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

IC: Major Gal Lace (Strike Squadron)
Hanger, Assertor-class Star DreadnoughtDarkest Night, exiting hyperspace


Few moments in life took a veteran TIE Pilot by surprise these days; mostly, if you had survived a tour in some of the most heated combat in the Empire, then you were no stranger to death.

But it wasn't death that took him, although that was why he had been called upon this day, rather it was one of the few moments in a pilot's lifetime that you were able to still see the faint remnants of hyperspace still disappearing off of the mother ship's hull as you dropped through the shield protecting the underbelly of a Star Destroyer's hanger bay and into space beyond. Because of the rapid launch of Strike Squadron, the squadron had to be "dropped" from the hanger bay to avoid any tragic engine misfires as the Star Destroyer still decelerated from hyperspace.

For the Imperial Navy pilot, Gal watched as his TIE Interceptor---specially upgraded shielded Corellian Engineering Corps version---tumbled from the belly hanger bay. It was a moment of peace and beauty; the TIE engines lay on stand-by, but their iconic sound lay but as a quiet hum; hyperspace still scrambled communications at the immediate exit from it, so he had the otherwise garbled voices from the squadron and mother ship's communications turned low as more background noise then anything else. The blue remnants of hyperspace still faded from the hull of the Star Destroyer in the deep blackness of space. First it was the blackness of space "below," then as his TIE fumbled through space immediately below the mighty Star Destroyer---through his cockpit---he saw space replaced by the underbelly of the Star Destroyer then again replaced by space again and then a lose flotilla of pirate ships seemingly loosely formed behind three similar dagger shaped wedges of Star Destroyer designs. At that moment, as were his orders, Lace kicked in the engines and turned up the volume on his communications board.

Behind him, 11 other TIEs did the same, their fiery engines becoming mere pinpoints of light in the otherwise shadowed underbelly of the mighty star destroyer.

Above Lace, the seemingly never ending underbelly of the Darkest Night rolled past him, until finally, it broke and Gal was free of the shadow of the Star Destroyer. Even the deep darkness of space seemed light compared to the deep dark shadow cast by the Darkest Night. Moments later, others TIEs---mainly 4 squadrons of TIE Advanced x1s and a squadron of GAT-12h Skipray Blastboats---emerged next, but every moment counted and their assignment was clear: escort of the mighty Star Destroyer as they fanned out from the underbelly of the SD like fish running from a shark and coming together again in escort formation around the SD. Then, next, came the rest of the force: a full wing of TIE Advanced x1s supported by a squadron of TIE Interceptors and half a squadron of TIE Bombers. Their mission was simple: the first skirmish wave. However, their orders were simple, wait for Strike Squadron to make initial contact before engaging.

Lace had a healthy minute head start on the rest of the TIEs to their support when he keyed the mike on all open channels. Hilick Soal had personally given Gal the chance to offer the surrender to all hostile forces within Imperial boundaries.

The Empire had three objectives:

1) The Far Reach Orbital Station; they were to secure the station and prevent it's destruction and/or fall into enemy hands

2) Elimination of the enemies of the Empire

3) The destruction of the Mercs


All three objectives were clear and expected to be completed. However, objective 1 overrode objectives 2 and 3; and if Gal Lace was a betting man---which he was---he saw the battlefield clearly on his sensors already: the Mercs would become an important ally in this battle; their mere defensive position around the station would allow the Empire to focus on the exterior threats with much more ease, lessening the risk of fighting two enemies at once. And despite Hilick Soal's personal concerns with the Mercs, Gal knew the man to be a capable battlefield commander first and foremost. And if the Mercs knew what was good for them, their escape route now effectively blocked by the Darkest Night as her gravity well projectors kicked on, they too would find common ground for a short term alliance.

And while Soal could be a difficult man to deal with at times, he wasn't unreasonable on grounds of surrender and could offer the Mercs a justifiable sentence without death for their assistance with the Empire in the elimination of a common enemy between both the Mercs and the Empire.

Gal hit the all channels button;

"This is Major Gal Lace of the 157th TIE Fighter-Interceptor Squadron of the Imperial Navy; command Star Destroyer Darkest Night. All non-Imperial forces are hereby ordered to stand down and prepared to be boarded and inspected. You are engaging in illegal combat operations in sovereign Imperial territory and are hereby being ordered to put to halt such actions and surrender to the Darkest Night. Any and all actions short of full compliance with the order to surrender to Imperial forces will result in immediate destruction. Any such persons willing to assist the Empire in defending herself if so provoked into attack by non-surrendering forces could be shown mercy for their crimes against the Empire," Gal looked at his range finder on sensors to his first targets: two minutes, "You have two minutes to fully comply with the order to surrender or risk being destroyed."

Despite Gal's battlefield views, he did have a personal matter to settle with the Mercs over the near destruction of his unit several months back while fighting Rebel Alliance & Merc forces. So, personally, Gal hoped the Mercs wouldn't surrender, so he could tear them to bits with his laser cannons.

But, alas, Gal was a professional and he would follow orders, even orders to protect a sworn enemy. Then, as the saying went, cloak & dagger for a later time...


TAG ALL
OOG: I'll RP the pirates, enemy SDs, and Darkest Night forces. Sith, you get to decide what actions the Mercs do: surrender or fight.
OOG 2: I will get to other posts & tags by Friday night.

 

IC: FARP Agent Barnes, lobby area, just outside the Hangar Three-A.
Location: Far Reach Orbital Station


Barnes posted one of his men at the foot of the gold-walled escalator, and looked up half the height of the towering area above them, preparatory to leading the Mercs towards the VIP Safe Room.

"Wonder how far we'll get before we meet Lazer Brains." The Lazan still had not got used to finding his way around even just this part of the gargantuan station, which was why he was playing tour guide. If the bodyguard couldn't find his way around, the Mercs had no-

"How did you get the station here?" Their leader enquired. "Why can it not simply be moved away from the conflict in the same manner?"

The tall alien would not be able to see his frown under the hood and helmet, but he might hear it in his response. "We didn't move it! It was sitting here already, and the Organisation commandeered it a couple generations ago."

"Or am I merely asking above your paygrade again."

A couple more quiz rounds and he would be. Barnes glanced around at a tap on his shoulder, and looked where the other agent was pointing, to Lazerinian Ibarra emerging from an opening turbolift!

"Well, I'll be a son of a Hutt," he muttered in surprise.

"Barnes, I'm here." The half-dressed Laz announced, bounding his way into the lobby, bandoliers bouncing on his shoulders, then doing that thing with his long toes into the carpet.

"Yes you are."

"These the VIP escorts?

Barnes waited. He treated the question as rhetorical.

"I kinda figured there'd be more of 'em."

The FARP trooper turned to the Mercs. "One of you wanna get that?"

Tag: Bardan_Jusik; Laine_Snowtrekker; Mitth_Fisto

---

IC: Chief Cervantez, cockpit of the Vidhaftande.
Location: Far Reach Orbital Station


The OSA agent spotted Owen's reflection in ther forward port, and there was nothing stealthy about Mark III Katarn armour, so she was prepared for his company, but she wasn't expecting him to bellow into her drokking ear!

"What the brix is that?"

"That?" She nodded towards the scarlet hole before them. "That's a Red Space wormhole, generated by Kingdom of Jod FTL drives."

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Sweet Funny Aurek. Jod vessel has us in a tractor beam, and will be taking us through the wormhole to the SD."

Red light illuminated her face and the cockpit as the craft swept into the wormhole.

"We should be there in a few seconds. Probably an idea to check for space suits or breathmasks." She glanced up at the Merc. "Though that shouldn't bother you."

Tag: galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Vidhaftande, cockpit

"That?" the dark haired woman said nodding toward the opening in space, "That's a Red Space wormhole, generated by Kingdom of Jod FTL drives."

She spoke words, Red Space wormhole, kingdom of Jod, they meant nothing to him nor did it explain what exactly was going on. The one phrase he was able to recognize is FTL, Faster Than Light. It was a hyperspace of some kind but, something about it turned his stomach, well more than normal space flight.

"Sweet Funny Aurek." Cervantes replied to his question about her current actions, "Jod vessel has us in a tractor beam, and will be taking us through the wormhole to the SD." Owen's fingers dug deeper into the chair as red light washed over him. Under the helmet he closed his eyes and turned away. "We should be there in a few seconds." While the rational part of the soldiers brain was telling him that it would all be ok, that the leader wasn't afraid that he shouldn't be either. However the primal part, the hidden part, was scared. It was the fear of the unknown, something he's learned to suppress but, engulfed in an energy he didn't understand, and in a place where he had no sloid footing, that part of him was terrified. " Probably an idea to check for space suits or breathmasks."

He snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned his gaze away from the viewport. Now was a perfect time to ask that, just as they were seconds away from stepping on a ship that has no power and most likely no atmosphere. This mission was getting worse all the time.

"Were should I start looking Mam'?" He grumbled, fighting back his nausea, and his annoyance. He was already too far into this mission to turn back now but, at this moment he wanted to be out of that cockpit and somewhere else.

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

OOG: @Sith-I-5...

For the Death Sphere, you can assume the torpedoes are starting to "vent" atmosphere inside; however, in the throws of most certain death before reaching its target, the Death Sphere is starting to accelerate towards the space station, intent on ramming it in a suicide run. You may assume, in light of certain death, the passengers of the Death Sphere may start resulting to likewise attempts and overcharge or orload weapon systems with them to enhance the chance of a successful suicide run at the station.

You may also assume Sith that upwards to at least 3 additional torpedoes hits would end the Death Sphere's suicide run.

---

IC: Oscar Chills
Exiting hyperspace near outskirts of Florn; Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruiser Father & Son


As expected, the Star Destroyer started to bring its hulk to face action.

Oscar kicked himself mentally.

If he had wanted to fight the Empire here, he had a bloody good chance of dealing a solid blow to that destroyer in the rear before she could bring her superior firepower to bear. While it wouldn't of evened the odds, it would at least had given him a snow ball's chance in hell. Which was better then no chance at all.

"Captain!" barked the communications technician.

"It's Admiral!" cited the sensors officer.

"Technically, he's still the captain of this boat, so my rank identification is valid!" replied the communications man.

"Technically, he's a Admiral! So you have to address him as such while we are part of this operation!" barked back the sensors man.

"Really?!" said communications, "Well since you're so academically smarter then everyone else here, for us being pirates and all I mean, maybe you can---"

"Shove it!" Tak finally barked, "Title don't mean anything! He's still your two's bloody Captain or you'd be risking the air lock for sure mates if you don't think as such!"

Oscar pointed out the viewport, "Why in Corellian Nine Hells is the Interceptor-class still going towards the Star Destroyer?"

"Well, you see Captain, I was going to tell you that, until our resident professor opened his big fat mouth!" the communications man said, "The Interceptor is refusing orders. I guess her Captain had a bad run-in with that particular Star Destroyer about a year ago. And the Captain and crew are seeking revenge."

"By her speed & direction, she's going for their bridge, Admiral," spoke the sensors man.

Oscar rolled his eyes; he had modified Father & Son slightly, without reducing her firepower, in the terms of adding a single squadron of TIE Fighters equipped with shields. Their standard TIE color with gold-colored wings had become the hallmark of Oscar's feared "Captain's Guard". They were loyal to Oscar alone; their reputation was one of unparalleled skill & brutality in combat. For being "pirates," they were some of the most feared & respected pilots in the pirate circles and were known to take on Imperial TIEs and best them routinely in combat. Beyond his TIEs, he had two GAT-12 Skipray Blastboats and a single Sentinel-class Landing Craft for his personal use.

Despite his faith in his Captain's Guard, he wasn't about to sacrifice them to the wolves. It would serve no purpose.

"Captain, the Interceptor is being joined by the Starrunner!"

"Captain!" barked Tak, "That Starrunner is one of ours! She's betrayed us!"

"Both ships have weapons armed, Admiral! They do have one clear shot before the Star Destroyer completes her turn!"

"Pirates," Oscar send with a smile, "To the end mates!"

The Father & Son shook suddenly from the rear as if they were plowed down by a flying mountain!

"We're hit!" barked sensors, "Concussion missiles & turbolasers!"

"Shield generator is down!" barked damage control, "They knew right where to hit us!"

"Battle stations!" Oscar barked, "Source of enemy fire?"

"Our very own CR90 has turned on us! The Lighter has joined them as well!"

"Argh!" barked Tak in anger, going for the weapons station "Mutineers!"

"Hold your fire, Tak!" Oscar ordered.

"Aye, Captain! To the death be our lot then on such an order!" Tak replied, holding his fire.

"Communication coming in from the CR90!"

"Put it on!" Oscar ordered.

Suddenly the bridge was filled with the captain of the CR90's voice, "SURRENDER OSCAR!"

Oscar didn't miss a beat as he smiled.

"The Interceptor, Starrunner, and Lighter shadowing the Star Destroyer's turn! They are attempting to stay in their rear! Engagement range in a minute and a half!"

"Manners," Oscar said with a smile, "One of my very own trusted Lieutenants!"

"You're outgunned, mate. I got your shield generator. There be no point in fighting for a quick death, mate. Surrender and I'll spare ye crew!" spoke Lieutenant Manners.

"If you have turned on me, Manners, then who else has?"

"Aye, we be but humble pirates, Captain. Some of us wanted a new Captain. We be getting too big and ye profits are sharing too much. Not savy for we pockets, if you get my understanding mate. They be no returning for ya, Captain. But if you did, you'd see not yourself as our Captain."

Oscar nodded, "As you see it, Manners. But just remember," the Captain smiled, holding up a remote control, "I be Pirate Captain Oscar Chills. And there only be one of me, mate. And none the other better then me."

Manners' eye went wide, "What be that, Oscar!? I assure you, we can come to an understanding that---"

Manners was never able to finish his sentence as the CR90 blew apart from the inside, her fiery debris and remnants gases expanding into the blackness of space.

Oscar looked down from his seat, "Tak, train guns on that Lighter. Follow her fuel leak and exploit it! Work with sensors!" then the Captain turned to Communications, "Broadcast to the Star Destroyer our forged papers---for the money we paid for them, they best be good! Inform them that we are engaging hostile targets of the Lighter and CR90 to their rear and deploying a TIE squadron and Skiprays in support of that objective. Hanger control, deploy our TIEs and Skiprays! Tell them to engage that CR90!"

"Aye Captain! Deploying TIEs and Skipray!" replied the hanger control officer.

"Helm, full speed ahead! Position us in a manner that boxes these traitors in! No mercy gentlemen! No quarter! To the black flag is their fate today!"

"ARGH!!!!!" yelled the bridge crew in union.

Oscar watched as Tak's turbolaser fire started tracking the fuel leak in outer space.

"They got shields up!" Tak complained as his turbolaser fire had tracked the fuel leak in space, but now was being buffered by powerful shields.

Below the Father & Son, 12 TIEs and 3 Skipray Blastboats flew under the bow of the ship and out towards the distant CR90.

Oscar had equipped the Father & Son with several proton torpedoes & concussion missiles for such reasons, although he only reserved them for last ditch circumstances, "Firing concussion missiles!" Oscar barked and watched three concussion missiles fly out, Tak's turbolaser fire adjusting to cover their flight path. Soon, the Lighter's shields were down and Tak's turbolaser fire tracked the fuel link again and light a match to a gasoline can trail, the turbolaser fire followed the trail and once it hit the first drops of oxygen linking out of the ship by the fuel link, a brilliant flame lit up in space and seemed to be sucked right into the Lighter. Tak held his fire as suddenly the rear end of the Lighter buckled and cracked under a fiery explosion.

"The Lighter is sending out a distress signal----oh by my mother's grave!" said the communications officer as he watched the further demise of the ship, as flame rolled through the ship from the rear, exploding ammo and igniting other systems. Like a serirs of firecrackers set along a rope, the Lighter suffered another series of explosions forward of the initial hit before, finally, she seemed to crumple up like a piece of paper before exploding finally in a final explosion.

"Why did they fight?" Tak asked as he looked back, "That's an Imperial Star Destroyer! They had no chance!"

"I ensured that Lieutenant Manners had a copy of our same Imperial Center ship rescue docs," Oscar replied, "I knew he was a traitor. I just needed to find the button to push. And I know the rest of the traitors back at the base too, now, that my theory held out. I just needed to downsize, cut the fat as they say. And this was the best way to find out who to cut. He waited for months---then took his shot. I was hoping he wouldn't turn after waiting so long, but I had my thoughts and they turned out to be true. If he was thinking like me, he was going to use our the copied docs to save his own skin after destroying us and sacrificing the other 3 ships. His plan was to stop the attack after it came out we forced the others to attack the Imperials, a course, he would come to their aid a bit too late. I had his reactor core rigged before we launched months ago. I held his life in my hands and he never even knew it."

