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

IC: Perimeter Control, Unknown Military Operation near Street AA-Three
Warehouse District, near the spaceport


"Hey Charles," Dockings said out of the corner of his mouth as he looked through his Model TD2.3 electrobinoculars, "Did the Colonel say anything about any visitors?"

"Hell Dockings," Charles said from the roof top of a nearby abandoned hotel near the warehouse district, "The Colonel probably doesn't even know who we are and where we are. I'm just here to get paid and get the hell out of here. I just needed the extra credits to cover some gabbling debt."

"Okay, well there's a speeder truck half a klick East of us towards that old abandoned warehouse. Mind turning your portable scanner that direction to take a look at it?"

"Everything here is abandoned, including that speeder truck probably," Charles said, sounding annoyed at having to get up.

"That speeder truck just arrived," Dockings said matter-of-factly.

"No Sith," Charles said, getting up from his folding chair with a sigh and grabbing the scanner and having Dockings point out the vehicle in the darkness, "Its Imperial," Charles said after a long moment, "So what's the big deal?"

"The big deal!? Charles, don't you remember the briefing?!"

"No, not really. I was too hung over and staring at that Twi'lek's female's behind to really care about some pointless briefing. I was thinking about getting her comm number, maybe her and I could hook up after this job is over and you know, see where it went from there."

Dockings rolled his eyes, "The Major was saying that if we spotted any increased Espo traffic or any Imperial vehicles, to radio in immediately!"

"Oh," Charles said, "Okay, well, radio it in then."

Dockings put a palm to his forehead, "You don't get it do you? Since when does the Empire show up in a out-dated rusty bucket of a speeder truck! Their the Empire!"

"Just saying it kid," Charles told the younger man, "I need to pea and can't stand here for ever."

"That's probably Imperial Intelligence or ISB!" Dockings said, "Which means we could have the local Imperial garrison on top of us in any moment!"

"Look kid," Charles said, "Radio it in. Fine. But I'm not going to die in any firefight. As soon as those blaster bolts start flying against Imperial soldiers, I'm out of town. I have my cash advance, that'll be more then enough for transport and to pay my debts. I just won't have any savings to play with. But what's money if your dead and can't enjoy it, right? I need to pea."

"But Charles!" The younger man protested to the 30's year old man, but by then the older man was behind a roof structure and Dockings could hear the tell-tale sign of a bathroom break soon after. Shaking his head, he went to grab for the hand-held comlink left on the cooler between the two of them for their use. But suddenly he felt a stinging sensation. He looked down towards his hand and saw that his hand was detached from his wrist and that his now solo hand was laying on-top of the cooler, blood running from his wrist and from his severed hand. He was about to open his mouth to scream, but a sudden slit and all thought process was over.

Commander Top, Storm Commando squad leader of a squad of six right now and personal executor and loyal servant of Hilick Soal himself, watched the man's head roll from his body onto the roof top, his headless body falling from it's once double kneeling position onto the roof top. The Commander looked around and then hand motioned for his other commandos to advance, each scaling the wall and getting over the roof ledge quietly. Somewhere behind a roof structure, Commander Top could hear the muted shock as someone was stabbed in the throat by one of his commandos. Once the "all clear" was given over the internal helmet comms, Commander Top motioned the squad to move forward on mission...


TBC

 

Mahaben
The Docks, CSA

The blind man shook his head, and remained silent. The questions he had at the moment where not for the captain, but for himself.

Lasso’s tone was not lost to him. The man was becoming impatient, which was a trait of the darkside. Always the quick and easy path. Reckless. Mahaben had disagreed with Sodalis regarding the training of new found force sensitives. It was "too dangerous" he said. In his estimation, they were safer untrained, from themselves and from any who would brand them as outlaws, but in the end, she had persuaded him and he had made a promise.

Now, the captain was leaving him behind in the vehicle. Here was an opportunity, a personal cross-road. He could very well leave the young mercenary to his adventures and his own devices. He owed him nothing and nothing was owed to him. Not to mention, he was good at disappearing when he wanted to. Coming back to civilization, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now…

Mahaben sighed.

No one said it was going to be easy. Had he lost his 'deep commitment'? His 'most serious mind'. The blind man chuckled to himself. Those words belonged to a time long gone now. But still, he had a promise to keep.

As for the captain, Mahaben could still track him visually. He was the one with the most distinctive aura in the vicinity. In addition, the miraluka would also be able to detect anyone trying to sneak up on him. Well, never mind that. They all had their instructions.

“I’m glad he asked you to keep an eye on him. I’m afraid mine are missing…” Mahaben quipped at Ayres.

Of course, he chuckled at his own sense of humor and waited for the mechanic’s reaction, while still keeping a ‘special eye’ on the captain. This…'mission', might just be his greatest challenge post-Clone Wars.

And as he finished that thought, that’s when he felt it. That all too familiar chill in the force.

Death.

Mahaben’s head snapped suddenly in the direction the captain had gone. The bad feeling…it was coming back.


Tag:Bravo ,Vehn

 

OOC: Quote is from the Michael Mann film, Heat

IC: Rodian (nrc), Mary and Ulrike (npcs), Low Night’s Bar, and Moon Over Agua, respectively
Location: Craci Prime Imperial Class Spaceport


Zed rose from his shadowed booth a few beats after the loud paramilitary spacer, and his blind-folded monastic companion stepped out of the bar, and followed them out onto the street.

The road was still moderately busy at night time, almost like those cities reputed to never sleep.

He looked to the right, seeing the rear of the dark red A-A5 jalopy that the two had boarded, heading off, then looked across the road and waved.

A pre-booked metrocab veered across the street, and parked in front of him, the near side door sliding open for him.

“The A-A5 Speeder Truck,” he instructed the droid driver, once he had shut the door and settled into the dark passenger area behind it, “dead ahead. Follow, but maintain a distance of no less than a hundred metres.”

The spacer had mentioned the J-word, attracting Zed’s antennae, and the capture, dead or alive, of a jedi, represented some useful income for him and his friends, even if they donated half to their cause.

Still, his friends had pointed out that the word itself, and his description of the pair was not definitive enough for the rest to converge on his location, so he was going to follow them, see if he could see this “jedi” character for certain.

* * * *

Moments later, further down the street in the other direction, the two women laden down with shopping bags, pushed through the swing doors of the Moon Over Agua, looking across the street to the line of Utilitech Metrocabs parked on the other side.

Some had the logos of independent taxi firms, while a couple were linked to the spaceport, designed purely to ferry spacers and tourists between the docking bays and the ports.

“That guy who said, ‘Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the Heat around the corner.’ I know what he’s talking about, now; we are so fragging vulnerable carrying these things.”

“Leave yours if you want, but this is the first time I’ve been paid and gone shopping since before we got involved with the Kingdom of Jod. I ain’t leaving anything behind. Besides, we’ve got the Commander’s MM9 wrist-rocket thingummy. I’m sure he’ll understand, but I don’t want to disappoint him.”

The nurse caught the photoreceptors of one of the spaceport transport drivers, and it cruised across the road to park before them, the nearside door with it’s two tinted windows sliding aside for them.

Ulrike heaved her bags onto the raised deck, then turned to take Mary’s, then climbed after them, and helped Mary in.

Soon, they were on the way back towards the Luck’s Gamble.

Tag: Any who notices a tail

 

IC: Tiaca
En route to Spaceport Customs, CSA

Looking at the image of Winterkill in her HUD Tiaca snorted silently to herself inside her helmet. For a moment she had an impish impulse to whack the back of this guys skull, only then who knows what would happen. . .Jeth might take offence and dock her pay, or horror of horror it could spark an interspecies romance that would span the stars and coat the galaxy with the darkest matter ever conceived. . .glitter!

