a swimmer in water, Totter found himself in the escape pod, his ejection seat now floating away with the rest of his fighter's debris.

Atin quickly out of the escape pod, off to the cockpit, by the time Totter had the escape hatch closed and the green light clicked on so they could reenter the rest of the ship. Satatifiest with his rescue and for sure Atin was far too busy up front in the cockpit, Totter dug out a flask of drink from a pouch on his fighter suit. Taking a swig, the pilot sighed, "That was close, far too close," taking another swig of the drink, Totter put it away and was getting up when he found himself on the floor of the escape pod again when Atin decided that evasive maneuvers was needed for some reason, "Young people!" Totter barked as he rubbed his head that had hit the escape pod interior. Getting up finally, he raced upwards to the cramped cockpit and hovered behind the pilot's seat, "What do you need me to do?" Totter asked the helmeted mercenary.


TAG Heavy Isotope, greyjedi125, Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Bridge, Johnny Boy


"Lot's of mercenaries like that too Skip," Taab said, his voice was low, but he had no doubt everyone on the bridge heard him. "Including some on this very boat boat." He knew there were just enough highly trained, and highly motivated, individuals among the Mercs to pull off whatever the Capatin was suggesting, but there was no point in letting the crew know he knew that.

Lasso well understand the elder Taab's words, but like the warrior, kept his thoughts to himself. It was the business they were in. As Lasso watched the battle unfold, Lasso watched a pair of 8-Q's explode under the firepower of one of the H9's; but something else was on his mind as his helmet folded back down to his neck collar as Taab spoke again,

"Orders?"

Jason remained silent for a long moment, looking off to space; he knew his plan would work, but it would be costly, time consuming---

"Bridge? I have Guardian 14 and 18 down here for the Reserve Flight. They should be ready to go in a few moments. Should I be expecting Guardian 16 too?"

He hit the comm, "Launch them, Ler. How much more on that fuel transfer? And how much remaining fuel do we have left?"

The droid's irradiated voice came back,, "Well, to put it to you simply Cap, we're almost full. About another minute. And there's enough fuel left here to last us three years."

"Good. Security Chief Taab will be to your location shortly, Ler. He will be lining that sphere with enough explosives to make it go boom."

"What???? We could sell this stuff on the black market for----"

Jason hit the comm again, "Engineering? Williams, I need everything you got to get us speed."

"I'll see what I can do, Cap," came the engineer's response.

"Helm, redirect our course point 0-five to port. I want to be starboard to that cruiser."

"Captain, that will only leave us about three hundred meters between us and that cruiser," Monk advised, feeling so relived that sensors were back online to give him more 'eyes' to see from.

"I know Chief Helm," Lasso said, "Just do it," then the Captain said to the bridge, "Shields, I want all available shield strength balanced out to the bow and starboard. Gunnery, keep it heavy on our unshielded sides to keep those enemy tangos at bay."

Hearing the responses, Jason turned to Taab, "Do what you need to do, Chief, you have about seven minutes I reckon before we reach that cruiser. I need that sphere ready to blow; we should have some spare concussion warheads laying around in the hanger---I know that sphere will pack some serious armor to protect itself. I'm going to roll the Johnny Boy to our ventral side---first ejecting the fuel sphere to our starboard---so as to give our H9's a clear shot. They'll hit your warheads as we discharge the sphere to the cruiser as we sail past it. I need just enough pack in that sphere to overload that cruiser's shields and take a chunk of damage out of her, so as to disable her, but not kill her or damage us. I'll aim mid section, hoping to crack her open like a can, but keep her reactor core safe from overloading. I'll have a team ready for you, but count on Commander Yavscout and Major Jeth. You three will have to go extra-vehicular over to the damaged cruiser. You'll have a shopping list of supplies to get while you take out any pirates remaining. The CAP will handle any remaining fighters and join you as needed on the pirate ship. Once supplies are gathered---and for Force's sake, don't forget medical supplies before Doctor Cook kills me---signal for the Trial to pick you and the team up with supplies. Any questions, Chief?"