"Humans---a complex species," Tak replied.

"No," Oscar said as his TIEs started attacked the CR90, "Just a bunch of idiots. When we get back home to our base, we'll have to clean house."

"Assuming the Empire lets us free," Tak replied, "We are wanted men by the Imperial Navy."

"They will," Oscar said, "I have an offer they can't refuse."


TAG Sith-I-5
OOG: I will get to other posts tomorrow night (Monday) as planned. I was catching up for Friday's post.

 

OOG: I didn't get a response from Tim Battershell, so I am going to gently move forward so I don't violate his player/character rights too dramatically.

Laine_Snowtrekker, are you RPing Edge? I didn't see a response to the tag from May 17, 2016 at 9:58 PM either, so please forgive any unintended ops on my end.

---

IC: OSA Halla
Hangar Level B-One, Far Reach Orbital Station


The turbolift rose upwards, after Edge had reengaged the controls; Edge;s voice could be heard over each member's ear piece communication device as the Merc directed them level by level with necessary updates to whatever was happening above them. So far, Edge had been able to hack level by level clearance to keep the turbolift moving, then was slowing regaining independent control of security features in the area. So far, no Death Spheres had breached the station's outer hull which---at the moment---was heir one silver lining in this whole situation.

Snake's company turned out to be dryer then Tatooine---the ex-soldier turned hero still hadn't quite grasped the whole understanding of sharing a conversation before you died. Instead, he looked focused.

Too focused.

Halla rolled her eyes behind her black sunglasses. Why did super elite military soldier types always have to be Alpha-male air heads? Didn't they learn to socialize by picking up the cheerleaders at football games when they were varsity football players? Or were teenagers at that young age so focused on the one night stands that socialization was not required?

Dragon didn't help Snake's case---well, correction, he was the opposite. For being a large man, the "last line of defense" was singing quietly to himself. And he was singing, Singing in the Rain.

Halla tried to ignore the fact that their bastion of hope---this strong muscular man who could put the world on his shoulders---was actually singing before what could very well be his soon-to-be death. She was half expecting him to start trimming his nails as well as their long turbolift ride continued.

Lor Maker was a relief.

"So," Lor said as he popped in a piece of bubble gum, "Who gets to the big guy first."

"Nails and hair on me," Halla said, readjusting the shoulder strap across her body on her E-11 Blaster Rifle as part of her Heavy Load Out as she checked the carbine, "For the kill."

"One step further," Lor, "Relaxing cruise on the Corellian seas with topless male servants. You know, a girl can't resist those over confident college boys who spend their life in the gym to impress working women like myself as a summer job. May even make them work for their tips."

Halla smiled ever-so sweetly, "I like the sound of that. Tell me, how does it make you feel when you make 'em work for it---just to turn them down as a tease."

Lor smiled, "Boys need to learn their place when it comes to a girl like me," Lor popped her bubble gum bubble at that moment.

Then the turbolift doors opened.

"Show time boys and girls," Halla said as they walked out of the turbolift.


*********


As they walked out of the turbolift, Halla was greeted by an additional OSA with a squad of 8 FARPs behind him; like her previous comrade with a squad behind him----who she had sent to the hanger shortly before---she had summoned her other partner from otherwise routine patrol duty throughout the corridors, reducing both partners' staffing on patrols from 16 to 8, redirecting half of their elements to the more critical area of the hanger. With the classified coating on the hull, The Organization's risks of having random enemy units within the station without the ability to focus a response force was smaller and hence, in Halla's eyes, allowed her to redeploy her sector forces as she saw fit.

She glanced at her wrist watch.

13 minutes.

Then looked up at the other OSA, "Take your forces to hanger, link up with the other half of our team. Defend the hanger. We'll see you there shortly."

The other OSA simply nodded and silently motioned his FARPs to follow him through the now opening blast doors and to the hanger beyond.

On the interior of the core systems they were all trying to protect, Halla looked to Dragon, whom she would be leaving behind with another OSA member not associated with her immediate team and two FARPs; the two FARPs were already in defensive positions around the turbolifts and blast doors leading to the hanger bay, the OSA standing there in the middle looking like a person you didn't want to mess with as he checked his E-11 blaster rifle briefly before turning his attention back to Halla and the new arrivals.

"Remember, Dragon, last line of defense. Don't break."

The large man nodded quietly, then Halla shared a brief look with the lone OSA before leading the rest of them through the blast door that now closed behind them.

As the blast doors closed & locked behind them, Halla looked at the other 8 FARPs on this side of the blast door already in defensive positions along the long corridor; the single OSA with his E-11 Blaster Rifle likewise stood like a man not to be messed with in the middle of the corridor.

This was their last sizeable defense before the core elements behind them that they were desperately trying to defend. And while Halla wanted to leave more of a defense here, she knew that all available resources needed to be positioned as a first line of defense, not a last line of defense, when going up against a Cimmerian Hell Rider.

She simply nodded to the OSA, then moved on, marching towards the hanger bay; a single blast door stood between them and the hanger bay and two additional OSAs flanked the door as sentries by it with E-11s; as the blast doors opened, for FARPs stood sentry (the 4 that had passed them on the way down originally) by 2's on either side of the blast door.

As Halla and company entered the hanger bay, she noted two OSAs manning the E-Webs on either extreme side of the hanger bay, pointed at an angel in, and giving both emplacements a wide covering berth of fire for any incoming enemies.

Then, behind various crates and other objects used as defense, awaited 12 FARPs (of 16) and two OSAs. This whole defense force, while overkill for any other situation, was vastly undermanned and under-gunned for this situation.

She glanced backwards, where the last four FARPs had taken superior height positions to provide overhead fire from a work catwalk above; Halla tapped Snake on the shoulder and nodded upwards.

"Take the catwalk. Give us covering fire."

Snake simply nodded and was gone, climbing up the nearest ladder.

"So," Lor Maker said loudly as she cracked her neck and then her knuckles, "Where's this beastie at? I want some topless over-confident college boys serving me a drink on a cruise ship on the ocean!"

The hanger bay seemed to creak and buckle under sudden strain, like being in a soda can that was being crushed by a hand from the outside, then it suddenly stopped.

"Here," Halla said matter-of-factly as she keyed her wrist com, "All forces, this is OSA Halla. Defensive force for the Computerized Stabilization Gate Way Station. We have Cimmerian Hell Rider contact. One of three expected sightings. Gate Way Station clear of comm traffic, engaging enemy target."

"Where," Lor Maker barked impatiently.

"There," Halla said calmly as she raised her blaster rifle as a metal hand seemed to appear through watery thin air and up and lift a FARP by the neck with a single hand, cracking the struggling man's neck with little effort.

Even as blaster fire started to rake the area, the FARP's body was dropped to the floor and the Hell Rider's body was gone through the worm hole, appearing just moments later on the other side of the hanger bay, its full body stepping through the worm hole and leaving the OSA gunner dead and E-Web a smoking crumbled ruin with a lightening quick attack. As blaster fire raked that way, even a few blaster bolts seemingly to score a hit or to before the being disappeared into the worm hole again, the Hell Rider was gone all the same, this time appearing in another area of the defenses, striking down two FARPs by a crate with his sword, before disappearing again into thin air.

"You said you defeated these things before, right?" Lor asked somewhat nervously, as her eyes danced across the hanger bay, looking for the Hell Rider's next appearance.

Halla nodded, "Yes."

"Well," Lor said, "How did you do it?"

"We blew the station up," Halla answered, "With that thing still on it."

"You mean you never actually shot it dead!?" Lor barked in panic.

Halla shook her head no.

"Emperor's Dark Bones!" Lor breathed, "The bet just went up from topless college men to topless bodybuilder men!" Lor swallowed her old gum and put some new gum in her mouth and added as she chewed, "Wearing only leafs to cover those secret man parts!"


TAG Tim Battershell, Laine_Snowtrekker (I think), Sith-I-5 (Halla comm traffic, etc.)
OOG: I will RP the Hell Rider as needed for damage, reactions, etc.

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Space Station outside Hanger 3-A, Lobby

So they had commandeered it during the days of the Old Republic, the days that which now fell into either a code of silence, disrespect, belligerent propaganda chatter, or fanatical adoration per the Rebels. Never mind the whole thing had crashed to the ground in a brilliant war development bid before the Empire became the warlords supremacy plan in the galaxy. He didn't comment on this, but rather left it as it was. No need to pick further at the man. At least he thought so until a turbolift opened and disgorged a heavily weaponized beast.