Snorting at the image again in the privacy of her helmet she waited until the rickshaw came to a complete stop and wirelessly transmitted the droids preferred form of currency. "I have my answer, still curious of yours Sephi. Either way, I am watching. Always." With that rather dramatic use of words she paused at the doors for a moment, getting her figurative game face on. After all this was her longest mentor, friend, and clan member. . .well if you can consider mutual loathing and admiration without trying to kill each other even whilst sleeping on purpose or fear it a clan tie. Well there was more to it but for now that would have to suffice, she couldn't spend all day reminiscing. No matter how fun it would be to remember accidently cutting of Tessor's hand, or shooting him in the foot a few times over the years. Ah, the good days.

Assuming a more marshal stance she tapped the door button and proceeded into what was an odd arrangement. There were the customs kiosks that any spacer would recognize with the energy roped off lanes, droid security attempting to remain aloof and failing, and then of course the organic with a desk at the back of the room, center for once. Either side of him held doors unmarked, one leading to storage, break rooms, and the data back bone of the place. The other most likely to security offices, holding, and more elicit claimed material storage. Ignoring the lines for the terminals, which were rather short, she proceeded to the organic. The person was a Troig, so in fairness it was two someone's each working their own, and obviously separate sides of their console. "What do want?" Called the Left head.

"Picking up a body, preparations for ship to be transported to next of kin." She calmly replied whilst holding up a data pad before passing it over.

"Forms? Eh? Oh. . ." the being took the pad before setting it down upon his station to filter through the paper work. "Everything seems to be in order, Espo approval. Not even going to ask. . ."

"But I will," responded the other as he joined the conversation. "How did you get that?"

"Spared someone's life. Clear?" She replied as she pulled out her large blade and set it down forcefully on the console. "The body?" She asked as the one head seemed transfixed by the blade and the other quickly seeming to have urgent data on his screen.

"Right out, sled at no charge if returned inside one hour of receipt." It didn't take long after that for a door to open on the left and a hover sled to appear with her mentors headless body brought out. "Now get it out of here quickly, we are a customs station, not a morgue." Swallowing quickly that head found something else to do as well once she dragged her blade off the console.

Resetting it in it's proper place she nodded at the R3 unit that had trundled the body out before taking the sled and leading the way to the docking bay 4 that held Tessor's ship, A very nicely upgraded JM-5K, or Jump Master 5000 which had it's name painted brilliantly in white on it's grey hull in Trandshan. Roughly translated it was "Jaggarnath Collections, good to see it. Let's hurry, and don't walk near the walls inside. Stay to the center. How he ever got landing without biohazard labels all over the hull I never did discover."

Moving ahead she left the sled for Winterkill to operate up the distended ramp whilst she talked to the ship in Dosh, the Trandoshan language of hisses and guttural noises she had learned so well even before Tessor. It wasn't long before the door opened to a gloomy and dimly lit interior cast in shades of deep dim red. "Home sweet home, you can almost smell the rot. Just toss that anywhere she said as she made a straight line for a back closet that opened to reveal an advanced computer terminal.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: Winterkill
At Customs Building, CSA
Helmets.

Perhaps he should get one, but no...that wasn't really his style, however, he could see some uses aside of practical application. There was a totally inscrutable pause where Tiaca regarded him for a heartbeat, and he gleaned absolutely nothing from it -except for possible mix-messages concerning equivocal gender leverage-power play or just plain 'bad communication' between agents.

He couldn't quite decide wether this was happenstance or intentional.

"I have my answer, still curious of yours Sephi. Either way, I am watching. Always."

Winterkill thought over what she'd said, but found he had no references to work with. Could she be speaking to someone else via internal helmet comm? It was possible. Either way, they had departed the non-explosive rickshaw pretty much in silence and unharmed. Within moments, the pair reached the customs office.

Simply by watching Tiaca's posture and body language, the nagai understood that the bounty hunter did plan to 'do the talking.'

Winterkill would be lying if he was to say he did not find the interchange somewhat amusing. The manner in which the two headed alien reacted to Tiaca, well...how the two heads themselves reacted individually, was actually good comedy. Tiaca had made her 'point', which yielded the desired results. Good.

An R3 unit brought out the beheaded body on a sled. How generous. It became obvious that he was there to push-along the sled. Wordlessly, he complied and followed the bounty hunter.

He keenly listened to her as he regarded their surroundings and the docking bay. Can't ever be too careful. Be that as it may, the grey ship they were now approaching was quite interesting looking, save for the bright writing on its side. Tiaca proceeded to give some very specific instructions.

"Don't walk near the walls, Stay to the center. Got it." He said audibly enough.

Listening to Tiaca speak in an alien language was most interesting and worthy of note. Her sense of humor however, was priceless, especially because he doubted she was trying to be funny.

"Home sweet home, you can almost smell the rot. Just toss that anywhere."

So, he disposed of their load near the entrance and simply watched her, and the rest of the ship's interior. Indeed, something had to be done about the smell. There were dead things within, he could smell them, but besides that, the ship looked functional. Tiaca was now at a closet, which revealed what looked like an advanced computer terminal.

Winterkill let out an 'impressive' whistle. So, the data for the garrison's interior was in there. What else, he wondered, would the ship's database contain? Would it be comparable to Nyx's?

"I don't suppose you could simply commandeer the ship..."

Yes, he did say that out loud. It wasn't an altogether bad idea. Why waste a perfectly functional ship?

Tag:Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Warehouse District, Craci Spaceport

Taab was scanning the area visually, looking for any sign of them being watched. The droid was supposed to be near the other side of the district, street AA-3. Taab hadn't wanted to get dropped off too close to the safehouse it had set up for them, so they would have to hoof it. That would have been a great plan had the shabla thing not gone off and gone NORDO (no radio) on them. Now he wished they had been dropped off closer. Well nothing to be done about that now.

A brief flash sparked up beside him. The woman lighting up another cigarra. Taab scowled behind his T-Visor, she had no sense of light discipline. He hadn't seen her fly that often, but he hoped she was a better pilot than an operator. The small group started walking.

"Taab, Lasso. We're clear. Heading to meet you. We have a ride."

That was good news, at least the Skipper had gotten through whatever it was he had encountered. Taab knew he should have more faith in the man to be able to protect himself, but it was his professional duty to see the man was kept safe. He would have preferred to have been with him.

"Well we should probably go to Dock 29. That bartender seemed to want me to go there... Think you can protect me against some slavers if things get dicey?" Taab grunted in reply. He should have felt insulted at such a question, but well, he just didn't care that much. Instead he commed back to Lasso.

"We're five," he looked at the others "make that ten minutes out from the docks, Skipper. You need help or do we continue on mission?"

As he waited for a reply he turned his head towards Masha suddenly. "Douse that light," he said in a calm and yet threatening manner. "It attracts the the eye, from here on out we move by stealth." The droid was meticulous about everything. If it had stopped transmitting suddenly, well that could only mean there was a problem. And Taab lived to solve such...problems.

TAG: Bravo, Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65

---

IC: Atin Taab
UIS Mines, Craci Prime, dozen kilometers from Imperial-class Spaceport

The soft ground continued to shift slightly under Atin's heavy beskar (Mandalorian Iron) boots. "Su'cuy ad'ika (Hey Kiddo)." Atin cracked a wide grin under his buy'ce (helmet) The elf's accent was getting better.