TAG Sith-I-5 (Ler / Guardian 14/18), Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Pixi, Al, Security Office, Johnny Boy corvette

Pixi, after several moments sitting on the red-lit corridor floor to gather his energy and strength, extricated his way out of the black body bag, rolled it into a discrete sausage, and stood to make his way, a bit unsteadily, aft to the Security Station, where Al greeted him.

"You okay?" The chubbier security man enquired, leaning on the counter.

"I'm really not." Pixi walked up to the counter, leaning heavily on his elbows in a mirror-image of his crewmate. "Corum and I caught up with Pilot Officer Trasks just as she exploded next to that new Jedi Master. I woke up in a body bag, and haven't seen Corum yet."

Al raised an eyebrow. "Did you check for any other bags, or was yours by itself. What about Medical?"

Pixi facepalmed. "Frag. I wasn't thinking. That pirate alert came through. You got another weapon for me?"

"Yeah." Al straightened and took his weight off the counter, which audibly creaked in relief. The muffled sound of discharged blaster sounded down the corridor. "Al'Kesh and the QRF are hunting down Taab's chair. Don't ask."

He leaned under the counter and hefted a T-21 light repeating blaster onto the surface.

The question did not really need to be asked. Even drunk and cowardly, pirates would expect a Marauder-class corvette to be either military or privateer; they would not be boarding expecting to be dealing with cowed tourists.

This was not the spaceliner, Lady of Mindor.

Pixi lifted the T-21 and checked it had the full 30-shot energy clip.

"And an E-11 for backup?" Al asked, in the manner of a dapper white-coated barber asking if Sir wanted something for the weekend.

Pixi nodded, hefting the weapon. It was quite heavy. "Please."

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Algor, Landing pads outside Imperial Base

"Rad by the way" the human pirate said, extending a hand to the newcomer, "And your name...?" Owen took Rad’s hand and shook it.

“Grim,” he said using a nickname given him during basic. He preferred to use a pseudonym on mission kept some distance between himself and his employers. As they approached the bank Owen noticed a squad of Stormtroopers at the front of the building and pirates along the flank and rear. He knew that the pirates were no match for Stormtroopers, and that the ‘plastic men’ as they called them should have overrun this position as soon as the brigands took it. Something else was at play here. At the rear entrance Rad got into a conversation with a Duro standing guard. Owen took this time to get a lay of the land, at least 10 pirates on the right flank a little less on the left.

"Don't frak it up new guy!" The Duros said snapping the mercenary out of his tactical analysis. The leader of the group led them into the bank. Owen saw what was keeping the Stormtroopers at bay, hostages. They were lined up against the walls with pirates watching over them.

"The rest of you scum, file outside! No sense in overcrowding the place!" Rad called out over his shoulder. Owen stayed put.

"Was thinking you'd take the bank over for yourself there for a moment," A Wookiee said through a translator box.

"We had a deal," Rad replied, "Remember? No more than 4 pirates from each group inside the bank. Best way to keep everyone honest." The young soldier of fortune filed that information away. Added to what the Duros said outside before the quiet conversation with Rad, Owen knew that there were twelve pirates in the building.

"Who's the new guy? He gives you five." The Wookiee barked, the grunt behind the translation showed its annoyance with the situation.

Rad looked over his shoulder, “Fresh meat. Boss said he'd be coming. He's going to have to prove himself a course in order to get his share. Story has it, I heard, he has some skills in combat we could use.” Owen sneered under his helmet. He hated being called fresh meat, newbie, or new guy. It implied that his was untrained or new to this work. He spent thirteen years under the roof of a man that only knew how to train soldiers not raise sons, after that straight into the Stormtrooper Corp. for another year of training. He was not new to this, he had taken lives, and he had blood on his hands.

"So be it," the Wookiee said. Screaming turned Owen's head towards the safe room. He saw a Devaronian dragging a Twi’lek behind him. He threw the terrified hostage to the ground.