With a deep sigh Havah stared at the man thing that approached. Species was new to him, but whatever it was it didn't matter because nobody was taking aim to kill the thing nor looked too shell shocked to respond so his first fear of a Beast was unfounded. Although what passed for a response from one detail to another was mortifying at best.

"Well, I'll be a son of a Hutt," the FARP agent muttered in surprise. Not the most reassuring thing, but it definitely got the point of nothing to dread across.

"Barnes, I'm here." The half-dressed thing announced, with a rather odd roll popping motion of its body on digitigrade legs making its way into the lobby, bandoleers jingling on its shoulders, then it started doing that thing with his long toes into the carpet. Havah had to swallow a retort that thing could talk, honestly.

"Yes you are."

"These the VIP escorts?

Barnes waited. He treated the question as rhetorical. And so did Havah.

"I kinda figured there'd be more of 'em."

The FARP trooper turned to the Mercs. "One of you wanna get that?"

Leaning out to the side as though trying to see past the thing, he casually looked up at it. "Are you the only VIP or did you eat them? I was expecting more." he calmly replied.

TAG: Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik, Laine_Snowtrekker

 

OOC: ALL channels?



IC: Rafa Lead (ARC-170 pilot), Pilot Officer Havoc Neb and Mary Formal, FARP Agent Barnes, Crewpersons Keaner and Allisette, OSA Chief Cervantes, FROS Director Peligro Raton, , Various locations within the combat theatre
Location: Florn system


Though he had no idea of the enemy vessel’s name, Rafa Lead traded shots with the hull gunners of the Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer Civilisation as he and his surviving squad-mates flew up the sloping upper hull.

"This is Major Gal Lace of the 157th TIE Fighter-Interceptor Squadron of the Imperial Navy;-” came over his commo board, a little too loudly for his little cockpit. The Jod squad leader hastily turned the volume down and wondered if this battle could get any worse.

“This fight is getting more sides than a, than a…than a many-sided thing.” He finished lamely, looking away from a bright burst of light as his defensive shields parried a laser blast too close to his canopy.

* * * *
TL-1800 cockpit

Neb and Formal exchanged concerned glances at the unexpected transmission from the Empire of all people:

"- command Star Destroyer Darkest Night. All non-Imperial forces are hereby ordered to stand down-”

“Yeah, that’s going to happen,” the Sullustan jibed, both to reassure himself, and to show a brave front to the rookie Merc sitting alongside him. “it isn’t a Merc’ operation if the Empire does not interfere somehow.”

“H-how do they keep finding me?” Mary stammered, her heart pounding at the implied Imperial threat. This was starting to feel personal. Flitter, an Alliance safe world, Port Haven, Craci, which was supposed to be in the Corporate Sector, for Florn’s sake!

“You?” Havoc chuckled. “You humans need to get over yourselves. The galaxy does not revolve around your people.” He nodded to the control board. “The DD will have heard that too. Orders will be forthcoming, and if they don’t we continue as before.”

* * * *
Far Reach Orbital Station, lobby area, just outside Hangar Three-A.

Barnes smiled broadly at the Arkanian’s retort to Lazarian’s query, an expression that froze under the black material covering his mouth and nose, as an unexpected transmission came through his wrist comlink, echoed by those carried by his two cohorts: "-and prepared to be boarded and inspected. You are engaging in illegal combat operations in-”

“Ooh, we’ve been rumbled!” He blurted in faux fear.

* * * *
Open circuit panel, FROS Station

Standing close to the kneeling Edge, Ke’aner was not overly pleased to hear the warning coming over the Merc’s comlink.

“If the Empire thinks they are imprisoning me a second time, they better they better think again.” The Noghri snarled to her human counterpart.

Allisette raised her eyebrows at her friend. “I haven’t seen you that dismayed since that soap dispenser in the fresher squirted all over you.”

Ke’aner took one huge grey paw off the repeating blaster’s barrel. “How could it miss these hands? What, did they send it to the Stormtrooper Marksmanship Academy?”

* * * *
Corellian light freighter Vidhaftande

Cervantez was relieved to see the blue-black-grey hole opening up before them at the end of the scarlet tunnel.

"Where should I start looking Ma'am?" The Merc asked.

Almost immediately, the tunnel was swept back overhead as the ship emerged in Real Space once again, hurtling towards a wall of grey metal and darkened windows, the tapered bow of an Imperial Star Destroyer!

She threw up an arm as if that would help, then slowly released a breath, realising she was still alive and they had not collided.

"Any and all actions short of full compliance with the order to surrender to Imperial forces will result in immediate destruction.” burst from the communications panel.

It was immediately followed by a transmission from the Jod ship that had brought them here.
"Chief Cervantez? Captain Jenkins from the House of Vimal. We have arrived in the sensor shadow of the stranded destroyer, so hopefully that new ImpStar and other craft cannot see us, though we expect they detected the Red Space reversion. We'll detach tractor beam in a sec, and if you proceed under the ISD's belly, you should be able to get inside undetected. If you do not proceed, after a few moments, we'll re-engage the tractor and try to take you back to the station."

"Copy that, House of Vimal." She acknowledged, the authorative but relaxed tone of the speaker serving to calm her own nerves.

The scene ahead shifted up and banked as the craft nosed down slightly, and she could feel in her tummy that they tractor had released them.

She closed her fingers around the levers that would push them out from under the Jod vessel and towards the apparently abandoned and unpowered Imperial vessel.

She glanced back up to Byrne, still facing back out of the cockpit, and awaiting her answer about the vacsuits.
She ignored that and instead asked her own query: "So, whadja think? Proceed with the mission, or get them to take us back?"

* * * *
Far Reach Orbital Station - station control

Director Raton had his arms crossed as he listened to the updates from the friehgter and shuttle crews.

They had circa ninety refugees aboard the Delicate Delinquent now, soon to be a hundred; and along with the people taken by the Rebel Alliance blockade runner earlier, that would be a fifth of the station's complement.

"Uh Director?" The Cathar nodded towards the screen focussed on the two ImpStars sitting at the system edge, in a quiet area far removed from the chaos around the station. "New signals. A handful of ships not broadcasting telesponders-"

"Pirates then." Raton decided. "Wondered when those drokkers would turn up."

"-and dreadnaught of some variety."

"This is Major Gal Lace of the 157th TIE Fighter-Interceptor Squadron of the Imperial Navy; command Star Destroyer Darkest Night. All non-Imperial forces are hereby ordered to stand down and prepared to be boarded and inspected. You are engaging in illegal combat operations in sovereign Imperial territory and are hereby being ordered to put to halt such actions and surrender to the Darkest Night. Any and all actions short of full compliance with the order to surrender to Imperial forces will result in immediate destruction. Any such persons willing to assist the Empire in defending herself if so provoked into attack by non-surrendering forces could be shown mercy for their crimes against the Empire,"

"Patch me through to the Mercs, this all hinges on what they decide to do."

Tag: galactic-vagabond422, Laine_Snowtrekker, Bardan_Jusik, Mitth_Fisto, Bravo

---

IC: Commander Yavscout, Dak, Aurora Cradmoon, Mobile Command Base, TIE Hangar, Delicate Delinquent
Location: under the FROS station, Florn system


The elf had already arranged to be in contact with all commands to coordinate the initial push to put a team onto that abandoned Star Destroyer, so now several of his screens were showing the commodore, captains and commanders of the Jod capital ships, Director Raton aboard the Far Reach station, and Bridge Officer Bob up on, well, the bridge.

"This is Major Gal Lace of the 157th TIE Fighter-Interceptor Squadron of the Imperial Navy; command Star Destroyer Darkest Night. All non-Imperial forces are hereby ordered to stand down and prepared to be boarded and inspected."

"He's awfully confident for someone operating out of an ImpStar." Yav noted aloud, exchanging glances with Dak beside him. "Are they by themselves?"

"Th-that is-is no-not an ImpStar." Captain Jenkins of the House of Vimal seemed to stammer.

"Sure it is. The Mercs have encountered the Darkest Night before, back when we liberated prisoners from a deep space prison facility. Between us and your King-class battleships, we ****** it up, but you should still be able to see the lines." Yavscout relaxed back in his chair, hands clasped hehind his head. Compared to the initial invading and seige fleet, the threats of one ballsy Imperial officer was of little concern. "Besides, we all saw the ImpStar revert behind to the spacewrecked version that you are headed to."