"You okay?" Atin nodded in reply. "In better shape then you." he added rather defiantly. "Had to break up a kidnapping to get here, but I got us some off the books transport." He jerked his thumb back towards where he had parked the stolen speeder van. The digger continued its precarious slide and Atin looked up into the cab to see the driver still inside, Oh, so that's what Yav had been doing up there.

"I got this." Atin let out confidently, pushing off the soft ground he gave a short burst with his jetpack to alight himself on the vehicle next to the control cab. It shifted even further under the added weight and inertia of his landing. "Whoa," he called out barely able to maintain his balance. "Stand back!" he shouted out to the driver as a set of blades extended along the edges of his right gauntlet. He knew buir(father) would have used one of his fancy jetii'kad (lightsaber) trophies to effortlessly carve the cab open. But Atin hadn't earned any such trophies just yet. He would have to make due using his gauntlets to break the glass.

Making sure the driver had retreated slightly in the cab and covered his face, Atin slammed his forearm once, twice, three times against the "glass". It was tough stuff, meant to keep the driver safe from any manner of debris the digger could unearth, but it failed against the pounding. Reaching in Atin tried to grab a hold of the man's sweat stained shirt but the the digger shifted dangerously and began a final slide into the fiery abyss, threatening to take Atin and the driver with it. "Shaaaaab....."

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Sunri Lasca
Warehouse District, Craci Spaceport

Surni coughed lightly as the smoke from the cigarra Masha was smoking moved past his face.

"Well we should probably go to Dock 29. That bartender seemed to want me to go there... Think you can protect me against some slavers if things get dicey?"

Granted, that didn't seem like a good idea to Sunri. Then again, Force knew he had been running from the Imps enough to be wary of things that may or may not be a trap. It might be completely harmless, but it might not be. He was going to say something to that effect, even opened his mouth (getting more of that kriffing smoke for his efforts), but the Mando (Taab?) beat him to it.

"Douse that light," he said in a calm and yet threatening manner. "It attracts the the eye, from here on out we move by stealth."

Sunri could agree with that. He even made an effort to cover up anything remotely shiny (thankfully his DH-17 had long since been dulled down for security) on his person. He still had the problem of not having a kriffing idea of what they were doing though. But, hey, it wouldn't be the first time by any means. Probably not the last either.

"For what its worth, I agree," he said, talking about the light.

TAG: Heavy Isotope , Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Sydney Ayres
Speeder Truck A-A5, Warehouse District

“I’m glad he asked you to keep an eye on him. I’m afraid mine are missing…” Mahaben quipped at Ayres.

Sydney chuckled. The blind man had a sense of humor. Course, it was his luck that he had been stuck with this man of seemingly endless delight. There was something odd about him, Sydney thought, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Ayres himself felt blind to the entire situation. Maybe a blind joke was in order now.

"You see anything? Me either," Sydney said not waiting for Mahaben to get back to him."Nothing like the blind leading the blind."

Sydney grabbed a flask that he'd stowed away in his coveralls. He took a long pull, relaxed, and slipped the metallic flask into the open hands of Mahaben.

"Drink up, man. This stuff is so good it will open your eyes," Ayres joked.

Okay, so the blind jokes were pretty bad but Ayres couldn't help himself. It wasn't very often that he had worked with someone that couldn't see.

"In all seriousness, tell me a little bit about yourself," Sydney prodded.

Tag:greyjedi125

 

IC: Yavscout, UIS Mines
Location: Craci Prime, dozen klicks from Imperial Class Spaceport


The boy nodded in reply to Yav's asking if he was okay. "In better shape then you." he added rather defiantly.

Cheeky, The elf thought, buffing himself with Endure Fire. The magical heat shield was one of his longest lasting protections, but he had not had much call to use it in this dimension.
He stayed away from volcanoes and iron foundries, making the only heat of any note to be worth "enduring" to be blaster bolts, and he had learned pretty quickly that the buff was spectacularly ineffective against packets of gas-bound superheated plasma!

He rubbed his chest through the thin t-shirt fabric, at the memory.

"Had to break up a kidnapping to get here," the lad continued, drawing a surprised smile from the elf.

"Good boy!"

"-but I got us some off the books transport." Atin jerked his thumb back towards where he had parked the stolen speeder van. The digger's continued slide re-attracted the attention of both Mercs, and Yav watched the younger Mando'a T-visor turn to scrutinise leaning driver's cab.

Yav opened his mouth to deliver an abbreviated sitrep (situation report) but didn't get a chance to say anything.

"I got this." Atin let out confidently, pushing off the soft ground he gave a short burst with his jetpack to alight himself on the vehicle next to the control cab.

"And that leaves me," Yav left-turned toward the slightly collapsed crater wall, the upper ridge now visibly silhouetted against the orange glow of fires beyond, "to go get the kids."

He jogged away from Atin and the digger, boots digging into the dark sand as he powered his way up and over the ridge, where the scene had changed a bit, the crater interior around the schoolbus was now spotted with miniature gouts of yellow flame, as if the ground shaken by the digger's approach had spawned a litter of baby volcanoes.

He heard Atin's exclamation of "Shaaaaab....." from behind him, as he peered across at the wide-eyed faces that in the flickering light, could be seen at the windows.

Although he would still baulk at letting Atin fly through a ******* asteroid field, he decided the give the kid a break, and with no hesitation this time, the elf stomped down the incline, footfalls sliding on the loose granular slope, the heat increasing as he walked closer to the hoverbus, where he could see the yellow paint bubbling and browning on the hull. And no surprise; it was like a fething oven down here, the crater sides reflecting the heat back to the centre.

Something had to be done to blow these flames out, he realised, otherwise the bus and the occupants would get cooked before he could rescue all of them.

He had just the thing, narrowing his eyes with determination as he cast the spiralling Whirling Wind area effect spell, the magically-enhanced breeze picking up in intensity to wash out from himself to extinguish the flames!




"Okay. Fethed that one up." Yavscout scowled in annoyance, Fragging red rock.

He hesitated, staring in awe at the thing that he had spawned, the roaring, spinning column of fire that seemed to corkscrew up into the clouds overhead, then sighed, deliberately stepped round the angrily spitting, crackling phenomenon and went over and rapped politely on the door closest to the driver's seat.

Several of the people inside vehemently shook their heads.

Yav could feel the heat at his back now, and knew that in a moment he'd be standing there in a backless t-shirt. He didn't get the fashion concept with that new Mary crewmember, and didn't fancy going there himself.

He rapped on the door a bit more insistently.

Eventually a small person shouldered his way through the nay-sayers and hit the release, the door snapping aside before the elf, who instantly jumped in and slapped the button to seal the door behind him while facing a deluge of questions from everyone inside. "Thanks, Kid. Okay people, I'm here to help."

"Where's my Dad?"

"Is anyone doing anything?"

"Are you it?"

"Can you help us?"

"What does MERCS mean?" Asked one boy, finally asking something he could answer.

"Mobile Emergency Rescue Crew."

"No it doesn't. It doesn't mean that at all." Yav glanced at the chubby kid who had piped up knowingly, but said nothing, "It's short for mercenaries."

"Did you bring anything to drink?" Someone else asked, echoed anxiously by several of her peers, Yav wincing at that one; it simply had not occurred to him. Of course, he had the ability to conjure up a glass bottle of cooling water, but it would require sitting and memming the spell as he didn't have it loaded, and he was past that.

This was a rescue.

"Okay, shut up!" The bus went silent, surprising the elf with the notice they had taken off him. That normally wasn't the case. "Right, is anybody hurt? I hear you fell out of the sky when the repulsors cut out?"