"This bank teller is proving useless at getting the door open," the alien said. He turned his head to Owen grinning, "If he needs proving to be in on this deal," Owen didn’t like were this was going. "Go ahead new guy, shoot him! He's useless and we're wasting time! A true man of fortune as you claim to be, shoot the waste for money's sake!" Owen heart rate spiked, he ran through all the possible scenarios. He could shoot the three pirates standing here starting with the Wookiee then take cover and begin taking out the rest. The problem was that he couldn’t be sure that the civilians wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

"Please! Please!" the teller reasoned, "I have kids at home! A wife! Please don't do this!" Owen drew his pistol. He was glad he wore a helmet, the other pirates couldn’t see him sweating. His mind flashed back to his last mission as a Stromtrooper, orders came down to burn the town and kill everyone inside. There was no reason for this command Owen never fired a shot but, watched in horror as his comrades cut down unarmed women and children.

"Come on kid! I don't have all day!" Rad said laughing with the other corsairs around him. Owen’s stomach turned. Should he follow the cold calculus and kill this innocent man to protect the lives of others, or should he resist and knowingly get more innocents killed in the insuring fire fight. Was killing this employee the logical thing to do or just an excuse to assuage his conscience? Whatever action he took would stay with him from now on. His finger tightened on the trigger and sent a blaster bolt straight through the head of the Twi’lek. He bent down to take the ID badge off the crumpled body.

“A memento of our time together,” Owen stood to his full height and looked at Rad, scowling under the helmet, “Now, let’s get that fraking vault open.”
TAG: Intervention

 

IC: Aidan Dodd
Blood Moon, Over 'Mucking Big Hole', Algor City - Cronese Mandate.

"Sensors, keep up all around scans for more hostiles; report incoming threats immediately they're spotted; range, altitude and bearing. Vocabulate sighting reports via Cockpit speakers. I want to take us a bit higher! Turret-guner, concentrate on our aft arc unless otherwise ordered.

'Passepartout' now we've a little time, ID that battlewagon for me, please."

An instant later, details appear on a screen, along with an audible 'Aye Aye, Captain' from the B1 at the Sensor/Missiles station in the cabin.

"Well, Terrel, I doubt that trick will work again with this bunch, maybe those two weren't programmed to think 'Infantry' - as in "Under threat? Get into the nearest hole!" but I'm glad it worked once. Any more of them I'll take head-on, I think. Not sure if they've got Shields, seems a bit of a luxury for a semi-expendable weapons system, but we certainly do. Wonder why the ship's previous owner configured her this way. Only thing I can think of is; lock on astern of another vessel and turn her engineering section into rubble!

That ISB 'Plank' from 'AADM Control' has been very quiet since we lifted. Wonder if he's gone into shock at having his orders disregarded? Or maybe just realised exactly what I used to be, and thinks I still am!

According to 'Passepartout', that ISD's squawking she's the Warrant, one of the new II-class. Probably still has the 'baby's cry' in her drives and the 'fresh paint' smell inside! No idea on who commands her, but it's now even more surprising that the Pirates attacked, whatever the potential prize; those ships bristle with weaponry! Impstar II-class design specs have been in 'Jaina's Fighting Ships' for over a year, and I'd be willing to bet that Pirates get hold of, and read, each issue as soon as it goes out! Any further thoughts yourself?"

While speaking, I've put Blood Moon into an ascending spiral to port. When we get high enough for our "Omni-Vu' sensors to monitor the whole city I intend switching to a 'racetrack pattern' flight path; Vultures (and other pests) permitting!

I trigger the Comm again;

"Algor Garrison Control, Ubiqtorate Flight. Apologies for the delay, had to dodge a couple of Vultures, Sensor feed starting now!"


TAG: Intervention

 

OOG: Hey all, I got approved by Bravo! Look for my first post probably tomorrow. Here's my character sheet:

Name: Evalynne Smith
Callsign: Swifts
Aliases:
Gender: Female
Age: 16, nearly 17
Species: Human
Home World: Hythrope IV
Affiliation: She's figuring that out.