"H-headed to a-and r-reached. Th-that second ImpStar is still here. But an Assertor-class dreadnaught has dropped in behind it. We are hidden from the ImpStar's sensors, and besides, it has other problems to deal with, but Darkest Night jumped in on a different vector; it might know that we are here."

"You have two minutes to fully comply with the order to surrender or risk being destroyed." Major Lace finished, timely enough to empathise Jenkins' update.

"Two minutes?" The elf echoed after a moment to absorb the new information, not transmitting to the Imperial, but talking only to his current peers. "That's not even time to cut the voting straws"

"Dammit, this is serious!" Commodore Aching, aboard the Valor, shot back.

Staring up at the screen, Yav glared the woman into silence. "We wouldn't be in this mess if you had started evacuating people before we got here, Commodore."

"Those were not the orders from Commodore Stakes!"

"He's there, wherever there is; you're here. You never learned the concept of making command decision?"

"How about you make one, Commander Yavscout." Director Raton interrupted sternly. "Are the Mercs going to cut and run from this?"

The elf chuckled sarcastically, and looked as if the Corellian had asked a stupid question. "Now that I know an Assertor is here, drokk, yes!"

Raton's face darkened. "Typ-"

"But not just yet."

"-ical." Raton did a visible double-take. "Sorry, what?"

Yav ignored him. "Bob, how many Star Destroyers us under seige."

"Twenty-four. Although about half are turning away to face the Empire."

"Those twenty-four are the buffer between ourselves and the Darkest Night. When it's down to nine, I am recalling all Merc assets, and we are booking. Director, accelerate your evacuations. Commodore, keep your ships intact. We'll need your Red Space to get clear."

He glanced across to Dak, "We'll have to update Green and Red Leaders, because they will likely have heard Lace's transmission too."

Tag: Bravo, only if transmitting on all channels, means Lace can listen in on all channels too.

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Vidhaftande, cockpit

As Owen ended his question, the wormhole opened again throwing the craft out of it. The Star Destroyer with darkened windows seemed to accelerate towards them. Cervantes threw her arm up in front for herself and Owen braced himself against the pilot's chair, fighting his urge to put his body between the dark haired woman and the viewport. It would have done no good, other than possibly get him killed before her.

The light freighter came to a stop well away from the triangular vessel. As the comm burst with a message,

"This is Major Gal Lace of the 157th TIE Fighter-Interceptor Squadron of the Imperial Navy; command Star Destroyer Darkest Night." Owen rolled his eyes just great, this was supposed to be an abandoned ship, "All non-Imperial forces are hereby ordered to stand down and prepared to be boarded and inspected." Well that left only a few options get on the disabled Star Destroyer, or flee. The major continued demanding that all combatants lay down arms. "Any such persons willing to assist the Empire in defending herself if so provoked into attack by non-surrendering forces could be shown mercy for their crimes against the Empire,"

Subtlety, Owen's hand moved closer to his sidearm. An Imperial pardon, a valuable thing, especially for a Stormtrooper wanted for desertion but, as well every person on this ship. He didn't know these people didn't know their pasts, things they might want to put behind them, or want the Empire off their back. He eyed the pilot suspiciously as a new voice broke over the comm,

"Chief Cervantez? Captain Jenkins from the House of Vimal. We have arrived in the sensor shadow of the stranded destroyer, so hopefully that new ImpStar and other craft cannot see us, though we expect they detected the Red Space reversion." So they're presence has already been noted, truly this mission was the worst he'd ever participated in. "We'll detach tractor beam in a sec, and if you proceed under the ISD's belly, you should be able to get inside undetected. If you do not proceed, after a few moments, we'll re-engage the tractor and try to take you back to the station." There were their choices, stay and complete the mission, or flee.

"Copy that, House of Vimal." Cervantes replied, finding her voice again. "So, whadja think?" she asked looking up at him, hands at the controls, and he keeping his gaze away from the viewport. "Proceed with the mission, or get them to take us back?"

What in all the nine Corellian hells did he know, and why was she asking him, she was the commander she makes that call not him. He's just the grunt.

"Make your own damn decision." He snapped. This mission had been a mess from the start but, there was still light, still a possibility that he could see. "If you want to flee then we flee, you want to stay we stay. You're the person handing out the checks, you’re the one in command, frakking act like it." He took a moment to breathe, then continued, "But if you're looking for my advice, either one is fine, if we get on board and power things down, that Major won't even know we are there. On the other hand, once we are there, we don't know how long he's going to stick around, and if we can exfil without arousing suspicion. If we flee we avoid all chance of conflict, at least at this moment, and lose any chance of completing this mission." He paused again returning his gaze to her, "So Chief you have to ask yourself, is this mission worth seriously risking your life and the lives of those with you?" He may have had his own preference but, in the end it was the client that made that decision, and if they went the other way, he had a plan.

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Swifts
VIP Babysitting Team, Lobby, Far Reach

A being ambled-shambled its way across the carpet toward them. She'd never seen a being quite like this one before. But he looked intimidating--and then he started talking. Could be a tactic like Snake's, talk to get people off-guard.

"I kinda figured there'd be more of 'em."

Barnes turned to them. "One of you wanna get that?"

The Major leaned to the side, looked past the being, then casually looked up at it. "Are you the only VIP or did you eat them? I was expecting more," he calmly replied.

Swifts snickered, probably more loudly than was professional. But part of her wanted to get on up to where the VIPs were and escort them down. The sooner the better, because something didn't feel right--

"-and prepared to be boarded and inspected. You are engaging in illegal combat operations in-”

The Empire was here? While Swifts had expected that they would eventually have in a run-in with Imperials, she hadn't expected it so soon after joining. Then again, she scolded herself, she hadn't really known what she was expecting when it came to being a Merc and being with the Mercs. A sliver of fear ran through her. They could run, of course, but then the mission wouldn't get completed, and they were protecting people. Weren't they? What was this about combat operations? Did the Imperials mean the ships outside and those slow-moving spheres that gave Swifts a sick feeling deep in her gut? I have such a bad feeling about this...

“Ooh, we’ve been rumbled!”

She glanced sharply at the trooper. Barnes' words were fearful but his tone was not. She couldn't quite place the tone, though. Was it playful? Sarcastic? Ironic? Gallows humor? Without being able to see his face she was at a slight disadvantage with someone she didn't know.

"Were you expecting the Empire to show up?" Swifts asked, hoping that the Major wouldn't think she was out of line. "If so, why wasn't it in our briefing?"

They could run, yes, but unless she was ordered to do so, she was gonna stay right where she was asked to be and get the job done.

TAG: Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Atin Taab/ Lazerinian "Laz" Ibarra (NPC)
Lobby outside Hanger A-3, Far Reach Station, Florn System.

"Are you the only VIP or did you eat them? I was expecting more."

His face hidden behind his face plate Atin bit his lip to avoid laughing at Major Jeth's response to...Lazarian? Atin was pretty sure that's what they had called him...it. Whatever it was, the alien with the gravelly voice almost seemed to smile at the Major's retort, as if he (Atin was pretty sure it was a he) enjoyed it. Lazarian opened his mouth to reply but was drowned out as a message came through across everyone's comm units.

The message blared out in Atin's buy'ce (helemt) deafening him. He thought he had turned the gain down, but the message had been sent blaring across all frequencies with not an inconsiderable amount of power behind it. A quick adjustment brought down the volume, though now incoming comms from short range devices would be barely above a whisper.

“Ooh, we’ve been rumbled!” Barnes blurted out, clearly mocking the Imperial message. Lazarian though didn't seem as amused, in fact he had gone ramrod straight at the mention of the Imperial Navy, his pending riposte to Major Jeth seemingly forgotten. "Imperial mercy," he seemed to be muttering to himself despairingly, caught up on the last portion of the message.

"Were you expecting the Empire to show up?" Swifts asked, causing Lazarian to fidget slightly. It was clear to everyone that even mentioning the Empire was extremely worrisome to the creature. "If so, why wasn't it in our briefing?" A good question, Atin thought, but it could have been asked of nearly anything in their "briefing". Before Barnes could reply Atin piped up.

"Doesn't matter now, we've got a job to do right?" He looked back and forth between the Mercs and caught Lazarian looking at him quizzically. Atin shrugged nonchalantly "We've taken on the Imps before, not a problem." Lazarian's mouth went agape, though Atin didn't know if it was a result of the Mandalorian's false bravado, or the mention of taking on the Empire. "So let's get to it."