An adult answered that, the driver Yav assumed, from the fact he wore a grey uniform, and sat hunched in the drivers' seat, his face and armpits wet with perspiration: "No, we were lucky. I had the inertial dampers dialled up to full, and they lasted long enough to keep the landing soft."

Yavscout nodded. "Good, good. Okay, can anybody tell me what the word 'teleport' means?"

One small hand went up over their heads, and Yav pointed towards it. "It is to do with a device that the Rakatan Infinite Empire had to transport people instantly to places."

"It is?" This was news to Yav, who figured he would use what he figred to be a science fiction staple to prepare the kids for how he was going to get them out. "It is. Okay, I'm going to hold hands with five of you, and beam you to safety, then come back for the next five, and so on till you are all free. Alright, who're the first five. No pushing, someone grab my right hand."

An adult who had thus far remained silent, stood up from one of the seats behind the crowd of kids, "I should go with the first group, I'm their teacher, and can keep them safe while you come back for more. Plus, the parents and school board wouldn't want me just letting you taking the younglings anywhere."

The elf hesitated. He had wanted to tell Taab's lad that the catering truck with the chairs would be his staging area, and to wait there for the kids, when he was done with the digger, but Atin had gotten stuck in before he had a chance.

"Okay, but obviously means I can only take four children on this trip."

"Ow!" One of the kids yelped and swore, and when Yav looked over, the child was sucking on the fleshy part of his hand. ""

"Language, Timothy." The teacher admonished with a glare.

"Sorry, sir. The metal is hot."

"Well, don't touch it then."

"Children, keep away from anything metal. I'm going to be back in a few moments."

"Okay, everyone. Stay calm, and start organising yourselves into groups of five by surname, in alphabetical order. I want the next group ready to go once Mister-?"

"Yavscout."

"-once Mister Yavscout comes back."

Yav regarded the teacher. "You are being awfully trusting that I can do this sith."

The man nodded out the window at the dancing fiery twister. "Look where you are. Nobody goes to these lengths unless they can do what they say."

Or are delusional, Yav countered silently, making a last visual check that the ring that he formed with the teacher and four of his charges was unbroken, their hands linked, and that his minds eye was showing the five additional life bars, all healthy greens. "Okay, Group One. Let's rock 'n' roll."

Lesser Succor

The hot interior of the bus, the parallel rows of seating stretching to the back, started to look transparent, fading from his sight with all but the five he was grouped with, who remained solid to him, until it was just him and them in nothingness for a mearest microsecond, and then he could see the catering truck materialising into view behind them, and then he and the five were standing by the vehicle, experiencing the much fresher and colder night air.

One youngster instantly sneezed, unable to disentangle his hands from his friends' in time, the child opposite sprayed in nasal matter.

"Now that's snot my fault!" Yav deadpanned.

Tag: Atin

OOC: Vid copyright - Alice Springs Film and Television

 

IC: Mahaben
Speeder Truck-A-A5, Warehouse District

The blind man chuckled and was glad for the mechanic’s humor. There was a secret magic to humor in the universe, it had a particular quality of suspending spiritual malaise, not so unlike music. Too bad it couldn’t simply do away with unpleasantness altogether.

“Drink up, man. This stuff is so good it will open your eyes,” Ayres joked.

Mahaben raised his hand and shook his head, politely declining the offered flask, a sympathetic smile now on his face. The mechanic meant well, but the miraluka had seen so many lives ruined by the spirit dwelling in many flasks just like that one. He had no doubt that the mechanic had a story of his own.

“In all seriousness, tell me a little bit about yourself…” the mechanic inquired, as it was only natural.

Mahaben sighed, internally wishing for the day when all in the universe would be right.

“My name is Mahaben…a pleasure to meet you…” the blind man began slowly, but all humor had left him now.

“We have stumbled into a maw of death. If this vehicle has sensors, I suggest they are used to their fullest capacity, leave no ‘ping’ un-identified. Warm up the weapon emplacement and be ready to use it. The captain is being stalked, it’s my duty to follow and protect his ‘blind spot’.” Mahaben offered a sly smile as he moved now, ready to make an exit.

“You stay here, keep the engines running and the vehicle operational. We may need a quick get away. Let the Captain know that ‘blinders’ is on the hunt…something about cleaning his six. Hopefully he will understand. As for me…I must attend to the business of death.”

With that, Mahaben offered Sydney a proper salute, egressed the vehicle and spilled out into the night. In a blink of an eye, he had disappeared into the shadows and out of all perceptions.

Whatever was out there could not be left to its own devices. Mahaben understood the tactical risks he was taking, but it could not be helped. This was almost like one of several missions he had undertaken so many years ago during the Clone Wars, except, this time he was alone. No, he was never alone, for the Force was his ally, and a powerful ally…it would always be.

Tag:Vehn , Bravo , Intervention

(OOG: A blind man’s gotta do what a blind man’s gotta do! )

 

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Abandoned warehouse parking lot, somewhere near "The Docks" and Street AA-Three


There seemed to be no argument or discussion with his orders---

Orders.

The word still seemed foreign in Lasso's thought process. He was a leader, a commander, a general of men and women to do something better then what had come before. And he---

Jason looked across to Boras as the two walked causally towards the security gate ahead, the hover truck in a great distance now. But something didn't feel right. Something was wrong. Lasso couldn't feel anything through the Force---or maybe it was because he wasn't trying---because his gut was telling him something was off. They were mere meters from the gate and no warning to halt, to stop, to---

"Boras!" Lasso piped up urgently as he sped up his walk to a small jog as he came to a kneel besides two dead bodies along the security fence. Their throats were sliced and their bodies pulled away from any light fixture. And their communication devices were missing. This was a professional job.

Lasso went for his wrist comm and nothing but static came up.

"Comms are jammed," Lasso said matter-of-factly to Boras as he nodded them in a new direction, his blaster rifle unslung from his back and now in his grips. The two Mercs avoided the lights the best they could, but it seemed no one was watching. Or cared.

Or were dead.

They neared the security gate, two overhead heavy industrial street lamps overhung the gate. Everything was silence. A warning sign was posted to the gate fence saying that the property was off-limits. The guard house just outside the gate was silent, as was the guard house inside the fenced area. But the hand and trail of blood coming from the outside guard house told Lasso all he needed to know.

"Okay Boras," Lasso said, arming his blaster rifle, "We're about to go find Dak in the middle of this nightmare. Someone wants these guys dead. Problem is, we don't know who these guys are and who wants them dead. But whoever it is, they're professionals or at least had professional professional training. Could be another mercenary unit, but from the looks of it, these guys are all about stealth and class. They're good and they make it a point to show it by their work. Go along the fence---whoever did this had to find a way in beyond opening the front gate and just walking in. I'll cover your six. Got it?" There was a simple nod, "Good, lets go be bad guys." [1]


TAG Master Selkath


References:

[1] Firefly TV series

 

IC: Alex the worker
Warehouse District, near the spaceport


He wasn't paid to ask questions. His boss had asked him if he wanted to make some extra holiday pay to help the family through the season. Naturally, Alex had agreed. The late thirties human had one son and one daughter at home, was a single dad (ever since that Sith of a ex-wife ran off with her Alien boyfriend...alien rights, yea, Alex had alien rights all right, in the form of a blaster), and had to make ends meet. His sister was watching the kids tonight, so he could work the extra long shift. Yea, this wasn't his warehouse. Yea, it was late at night. And yea, there were some guys carrying blasters and projectile weapons around. Alex was pretty sure this wasn't your typical legal operation, so he had packed his .48-caliber Enforcer pistol. Yea, they were highly illegal to get outside of the Morellian Commonwealth. So, it was a Christmas gift to himself a few years ago. Alex knew a buddy who knew a buddy who dealt in the Black Market. The weapon couldn't be traced and while the single father knew it was illegal to carry with no serial number if caught by the Empire...he needed something to protect his family with. It wasn't like the CSA or the Empire were doing a bang up job at that right now anyways. This whole rebellion thing was catching the galaxy on fire. Those alien loving terrorists! If Alex could, he would of joined the Empire and kicked some alien butt. As he saw it, the Empire was right. Aliens were second class to humans and had to be put in their place. Maybe, Alex thought, he was being too rough---well maybe that was the case years ago. But that alien his wife ran off with was his best friend from high school and...