Personality
---Traits: Has a head for numbers and codes, is very punctual and neat, thinks quickly, is dryly sarcastic.
---Likes: Swoop racing (though she's never raced off her homeworld), well-written code, her boyfriend, making ceramics, reading books, good manners, thunderstorms
---Dislikes: The Empire, classists, her parents (she loves them but it's…complicated), tight spaces, being overly cold, overly strict curfews
---Habits: Writing her own security systems for her datapad, carries a holo of her boyfriend, has a small toolkit she carries everywhere (her favorite tool is the screwdriver)
Appearance
---Skin Color: Light
---Hair Color: Black, to her shoulders
---Eye Color: Blue
---Height: 5'3''
---Clothing: Typical smuggler garb, which she got secondhand from her boyfriend's mother. She also has her well-worn nerfhide jacket that she wore while racing, as well as her helmet.
---Other Attributes: She's about average weight for her size.
---Other Details:
Weapons: A Model 57 blast pistol, which her boyfriend's father taught her to use
Skills
---Primary Skill: Agility. She knows how to quietly and quickly get from place to place, even if the routes are somewhat…unconventional.
---Secondary Skill: Piloting, but mainly swoops. Tricky things, swoops.
---Life Experience:

• Mechanics, due to the speeder bike her parents know about and the swoop they don't
• Slicing, though nothing big and nothing illegal. All her knowledge here as been purely interest-driven.
• Reading a situation and the people in it--she learned how to navigate the treacherous waters of society as part of her schooling and as a result of having widely different thoughts than her parents

Education
---General Education: She has the equivalent of a high school education, with extra etiquette and arts lessons.
---Specialized Education: She formally trained in dance and informally in martial arts.
Flaws / Limitations
----Physical: Her left wrist is weaker after having sprained it several times sparring.
----Mental: She's a bit naive, having had a mostly sheltered life, but not completely. Time with her boyfriend on the other side of Hythrope IV and in swoop-racing has made her able to take care of herself for the most part.
---Emotional: She has a tendency to hide how she really feels and thinks. Either people were telling her that she thought/felt too much or that what she thought/felt was wrong, so she stopped telling them. She's more compassionate and understanding than she lets on, but she has to be your friend before you learn that.
---General: She really wants to prove herself to anyone she thinks is paying attention.
---Character Critical Failure: She is very prone to heat illness and has to be careful not to get too hot. This is due to a mild case of heat exhaustion one summer when she was ten. If it gets too hot, she could overheat and get sick, or get overheated and end up dying unless someone or something intervenes

The Force
---Sensitivity: Latent. To others and to herself, she appears to not be Force-sensitive.
---Religion: Not necessary, seeing as she nor anyone else doesn't see her as a Force-user
---Force Abilities: She has the ability to sense what's going to happen. It's what made her good at racing. She just thinks she has great reflexes due to her dance and martial arts training.
---Force Weakness: She doesn't know it's the Force, but being untrained would be an issue.

Biography
---Personal History: She was born on Hythrope IV three years after the Emperor came to power. Her parents are very pro-Imperial and planned to raise their status in society (and maybe move from their homeworld) by marrying her off to some rich Imperial. She wasn't too keen on that idea, but her parents didn't ever ask what she wanted. They sent her off to a ladies' finishing school when she was fourteen so she could learn how to be a good Imperial wife. She also met her boyfriend at fourteen. They met at a swoop race. She beat him, and the rest was history. Her parents found out about him being from the shadier side of the planet, forbade her to see him, and shipped her off to school. She kept seeing him, however, and in talks with him and his family, learned how the Empire really treated most people. After a year at the school, she ran away and stayed with her boyfriend's family. When her parents found out where she'd gone, they sent their people to collect her. Her boyfriend helped her escape, and now even he doesn't know where she is.
---Military History: None. She attempted to apply to one of the Empire's military academies, possibly to get into intelligence work (and maybe end up defecting). But the officer who processed her application clearly thought that the Empire didn't need a woman at their institutions. That's not why she dislikes the Empire, but it doesn't help, either.
---Traumatic Experiences: She's seen swoop racers--careless and careful alike--killed, though she's avoided major injuries. One of her best friends died suddenly of an illness when she was ten years old.