TAG: Sith-I-5, Laine_Snowtrekker, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: OSA Guard, Jod trooper, Chief Cervantez, light freighter Vidhaftande
Locations: Edge of the Florn system


The OSA man that the huge, imposing Mark III Katarn outfit had threatened, shuddered from the experience, staring into space beside the alcove with the open bar, shaking hands pouring a strongly odoured, tan-coloured liquid into a glass and downing it in one gulp, letting the liquid burn his throat and infuse his body with its calming warmth.

"He said not to drink, Stupid." The Jod chided, moistening his lips with his tongue.

"Huh?" The Cortellian's eyes slowly returned to focus, and he gazed at his new ally, then on the empty glass in his hand. "Well dammit, I guess we can call that threat counter-productive then."

"I guess so." The Jod rolled his eyes.

* * * *

Meanwhile, in the cockpit, the Chief's attempt to defer to another as to their course of action, was thrown back at her.

"Make your own damn decision." Owen snapped. "If you want to flee then we flee, you want to stay we stay. You're the person handing out the checks, you’re the one in command, frakking act like it..........But if you're looking for my advice, either one is fine, if we get on board and power things down, that Major won't even know we are there. On the other hand, once we are there, we don't know how long he's going to stick around, and if we can exfil without arousing suspicion. If we flee we avoid all chance of conflict, at least at this moment, and lose any chance of completing this mission." He paused again returning his gaze to her, as she cowed away as far as her armrest allowed, and wondered what in Fornax 'exfil' meant.

"So Chief you have to ask yourself, is this mission worth seriously risking your life and the lives of those with you?"

She reluctantly half-straightened in the chair, pressing the acceleration levers forwards a smidge, "I don't have to ask myself anything, Merc. We're going in."

The freighter nosed under the Star Destroyer's slanted underside, and within seconds, they were passing under the huge inverted dome that was the SD's solar ionisation reactor, and heading for the square-cut aperture aft that should take them up to the Main and TIE Hangars, bigger cousins of those aboard the DD.

She leaned closer to the controls, gaze flickering over the multi-coloured lights. "I ought to be able to get a read on that shield, up or down." She sighed. "Oh well, here goes oblivyn!" Her last word was Old Corellian for "nothing".

She nosed the freighter up into the square hole, twin lights on the front of the YV-560 casting overlapping white illuminations over the shadowed metal ceiling above them as they ascended into the capital ship's innards.

The curved fingers of a claw that could grip a corvette-sized starship, cast an ominous shadow that moved as they did.

Tag: galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Vidhaftande, cockpit

The chief straightened in her chair finding some determination. Owen kept his eyes off the front as it accelerated forward. The queasy feeling already building in his stomach. "I don't have to ask myself anything, Merc. We're going in."

"Good," The soldier replied with a nod, "I'll go scrounge up some breath masks." He walked out of the cockpit, his heavy boots clacking against the deck. He saw the two men in suits one of them holding an empty glass in their hands. He hissed through his teeth coming closer to them. Behind the two men a faint light glowed. Getting closer it seemed to be a storage place for the inebriants. The slight acrid smell of alcohol twitched Owen's nose. He put a firm hand on the man with the glass's shoulder. "What did I say?" His voice was low he head craned down to look the man in the eye. "You drink you stay." He threw a glance over his shoulder, he could tell Chief Cervantes later. This had to be dealt with now.

He muscled his way to the cabinet picking up one of the three bottles that were in there. "Hm…" He looked as though he was admiring the glass, the craftsmanship, then he let go. It shattered on the deck leaving shards of glass and amber liquid all over the place. "Oops," he growled, as he took up the next bottle, again he looked it over, then casually tossed it over his shoulder, hearing it break against a wall. "I'm sorry, it just slipped." He continued in a mocking tone. He took the third and final container, this time he didn't even take the time to look it over he just dropped it on the floor getting a satisfying crunch when it hit, spilling its contents on the deck. "I'm just all thumbs today." he crushed the some of the fragments of the one whole bottles under his boot, "Let me clean this up," he cocked his head at the two, "could you tell me where I might find a mop and broom, and possibly some breathmasks?"

If this man was staying behind to watch the ship, the Merc was going to do everything in his power to make sure he was sober. The last thing he wanted was an unreliable exit strategy.

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: FARP Agent Barnes, lobby area, Far Reach Orbital Station
Locations: Florn


Barnes snapped his head around at the accusatory tone of the young girl.

"Were you expecting the Empire to show up? If so, why wasn't it in our briefing?"

He looked at her. "If you were in any way self aware as a kid, you might one day have thought that there would one day be a time that you would be too old to do something, skipping synthrope with the other girls, something like that. The Empire coming was like that; we knew they would find us one day, but after the first couple of decades, we quit worrying about it." He paused. "Sorry it wasn't in your briefing."

"Doesn't matter now, we've got a job to do right?" The short Mandalorian put in, looking back and forth between the Mercs and glancing up at Lazer Brains. The Mando' shrugged nonchalantly "We've taken on the Imps before, not a problem."

"Well, I guess we better make good use of your expertise, then." Barnes retorted. He turned and stepped onto the bottom part of the moving escalator, two metres up before he glanced back to see Lazarian's mouth agape, and just one of the other two FARP stepping after him.

It was a moment before Barnes remembered that he had assigned the third trooper to guard the lobby, and was hit by indecision as to whether to keep him there or not, when he hit the next level up, and stepped off the escalator onto the carpeting.

"C'mon." He called behind him, "those VIPs will start to worry if they heard the Imperials just now."

Tag: Laine_Snowtrekker. Mitth_Fisto, Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Chief Cervantez, OSA Guard Peters, Knight Johmer Evanson, cockpit and lounge area of the YV-560 light freighter, Vidhaftande
Locations: Florn


Cervantez steered the freighter into the unlit Main Hangar, the ship's searchlights skittering along the disc-like flanks of a YT-1300 Corellian vessel parked to their left as she slid her ship in alongside it, and settled onto the black deck.

No other craft were in the hangar, the spots illuminating the back of the hangar and glittering off the high-up windows of the Flight Control offices.

She had not registered a magnetic containment field in operation, and lights on her board that should be checking for atmosphere outside were a solid red.

They were open to space!

Her nose twitched, then the strong smells of alcohol washed over her! What in Fornax?!
She undid her seat belt and heaved herself out of the seat.

* * * *

OSA Guard Peters recoiled from the immediate stench of the spilled spirits from the smashed bottles at his feet.
"You crazy brix-hole!" He yelled into Owen's sealed visor.

The Jedi came running, "What happened? Ah heck, it's all draining through the deck plates! Is there anything-"

The lighting overhead whined dramatically, then switched off, plunging the ship interior into pitch blackness. "-that could be affected?" he finished lamely, "Anyone got a glowrod?"

From somewhere unseen in the darkness, there was thud followed by a cry of pain from the Chief.

Tag: galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Vidhaftande, cockpit

"You crazy brix-hole!" The man yelled.

"Yes, I warned you I was on Medical Hold." The Merc said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"What happened?" the old man said from behind the trio, "Ah heck, it's all draining through the deck plates! Is there anything-" The pitch of the lights picked up for just a moment, then snapped, and plunged the whole ship into darkness. -that could be affected. Anyone got a glowrod?" Owen nonchalantly ran his finger down the right side of his helmet activating the lamp on the side of it. He sighed, of course his little 'tantrum' would break something. Well if this ship's now without power, and the Star Destroyer they just entered was as well, then this whole crew was dead, including him.

A thud and shout of pain drew his attention in was the Chief. The soldier turned and moved towards it, stopping to look over his shoulder saying "Tell me where the breath masks are or you're going to be dead sooner than me." He drew his pistol, not because he was worried, just that anything could have shut down power to the dreadnought they were now aboard. After the incident with the chair, Owen wasn't prepared to rule any madness out. "Chief," He called out, moving cautiously, "Are you dead, scream once for no, or twice for yes." This mission was over and unless someone was a mechanic they were all dying on in this cold metal box. Part of him was angry at himself, for causing this, for bringing about his own death.

But, the past can't be changed, no matter how much one wishes it could be. Could they survive, maybe if they found some glowrods and breathmasks, possibly. Could they do it if he was the only one that could navigate the darkened ship?

Brix if he knew.

Wait, wasn't there an astromech, pinkish, with a woman's voice.

"Hey astromech," the armored man called out, "Think you could turn the lights back on?"

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Chief Cervantez, Knight Johmer Evanson, Cheryl the Astromech, OSA Guard Allen, cockpit and lounge area of the YV-560 light freighter, Vidhaftande
Locations: Florn


Cervantez slid down the curving corridor wall on her left side, cupping her left knee with both hands. She had memorised her way round this freighter at short notice, but clearly not enough to cope if the lights suddenly went off!