Alex pushed the thought out of his head as he focused on what he was getting paid in a lot of cash to do, operate the All Terrain Construction Transport. You needed a license to run these babies and they weren't easy to operate, especially alone, as Alex was doing. But he didn't want to split the cash with his co-worker and so never told him about the job. Maybe a bit cold, but as Alex moved the walker into position to pick up another crate and move it to the now waiting Rising Star that had just docked at the sea port, he justified not telling his good working buddy of twelve years about the job because Alex really needed the money to give his kids something for Christmas, something to make it look like daddy's long work weeks and overnight shifts were making a difference in their lives. After all, Jimmy wanted that miniature stormtrooper toy for Christmas and April wanted the dancing princess toy and daddy was going to make sure his kids were happy, no matter what.


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

As the Walker moved on, carrying a crate, Commander Top waited an extra moment from behind the crates then waved his fellow Storm Commandos forwards. They slipped across the open ferroconcrete, a slight drizzle starting to collect on the hard surface. Making it to the next available coverage, they waited a moment as a group of droids and hover carts went by, following the walker towards the ship that had just docked, then waited for the two guards to walk by. They waited...waited...waited...then two of their team ran behind a passing by landspeeder truck heading to the docked ship, climbing onto the back. Top then ordered the rest of the squad to move out, using blind spots, shadows, and other cover as they moved. So far, so quiet. First objective would be to take out the communications jamming in the area. Then take out the command post. All quietly. Tracking devices would be placed on the cargo ship and then Top and his men had very specific orders for a orbital strike package on the site. The Commander smiled under his helmet---how would Coruscant take take the news of an Imperial warship laying waste to a CSA planet?


TBC (tag greyjedi125 if needed)

 

IC: Imperial Forces
Morellia, Morellian Commonwealth


The town's burning remains, shooting up into the rainy night sky, reflected off of the Incinerator trooper's helmet lenses as his weapon of choice spat flame out at a pile of books outside of town. It was a useless burn, the town was destroyed, but command had said everything. The whole town was to burn and everything in it. The whole world. Every last one of the Morellians.

Ahead of him, several platoons length of Imperial Army Troopers marched by along both sides of the road, marching out of the burning remains of the town. Most of them looked worn, tired, and defeated. It was clear they weren't expecting their orders, which was minimal involvement in the operation, to secure the boarders of the town and prevent runners. The infantry grunts of the Stormtrooper Corps had received the orders, with several squads of CompForce Troopers and ISB Stormtroopers, to carry out the execution orders on the town. Well, if these Imperial Army grunts weren't up for the task of carrying out their orders, the incinerator trooper wouldn't mind replacing them with clones, like himself. Clones were better anyways. They followed orders and never questioned those orders---most of the time.

The incinerator trooper smiled to himself as a group of four Morellians were dragged along the road past the Imperial Army Troopers by a group of Imperial Stormtroopers. It was a family; the father, son, mother, and daughter were dragged against their will kicking and screaming by several Stormtroopers who deposited their bodies onto the field next to the road.

"No! Stop!" Said the father, holding up his hands as he knelt in front of his family as a human shield, "Please don't do this!"

The Stormtroopers had their orders, raised their E-11's, and fired several blaster bolts into the family. Soon, the screams of the family were silenced. The stormtroopers calmly moved on.

The incinerator trooper looked at the passing by Imperial Army Troopers---most of them young kids straight out of high school---who looked on in terror. The incinerator trooper's glare got their attention and they moved on, turning their attention away.

The incinerator trooper looked towards the mangled corpses of the dead family on the grass and walked over there, seeing movement. Kicking away an arm of the dead father, the son lay there gasping for any hope of life, his body riddled with blaster bolts.

"Why?" Asked the son, rain dropping on his face and mixing with blood already there, making the blood run down his face and into the ground.

The incinerator trooper smiled, "Because kid. We had our orders. And we follow our orders." And the Rebel Alliance infested your whole damn town. So we had to purify it. The trooper thought afterwards, adding, The Rebels use kids, wives, and anyone else they can to do their dirty work. So we don't know who is friend and who is foe. So it all burns to make sure.

With that, the incinerator trooper aimed his flame projector at the kid and his family and depressed the trigger...



TBC

 

IC: Boras Felroah
Abandoned warehouse parking lot, somewhere near "The Docks" and Street AA-Three
The two Mercs were walking towards what seemed to be a security gate of some kind. Boras was impressed with the young captain and his leadership skills which he had not expected from a younger person. He admired Lasso's confidence but had a bad feeling about this mission. That prediction came true when they saw two bodies lying on the ground.

Lasso had run up to one of them and was kneeling over the soldier. Boras walked up and noticed what had made this scary. Their necks had been slit open with blood surrounding the injury. Boras kneeled over the other soldier and examined him. He grazed his finger over the cut and felt the smoothness of the slash.

"This wasn't a random street gangs doing" thought Boras as he finished the examination.

He looked at the scene and the blood around the bodies and said "This one was attacked first and killed almost instantly, the way his body fell tells me there was little struggle from this one. The other man tried to fight back but he also died quickly. By the looks of it they were both alive for about ten minutes before they bled to death. I don't know why they were killed but from experience this was a profesional kill made by a group of skilled attackers so we should be careful."

They pressed forward to the security gate and Boras noticed a guard house with a blood trail leading to it. The lights were shut off and the door was wide open. Boras then drew his two DL-44 heavy blaster pistols and had a bad feeling about this base.

"We're about to go find Dak in the middle of this nightmare. Someone wants these guys dead. Problem is, we don't know who these guys are and who wants them dead. But whoever it is, they're professionals or at least had professional professional training. Could be another mercenary unit, but from the looks of it, these guys are all about stealth and class. They're good and they make it a point to show it by their work. Go along the fence---whoever did this had to find a way in beyond opening the front gate and just walking in. I'll cover your six. Got it?" said Lasso to Boras.

Boras made a simple nod and said "Got it." The old medic then began to move around the fence.

Tag: Bravo

 

IC: Tiaca
Docking Bay 4, Jaggarnath Collections, Spaceport

Stopping her work at the controls where she had been setting up a secure reroute of a hypercomm signal to transfer a systems copy to her own ship, and the necessary information into a data chit; she simply turned and looked at him in her HUD. Had the barve actually just suggested stealing her mentor's ship? Her estimation of him was swinging faster than a Nexu hung by it's tails. Either this was a truly rare specimen of a survivor, or it was thief driven by greed.

"Controls are in the cockpit, ship is designed for bare arm Trandoshan pilot using micro scale ripples to input commands from the arm trenches instead of switches or knobs, that or you can try the Dosh voice interface." Turning back to her work she loudly proclaimed the pale Sephi an "{Idiot!}"

Setting the final sequences with a few key strokes, she spoke once more, "You are a braver man than I to invite the wrath of House Salaktori, I doubt the Houk that did that to Tessor will be alive after next month. Purely by accident of course." Closing the terminal she turned to face the barve Winterkill. "I'll return the sled and meet you in Docking Bay 7, my Tug is there. We'll need to change. Let Havah know if you have a way."

TAG: greyjedi125

 

OOG: Map of the warehouse district.

---

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Secured Warehouse section, somewhere near "The Docks" and Street AA-Three



Boras made a simple nod and said "Got it." The old medic then began to move around the fence.


It didn't take long for the two Mercs to find the hole in the fence. In fact, it was Boras who found it. Someone had taken extreme care to put it back and it was barely large enough to fit through. The two mercenaries found their way access to a nearby building---which housed mostly smaller landspeeders for work around the yard, lockers for personnel equipment, and storage closets for supplies frequently used. It also had a set of refreshers and a break room with vending machines. The two man team quickly cleared the bottom floor, finding nothing, then went up the only flight of stairs to the roof. The sight was...the same.

"Well medic," Lasso said, referencing the alien's old skills from the resume he had received before their first meeting, "How long these two been dead? And did they know?" Jason was asking as he looked at a body without a hand and a throat slit open.


TAG Master Selkath

 

OOC: I don't know if I'm in a mood or something, but I have had to roll out the set of seven asterixes to represent a certain word, a lot tonight, and it continues here.

The Rising Star, that's a long ******* ship!

 

OOG:

The vessel is capable of carrying "waves" of starfighters. So I imagined small aircraft carrier size or a bit smaller (not the huge USA aircraft carriers).

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Warehouse District, Craci Spaceport

"Douse that light," Taab said in a calm and yet threatening manner. "It attracts the the eye, from here on out we move by stealth." As intimidating as Taab is, she wouldn't let him see that she thought that way about him. She shouldn't have to be afraid of someone that is supposed to have her back and she have his. Being in the Danoor Defense Force taught her such loyalty, until she decided to leave she had never forsaken her comrades.

Masha took a last drag and looked to Taab, a slightly cheeky look in her eyes as she flicked the butt of her cigarra away. He certainly is uptight, she looked over as Sunri spoke up. "For what its worth, I agree," he said. She rolled her eyes and continued to walk with the group. They're both uptight, she thought. After all, no one was alerted to them being with The Mercs, and they were invited to Dock 29. Obviously there's something I ain't being told, she thought before slightly turning her head to Taab, keeping her eyes ahead and speaking in a hushed tone; "So what are we doing anyways, why do you expect so much trouble in Dock 29? I never told the barkeep I would be going there so they may or may not be expecting us. We got a bit of time to make up our minds about it anyways," Masha said to Taab, hoping he would understand that the situation wasn't as dire as he thought. Then again Masha had no idea what the Captain was running into out there, they only gave comms to a few of the crew members. The idea of dealing with the Hutts wasn't appealing to her but if she and Taab could get a good rate for the crew it might bode well for their reputation in acquiring future work. As young and new as she was, Masha wasn't without knowledge that money talks and makes the wheels of the galaxy turn.

Still the dim-lit and dingy streets of the warehouse district would give her pause if not for her companions. Masha figured Sunri could at least be as capable as her, Taab's skill was without question as a Mandalorian's reputation proceeds them; except perhaps his willingness to help them should things become worse. Taab and his son were hard to gauge in that respect, this was her first time working with either of them, aside from seeing them in passing glances aboard the Merc's ships. Masha's curiosity about them allowed her to look past their hardened sense of selves. Security at Dock 29 better not give her any guff about her knife, she wouldn't part with it. After all she only kept it for defense, not offense; after all the best defense being a good offense. As contradictory as her reasoning may be, ever since Port Haven she has been hesitant to pick fights. The memories of the Imperial Pilots in their burning cockpits and being ripped into the vacuum of space twisted inside her. Masha wouldn't let the thoughts show, she's always had a good and practiced poker face.

TAGS: Bardan_Jusik, Skywalker_T-65

 

IC: Winterkill
Docking Bay 4, CSA

The information about the ship's controls was quite useful and interesting. The rest of it was useless trivia. Clearly, sharing the idea he had for the mission would be a futile gesture here. This operative had already come to some conclusions, which in this case, was quite fine. Opinions abounded like stars in a galactic cluster, however, very few sustained actual life.

The fact that a clan of lizards would take offense was totally besides the point. The mission...that was the focus, that's what he was leading up to.

Never the less, a simple 'no', would have sufficed.

Winterkill shrugged as he reminded himself that this was all for Captain Taller and Captain Lasso, and better yet, it would soon be over, inevitably. As for changing, that was easy to say for a person hiding under a suit of armor.

"Docking Bay 7." He echoed, then turned and departed the vessel. It made sense that everything aboard that ship was putrid and in a state of decay, in more ways than one. It was simply the nature of things.

That aside, getting a change of gear -that would be no problem at all.

TBC

---

IC: Mahaben
Warehouse District, CSA

Over the years, following the trail of 'death' had become second nature and disturbingly...easy. The unequivocal pattern that was formed by entropic energies was chilling, like billowing black ink tainting clear waters, not to mention the indelible darkside resonance etched onto the site itself. Most believed that only sites could be cursed, or marked, but those who dealt in death were likewise marked themselves, as their hearts and souls darkened in the very act. Many of the Mercs bore such a mark, the captain, the mandalorian, the nagai, just to name a few. This was something Mahaben was personally very familiar with. But that was a matter for another time.

After moments of skulking through shadows, the blind miraluka found the two dead bodies. Bloody ichor surrounded the area where they had bled out, marking the spot of their death. The blind man sighed and shook his head.

'Such needless deaths, and the cycle continues without ceasing...' he observed within his mind.

Bogan was on the rise, establishing its dominion and swaying the course of events. The dark tide had to be stopped somehow, or at least slowed.

Putting philosophy out of his mind, Mahaben paused and opened himself to the Force. There was a clear and present threat in the area and he needed information. Thankfully, he was alone and he needed but a moment. As he knelt down, Mahaben touched one of the recently dead troopers as he activated Psychometry. In reverse order, he was able to glimpse and confirm that both Captain Lasso and his selkath bodyguard had encountered the bodies, but he did not stop there, he looked further back, just a bit more past the bleeding and the gasping, until...there! the moment of death.

Mahaben did not recoil, for he had seen too much death in his past, but the perpetrators...he...had never seen such armor before, but he immediately knew them to be imperial. This was some type of covert strike force, why else wear black armor. Death dealers. Without wasting another moment, he called on his Farsight ability. Again, the men in black armor appeared, dealing death quietly and efficiently, and before the miraluka disengaged his ability, he saw some sort of tall bipedal walking machine and...fire.

Everywhere.

Death.

Everywhere.

Mahaben stood up suddenly, stymying a powerful sense of trepidation. This was far worse than he'd anticipated. But at least he knew where to find the death dealers -more or less. Force willing....he would not be too late.

Still keeping to the shadows, the blind man moved quickly....quicker than the normal eye could follow. Time. There was never enough time.
Once again, Mahaben was thankful for the dimly lit surroundings as he ran and jumped clearly over fences and other obstacles. It took him a short moment to triangulate the Captain's location, thanks to his unique signature. Lasso was within one hundred meters from his current location, which was a short distance for him. If it weren't for the fact that, strangely enough, there seemed to be no one around, which indeed seemed very suspicious, Mahaben would have refrained from moving as he did.

After covering the distance in moments, in a single leap, the blind man made the roof of the building where Lasso and the selkath were currently at and landed silently as it was possible. The two Mercs were looking at another pair of dead bodies, killed pretty much in the same manner as the previous ones had been.