Thank the Force that she had already set them down on the hangar deck.

"Chief," the filtered voice of that armoured spacesuit could be heard calling her, "Are you dead, scream once for no, or twice for yes."

"No, I'm not dead!" She snapped irritably, "Just banged my knee when the lights snapped off. And watch where you're stomping; I'm almost on the floor. What the hell happened, did we blow a fuse?" She closed her eyes, wishing that she was doing better than this. There were techniques to compartmentalise the pain, let her get on with her job, but those were not coming to mind right now.

In the darkness, she heard the Merc say, "Hey astromech, think you could turn the lights back on?"

"No naked flames, Cheryl!" A voice snapped out, which she recognised as belonging to the jedi-type. She made a mental note to ask him if he was one of the famous Corellian Knights.

Oh, you always spoil my fun.

She wasn't sure whose voice that was.

Typical. Humans create the mess; I have to clean up after them.

Oh right, that was the droid.

* * * *
Lounge

OSA agent Allen, still seated at the holotable, suddenly had a brainwave. Then he had another brainwave, a safety-related one.

"Alright, don't panic people," He called out, "I am just going to switch the holotable on to provide a bit of illumination." He didn't want to get shot by a surprised ally.

Extending fingers slowly ahead of him till they encountered the cold curvature of the table edge, he blindly explored it till he encountered the thin rectangular buttons, and sought out by memory, the one that would turn the thing on.

A third brainwave had him leaning over onto his right side, E-11 digging into his thigh as his elbow hit the seat cushion, to present a smaller, lower target, if someone did shoot at the source of light and noise, especially howls from the little hologrammatic monsters.

There was the tiniest click sound as he depressed the activating control, and the holo sprang into life, casting a weak gunmetal-grey light a couple feet.

He could see the Jod seated to his left clearly enough, and the nearest side and limbs of the jedi and the spacesuit fellow, the latter moving out of the light.

"Hey, good job!"

Allen smiled briefly. "Thanks."

Tag: galactic-vagabond422

---

Major Gal Lace (Strike Squadron)


While the seconds of his two minute countdown ticked away, Lace observed the ships ahead, one of two Imperial-class Star Destroyers, and several non-Imperial combat ships, manouvering either to escape vectors, or to stay out of the guns of that ISD.

He hoped the Darkest Night would not divert his squadron to hit those closer ships; none of them looked like the Johnny Boy, and he had the profile of that Marauder-class corvette scarred into the back of his eyelids. He could see her whenever he closed his eyes, and he wanted that itch scratched.

"Two minutes?" A transmission finally came back. "That's not even time to cut the straws!"

Lace grinned meanly behind his back durasteel faceplate. "Alright, five minutes. No more."

Surely General Pre-eminent Soal and that Isard slitch would not begrudge him the three extra minutes.

"Uh, the straws are locked in a cabinet...we just have to find the key. Can you stretch to-"

"Five minutes." Lace clipped. "No more."

"-two standard hours?"

The Major glared through space at the diffused blue-white glow of the planet Florn.
These cheeky....

"Is that the elf?"

There was a long pause, which almost had him thinking to check his comm-unit had not failed, when the anonymous voice responded:

"........No. Boring conversation anyway." One of the frequencies dropped out as the line was cut.

Tag: Bravo

 

APPROVED BY I-5

Name: Orlisan Cade
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Species: Human
Home World: Corulag
Affiliation: The Empire

Personality
---Traits: Dutiful, fearless, independent, lively
---Likes: the outdoors, family time, range practice, alcohol
---Dislikes: War, body odor, Arkanians, chaos
---Habits: doesn't put tools back where they belong

Appearance
---Skin Color: Olive
---Hair Color: Black
---Eye Color: Dark Grey
---Height: 6'1
---Weight: 186 lbs
---Clothing:
Standard: Orlisan's Scout Trooper armor is special issue. His occupational specialty as a tracker/sniper Operative lends to his gear being tailor made. The only standard issue gear he has is the black under-armor garments worn by all troopers. Specialty armor includes cortosis woven forearm plates, a miniature range finder built into his helmet that displays to his HUD, and a weightless battery-powered smock measuring 4 feet long by 2.5 feet wide that adapts/mimics whatever environment he is in - providing camouflage. His A295 Blaster, modified sniper rifle with bipod and "infra-ready" scope would typically be slung behind his back using a ratcheted hoop sling that could be adjusted depending on the user's movement.

Tracker: While tracking, Orlisan takes his pet "drone" droid to help keep track of his pace count and give him readings on local planetary weather and ground layout by feeding the information straight to his HUD. He also leaves the smock on his speeder bike, instead of wearing it.
Sniper: On missions that require quick extractions, long wait times, and optimal cover, Orlisan outifts his drone to be his 'floating turret' to cover any exposed positions he may find himself waiting in. He also wears the B.P. Smock but ditches his combat ready 74-Z speeder-bike to minimize his presence.
---Other Attributes: Skilled marksman, lean build, excellent grappler in hand to hand combat.
---Other Details:
Weapons:
1x A295 Sniper Rifle
1x EC-17 Scout Pistol
1x Multi-tool/Dagger

Skills
---Primary Skill: Tracker
---Secondary Skill: Sniper
---Life Experience: Hunter

Education
---General Education: Imperial University Graduate
---Specialized Education: None

Flaws / Limitations
----Physical: Slow to moderate runner. Able to cover long distances but at a modest pace. Relies on map data to create shorter routes to accomodate for his slow pace.
----Mental: Critical thinking abilities cause Orlisan to be very self-aware and cognizant of himself, often being too critical of himself.
---Emotional: Being married, Orlisan often feels torn as between his duty to the Empire and to his wife. His wife holds deep disdain for the Empire which also causes him to be apprehensive and fearful for her sake. He often wonders how long this peace between his family and his duty will last..
---General: He was estranged from his father when he was a baby and never knew him. The only information he had was that his father was dishonorably discharged from the Imperial Navy and a wanted man. This caused Orlisan to sometimes overcompensate due to the the stigma of his family name.
---Character Critical Failure: Can't speak anything but galactic basic. He also is prone to intensive migraine headaches that leave him severely impaired for hours on end. The migraines are random and aren't triggered by anything specific. Stims can only suppress his condition when the migraines strike at a minimum of 3%, and a maximum of 15% suppression. Anything above 10% suppression allows him to be mobile, anything below and he's helpless.

Starship
---Name: Phaeton III
---Class: Out System Scout Vessel
---Speed:
---Hull Rating: Light Armor
---Shields: Standard
---Ejection System: Equipped
---Life Support: Equipped
---Hyperdrive Class: Class 1
---Weapon(s):
1x Laser Cannon Turret
---Crew: 1 Pilot, 1 gunner
---Passenger(s): 2
---Max Cargo (kg): 70k
---Interior Description: Standard Imperial instruments/panneling
---Other Details: N/A

After it's destruction by the Empire..
---Name: Eon's Rage
---Class: BTS-A2 Long Range Strike Fighter/Bomber
---Speed:
---Hull Rating: Heavy (Reinforced) Armor
---Shields: High-Energy
---Ejection System: Equipped
---Life Support: Equipped
---Hyperdrive Class: Class 1
---Weapon(s):
1x Medium Laser Cannon Turret
2x Light Ion Cannons
2x Proton Torpedoe Launchers
---Crew: 1 Pilot, 2 weapons personnel
---Passenger(s): 1
---Max Cargo (kg): 220
---Interior Description: Basic Koensayr manufacturing interior with upgraded seats for the pilot and two gunners, to add comfort.
The Force
---Sensitivity: None
---Religion: None
---Lightsaber
-----Crystal(s): N/A
-----Blade(s): N/A
-----Color(s): N/A
-----Handle Description(s): N/A
---Force Abilities: N/A
---Force Weakness: N/A.
---Other Force Object(s): N/A

Biography
---Being estranged from his disgraced father at a young age, his mother sent him to live with his uncle on Corulag when he was six. His uncle was an overall good man but didn't know how to raise a child so he sent him into the Imperial Education program. Growing up on a biased planet in favor of the Empire, Orlisan came to believe the Empire was a force for good and sought to keep the peace throughout the galaxy. The history of his father caused him to be blackballed and therfore had a much harder time progressing as he grew older. Because of this, he worked twice as hard as those before him and when he had completed University studies instead of commissioning as an officer and dealing with all the politics of Command, he enlisted with the Imperial Special Forces. Shortly after completing his training Orlisan met a girl while on leave during a hike through the mountains on the planet Serreno. He was out of water and she offered some of hers and the rest is history. Orlisan and his wife currently take up residence on Corulag. Currently, Orlisan operates in teams of two or sometimes alone to complete his missions.