"Well medic," he heard Lasso say, "How long these two been dead? And did they know?"

'Blast! It cannot be helped.'

Mahaben appeared from the shadows then, but positioned himself at an angle and not directly behind either of the two mercenaries.

"Forgive me Captain, but this could not wait."

The blind man did not wait, but continued to speak, his sense of urgency clear in his voice.

"I believe men in black armor -Imperial armor- are responsible for these deaths and many others. Futhermore..."

Mahaben raised a hand, keeping anyone from interrupting.

"There will be lots of fire and death in the area. We are all in terrible danger. Those men, they are in one of those buildings as we speak."

With a gesture from a robed covered arm, Mahaben indicated the multitude of warehouses in the area. Feeling danger was one thing, knowing the exact nature of it, and if anything could be done about it was something else entirely.

"Don't ask me how I know, just believe what I am telling you. I'm not sure how soon, but very soon, there will be nothing but death and fire here."

The miraluka paused. He did not expect the captain to believe him, but he already resolved to track the death dealers who were distended with entropic energy and the darkside. These were relentless agents of Bogan...agents who needed to be stopped.

Tag:Bravo, Master Selkath

OOC: Sorry if this is a bit scattered. Just tired and really wanted to post. No metagaming intended if there's any in this post. ( send comments via PM). And Mitth_Fisto, I'll progress Winterkill tomorrow.
Vehn, sorry to run out on Ayres like that. Jedi+ Adventure= A mess!! LOL! Stay alert, Bravo might try to get ya! And now, time for sleepies.

 

Espo Orbital Patrol, Craci Prime orbit


The two IRD starfighters, one designed for atmospheric combat, descended through the clouds above the planet, trading one night for another; below them, the bright lights and thoroughfares of the spaceport and the township, factories and warehouses that had sprung up around its circular perimeter.

They steered towards the grey ziggurat at the centre of four major intersections, that was the Governor's Palace cum garrison, scanning rooftops with sensors, not for anything in particular, although there were plenty of comm traffic about two men who had messed up a joint Imperial / Security Police intercept, and stolen and then later abandoned a Security Police patrol airskimmer.

Thord was looking around visually while his fighter floated smoothly above the buildings, when he heard his partner, Chlosa, blurt over his comlink, "Back up, back up, I've picked up something."

The excitement in the voice piqued Thord's interest. "Oh yeah, what?"

"Hang on, I'll light him up for you."

A beam of hard white light appeared in Thord's peripheral vision on his right side, making him turn his head, and steering the IRD so that he could see better through the transparisteel cockpit globe, the light his team-mate was now bathing a roof edge, and the black-armoured individual aiming a DC-17 blaster rifle over the road at the garrison.

"HEY DOWN THERE! CAN WE HELP YOU?" bellowed from the other IRD's voice-hailer as it circled thirty metres above the perp.

"Haha, can we help you!" Thord tittered and echoed.

"I know, right?"

Tag: Kilo "Papa Zulu" Typhon

 

IC: Winterkill
Vicinity of Docking Bay area, CSA

Night. The time when all creatures sought refuge within their abodes, well...at least the wise ones. Only the cunning or the strong prospered under the auspices of darkness, all else became prey to those who hunted by the shroud of night.

What started as a simple and self-imposed mission to tail the captain and ensure his safety, has now morphed into something more...complicated. So, what else was new? when did any mission go exactly according to plan. By now he was used to this, he expected it and would likely be suspicious if such a thing did not occur. No, he did not regret returning to the Mercs, for it was home. But there were many new faces now and new dynamics he'd have to...'deal' with.

Winterkill put such musings aside for now. The reason for adopting a new appearance had not been given, but it was telling. It meant they would bee seen, that they had to make some kind of inevitable 'public' appearance and would not be staying in the shadows. The operation would not be completely about stealth....and he did not like that. Be that as it may, the captain had given specific orders, one of which was not to be seen, which the unspoken plan obviously contradicted. But perhaps, this was the quickest way to fulfill the captain's order in the shortest possible time. Maybe.

Nevertheless, the nagai planned to comply, but not without planning a few counter measures of his own. For the moment, he found himself a dark and shadowed spot near a bar not far from the docking bay. This was an elevated walkway, a small bridge of sorts within a small park, he of course, situated himself in the under-pass.

It was dark, and brave patrons ambled about, bolstered by a sense of safety driven by the presence of a few Espos patrols. Winterkill already studied them and knew the time it took them to complete their routes. Here, under the cover of darkness, none could really see him unless you got real close, which meant within his reach. With hood up and his body propped against the wall, he chose only solitary targets to whisper to, as they passed, oblivious to his presence.

"Spice, ryll, stim, deathsticks...good times."

The whispered words spoken from the shadows frightened many of the half-drunk passersby. If any of the frightened sheep attempted to find an Espo at the moment, they would find none within sight. Those targeted were usually close to his build, which meant he couldn't be too picky. Finally, one half-drunk-made-brave by way of intoxication did approach. His words were slurred.

"How mushh..." the human inquired.

"What's your pick?" the nagai countered, playing the part for a moment. The human was slightly bigger in frame, his clothes revealed that he appreciated respectable attire, a dark blue leisure suit...and a good deal of ale, from the smell of him.

" Get me shom shtim....or a shtick.....how much, I have creds...."

Too easy. Little choice.

With a sudden movement, the nagai shot forward, clutched the human's neck and kneed him in his diaphragm with enough force to put him down in one shot, but the instant his knee made contact, he realized the truth.

The man did not go down as expected, for he was wearing what felt like a protective vest under his clothes. He was some sort of undercover officer, and definitely not drunk either. Everything happened very quickly then. The human reached for a weapon inside his jacket just as Winterkill came upon him again. To the man's surprise, his target was too nimble. One moment he was aiming at the charging spice dealer's head and then...

Winterkill was in striking range and did a speedy backflip, his feet moving in a swift upward arc as his body rotated backwards, unerringly striking the human full under his unprotected chin. The force of the impact was enough to knock the man out-cold. Getting up in a smooth motion, the nagai regarded the human, then his weapon. A quick glance behind him revealed where the blaster bolt which missed him had it, the super heated mark on the wall already cooling.

It was time.

With practiced swiftness, Winterkill relieved the man from his clothing and protective chest armor. He also found that the human was wearing a tracker of some kind. This he left intact on the man, but the man's communicator he was sure to smash. As for the blaster...

Without wasting anytime, Winterkill put on the clothes over his own ( including the protective armor), after making sure there were no bugs. Whatever identifiable markings he found, he removed with his blade. He took what loose creds the man had, but retrieved nothing else.

The man lay still and unconscious upon the cool stone ground, clad only in his undergarments. Winterkill stood over him, blaster in hand. He could proceed as a mandalorian would, as he would personally, or as what would work best for the mission. No doubt the undercover would have to report in soon, or perhaps he was being tracked. Espos were likely on their way back around. Either way, company would be here sooner or later. It was time to go.

No one was around to peer inside the under-pass when the flash from two blaster bolts lit up the darkness. A moment later, only one figure emerged, dressed in respectable attire, except for the hood covering his visage.

*****

Several moments later, after making a pit stop at a specialty shop and taking an alternate route back, the nagai finally found his way to Docking Bay 7. After checking for any hidden traps, warning devices and security cameras he would most certainly avoid, Winterkill moved near the ship within the bay and simply knocked.

Hopefully, he was not too late.

Tag: Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: General Preeminent Hilick Soal
Bridge, Darkest Night, Assertor-class Star Dreadnought, Morellia, Morellian Commonwealth, several hours before the present warehouse events


Hilick Soal stood at the transparisteel viewports of the bridge, looking at the various smoking remains from low orbit of the smoking cities of Morellia. The rest of their star system was much the same. The last rumble of the heavy turbolaser batteries from the massive dreadnought fell silent, throwing their last remnants of deadly firepower downward to the planet below, disappearing from view, but by gunnery reports, hitting their target of destroying the last retreating remnants of civilians running to the mountains for cover and safety. The mountains, like the towns themselves, were completely on fire.

"General Preeminent," said a bridge officer, "Operation complete. The last remnants of the Morellia species has either been wiped out or captured. Only a few have been left alive, per your orders."

"Good," Hilick said, turning from the viewports and walking to the rear of the bridge; as he passed the bridge officer, "Recall our forces. We must make it to the Craci System. Commander Top's forces should be on planet by now."

The Morellian Commonwealth had been found in violation of Imperial Law by helping the Rebellion, at least on a very covert level. The Emperor had given Hilick Soal the very loose orders to handle it as he saw fit. Being a near-human race, Hilick couldn't justify letting them remain aiding the Rebellion and turning other near-human and human cultures to the Rebellion. Also being a near-human race, Hilick couldn't afford to have the Empire being pinned for a destruction of a human civilization, the cornerstone of the New Order. So Hilick took a very radical approach to inspire fear into the survivors and convert Morellia's, like Barosa Warren, into Imperial supporters and Rebel haters. While far more complex then needed, Hilick had decided to lay waste to the whole civilization, kill those that rebelled, imprison those that obeyed for Imperial slave camps and forced-in soldiers for the Imperial Army ranks, and leave a few survivors. The survivors would work with thousands upon thousands of construction droids---programmed by the Empire---to rebuild their civilization stone by stone, erasing all evidence of the massacre that had happened. Then a plague would be introduced to wipe out the rest of the survivors, to make it look like the species had merely died out. It was complex, a total waste of manpower and resources, but Hilick Soal had to make a point---to the galaxy and to the Empire---that he would do whatever it took to secure the Empire. For the time being, hundreds of thousands of space mines, droid-run gun emplacements, and a light picket fleet of three dozen older ships total, including CR70 corvettes, several Light Corvettes borrowed from the Imperial Customs fleet, a handful of CR90 Corellian Corvettes and DP20 frigates, a few Dreadnaught-class Heavy Cruisers, and even two Victory II-class Star Destroyers and a single Venator-class Star Destroyer to act as a mobile carrier and command ship, were deployed to patrol around the boarders of the Commonwealth and within the boarders to keep anyone from looking too closely. Being this far out into Wild Space, Hilick doubted anyone would care. But it was also nice to have an Imperial force in the area, should he ever need their services.

A lone Imperial Stormtrooper prefabricated garrison base was deployed on the home world as extra security in the Commonwealth and to ensure the locals stayed in line with the Imperial Law, just in case.

Hilick's biggest accomplishment out of this whole waste of time was the fact he had given Stormtrooper units the specific task of bringing back---and they had successfully---the best skilled Morellian Enforcers. Their long life spans and unique skills would be added to the new clone pool Hilick was drawing up for a secret group of Stormtroopers loyal to him and him alone...


TBC

 

IC: Sydney Ayres
Speeder Truck A-A5, Warehouse District



Mahaben was gone in the blink of an eye.

Now Sydney was all alone. Time to play some music: which he did. Oh, he loved this group, the Groovy Brothers. Oh yeah.

Sydney shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to the gun stowed away in the ceiling of the speeder truck. One look at the piece told him everything he needed to know and the message was clear: the gun was a man-killer, a ripper of torsos, a shattering of dreams and visions and Ayres would be more than pleased to put the weapon to good use. He tapped a button on a nearby console and watched with muted satisfaction as the roof slid back and the gun exposed itself to the sky for all to see, for all to marvel out, and for some to fear. He slipped into the gun's harness and heard the hydraulics engage as he gave the gun a little rotational tour of the surrounding scene. He was happy to see that the emplacement had iron sights, none of that digital crap, and had belt-fed ammunition in homage to those turrets that had come before. He really wanted to feel the power and surge of the gun, to see the destruction he could dish out, but there would be a time and a place for that. All he was doing right now was simply blending in with the rest of the goons around this place, unsuspecting victims of his mind.

His thoughts drifted back to the field tests of the AT-TE walkers during the Clone Wars. The hard, stomach sickening plunges through the atmosphere, the friction burns across the thick transparisteel windshield, the unlikely traction and power that the walker could exude across any terrain. Dropped by barges, deployed in lethal packs of four, the AT-TE's had been the pride of the Republic army, the workhorse of the ground pounders. Ayres had never used to machine in actual combat. Only on the test ranges of Rothana. But that in and of itself was an experience. One to remember. One to be proud of.

Ayres had been devoted to his work back then. Good work, holy work. The work of death and destruction, the work of resurrection, the work of creation. All of it was his responsibility. He loved every minute of it. Loved every passing moment. Sadly, he reflected, he'd loved his work more than his own relationship with his wife. They'd never had kids, both too involved in their own professional careers to give that venture much credence. They'd grown apart, gone their separate ways, and fought miserably to the end. Ayres had loved her once. She'd loved him. But some things are not meant to last. Some things were here to teach, to help people grow, and Ayres just chalked up the experience as lessons learned and wisdom gained. But still in the loneliness of isolation, a part of him always wondered if he could have done things differently. Maybe he could have. But life was full of what ifs. He'd done the best he knew how to do and ultimately he'd have to answer to himself.

He returned his attention to the warehouse around him. Nothing was really going on. Mahaben was out and about doing what blind people felt inclined to do. Fine. Ayres would just chill out, drink some more, listen to some music, and if his number was called do his part. Yeah, he'd do his part.

That was all he could do.

Tag: No One

 

IC: Tiaca
Docking Bay 7, CSA Spaceport, Shadow's Lament

Standing there in the small space that was her shipboard quarters a curtained off room that was the length of a sleeping mat that receded into the wall when not in use. Still with the cot out of the way and the mirror exposed she adjusted the tinting goggles she wore with the all white garments. After having finished her perusal of Tessor's ships database and files she had decided the quickest way in was the front door. With proper credentials from House Salaktori and data from House Renliss on who to go as she was ready, and even had their blessings, although this would push her out of bounty hunting for a while even if not caught as either House could not claim her for month and may have to officially suspend her due to who she was possibly aiding. Jeth. She never knew her savior of old would ever call up his old marker of not only saving her life, but of giving her a new one and a chance at revenge. Still for now Jeth was known and could not go to a civilized port openly without setting alarms off, so, even if they understood, they could not condone her actions.

Fixing the turban and making sure that none of the non-smudge makeup had, well in fact smudged the white fabric, she looked at her silver eyes, one a mere replacement, the other hidden by a contact lens with a simple electromagnetic filter tuned to Tessor's files indicated frequencies for specific keypads. That was when the chime sounded in her ship and she noted the forced pop-up image of the Sephi from her artificial eye. Focusing on the correct sequence of commands to open the door she came out from behind the curtain to stare at the slow opening of her door, slow to slide to the left, her left the Sephi's right halfway before swooshing with a bang the last amount. A useful setting she had appreciatively taken from a repair tip when it had been damaged during a boarding action.

"You're late and you don't have Jeth." She crossed her arms over the white near form fitting clothes that only had extra give for range of motion and shapers over her hidden scaled vest to make her body match her given marks dimensions. Giving a half heart beat to take in his altered clothes she asked, "So, should I shoot you or fill you in on the plan Sephi?"

TAG: greyjedi125