---Military History: Graduating at the top of his class in basic and follow up training schools, Orlisan quickly became a renowed tracker and marksman. He was one of two to complete the "One Click, One Shot" training exercise. The excercise had the troopers run through a grueling obstacle course three times over and finish by attempting to hit a moving target 990 meters (approx 1 click) with only two shots or less in under 5 seconds from point of sighting to the trigger pull. His obstacle course time was in the bottom half due to his slow pace, but he and his fellow trooper Bray were the only ones to actually hit the moving target. Since training Orlisan has been deployed several times on several tours, including two with the 501st.

Cade was selected to participate in the pilot school program with the Empire prior to finishing his MOS training. Being a part of a Scout Vessel crew requires all hands to have basic flight skills. Since he was a better shot than a pilot, Cade would typically be on the guns of the ship.

Sith-I-5

 

IC: Atin Taab/ Lazerinian "Laz" Ibarra (NPC)
Hanger level A-3, Far Reach Station, Florn System.

"Well, I guess we better make good use of your expertise, then." Atin bristled at Agent Barnes condescending reply. He breathed slowly, calming himself. Not the time for this verd (soldier), not the time, he told himself as Barnes went for the escalator. It wouldn't so the mission good for him to try to gut their contact before the VIPs could be extracted. Probably not afterwards either he lamented to himself, wondering if his father would let that stop him.

"C'mon. Those VIPs will start to worry if they heard the Imperials just now." Atin looked at the other Mercs before he nodded his head slightly in Barnes direction and shrugged. Apparently he was leading them the rest of the way now. The...whatever Lazaerinian was hesitated for a moment before following along as well. "They'll start to worry," Lazaerinian muttered under his breath just loudly enough for the Mercs to over hear. "When do we start to worry?"

TAG: Sith-I-5, Laine_Snowtrekker, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Owen Byrne
Vidhaftande, cockpit

"No, I'm not dead!" Chief Cervantes replied obviously annoyed by the whole situation, "Just banged my knee when the lights snapped off. And watch where you're stomping; I'm almost on the floor." Owen tilted his head down sweeping his light back and forth. "What the hell happened, did we blow a fuse?"

"Nope," He grunted, "simple equation, liquid plus exposed cables equals short." He found her moving to her feet. Helping her to her feet he continued "How all of that came together is for another time." He looked out into the darkened space, his small cone of light giving only a vague outline of where everything was, "Hey astromech," he called out, "think you could turn the lights back on?"

"No naked flames, Cheryl!" the older man called out. Owen just shrugged his shoulders, wouldn't make this mission any worse.

"Oh, you always spoil my fun." The droid retorted, "Typical. Humans create the mess; I have to clean up after them." The sassy astromech was sincerely getting on Owen's nerves. He disregarded most of what was happening around him as he looked for breathmasks. Breaking open a locker he found a few, not much else that would be useful outside a few glow rods. He didn't need them the lamp on the side of his helmet provided enough tactical illumination.

As he made his way back to the lounge, a familiar voice rang out in his head,

"You have got to be the most idiotic, dangerous, and outright suicidal man I've ever seen soldier." His father roared with a renewed vigor. "Did you retain any of the skills I trained into you? Or did you forget them the moment I was there to hold your hand?" Owen distributed the breath masks, first to Chief Cervantes, then to the old man, "Answer me soldier!" then to the two grunts, "To think I trained such a soldier is a disgrace, you shame me, you shame yourself. Have you loss all your sense? Or did that go out the airlock with they told you something was wrong in your brain." He skipped the two men in suits, they could fend for themselves.

"Finally you had an out, you had something to blame for all your failings, it's not you, it's your mind." The voice was mocking him now, condescension dripping from each word. "Though blaming someone else was always your way. You blamed me for what you became but, you never said no." The soldier let out a sharp breath moving towards the loading ramp, "You chose to be this, you wanted to be the best soldier, and now you're failing at that. You're worthless, a waste of mine and everyone's time." He sucked on his teeth leaning against a wall looking out over the rest of his 'team'.

"You're more of a risk to this mission than that drunkard." The voice seemed to have no designs on stopping it's tirade, it had been silenced for so long it would give its two credits, "So right now you have two choices, shape up and act like the soldier I trained you to be, or throw yourself out a karking airlock, you'll be just as useful, maybe more so as a distraction." A growl rumbled from Owen's throat, was he a risk to the mission, looking around the ship, the answer was obvious. Sure he was trying to send a message but, he went too far, now he made things worse. If he hadn't given in, if he'd resisted the persona he put on of the gruff freelancer only out for himself, and trying to act tough. If he just for one moment thought like the soldier he was trained to be would he have made that choice?

He let out a breath, thinking about the offer made by that imperial captain. If he took up arms against the Mercs, against those he currently worked for, he might be shown leniency, might even be allowed back into the Imperial Military. He looked back upon his time in His Imperial Majesty's Service with almost longing. It was simple back then, just follow your orders.

"See you liked being a soldier," His father grumbled, "You liked how easy it was. It was just your weak stomach that turned you away but, you can't be anything else can you. You were made for one thing, fighting for the Empire, with a squad of likeminded men and women. Look around you solider do you think any of these hold the same beliefs you once did. In standing by your squad, in protecting the people you serve with." The voice's words were a slap in his face, he once believed in those ideals, and thought he still did but, that had fallen away, replaced by his own selfishness and need to escape.

"Cockpit's right through there, you could take control, defect." Owen's stomach turned at the thought of piloting this crate. "Oh, that's right you can't pilot anything can ya," his eyes sweep across the space again. "You could always force one of them to fly, kill the old man first, I never liked how he talked, then the grunts, they should be easy enough, unarmored, with primitive looking weapons. Then kill the drunkard, his reaction times will be slowed, could even save yourself the blaster energy and open his neck with your vibroblade." The voice said all of this so coldly, lacking all the fire of his dressing down, "Then you have a choice between the other suited man, and the girl. Frack you could torture one to get the other to cooperate. Though maybe a blaster to the side of either's head will do it." He could see it all he could leave this deck stained in blood and bodies but, even at his most controlled shots would still be fired, shots that could miss, shots that could disable this ship, then where would he be.

"You don't want to harm the girl do you?" the voice continued, volume rising, "She reminds you of her, the girl that left you behind, I have news for you soldier." There was a worrying pause, "No one will ever feel that way about you, not her, not Alicia, and most certainly not Evalynne. So give up, the only people that ever cared for you were the men in your squad but, you turned your back on them. You've been alone ever since, and you will continue to be so until you return to them, or end your pitiful existence." Those weren't very good choices but, that was the way his brain saw things, black and white, only two options. One was significantly easier to do than the other but, that didn't make it the right one. He let out another growl. Trying to force his father from his mind, he thought back to what brought him on board this ship, it wasn't money, it was something else, freedom, from the Mercs from Jod and from the Empire. To do that he needed to complete this mission, it wasn't going to be easy but, with this team maybe he could pull it off.

He looked around for a bit finding the controls for the magnetic containment field. He turned it on and lowered the ramp. "If someone's able to accompany me, we might be able to repressurize this hangar." The altitude fell from his voice, he was no longer the cocky freelancer, now he was just a soldier offering solutions, "I am open to suggestions, after all I'm just a grunt. Better at following orders than giving them."

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: SG-12 "Twelve" (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Saber_Guard]Saber[/url] Guard npc), Captain Dan MacKellar, Communications Officer, bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer, Gaurantor
Locations: Florn system edge


The bridge was frenetic with activity as the simple arrival next to an apparently lifeless sister Star Destroyer was complicated by the close arrival of about five privateer combat vessels, all who seemed to have their own issues, not least that ugly-looking Neutron Star-class bulk cruiser taking shots in the rear from the Blockade Runner and a smaller craft.

Then the Gaurantor belatedly noticed two of the craft making a beeline for them!

Cheeky little beggars!

The ComScan officer was picking up chatter being broadcast between the five vessels, and at the Saber Guard's suggestion, was playing it so the bridge crew could hear it.

"Aye, we be but humble pirates, Captain. Some of us wanted a new Captain. We be getting too big and ye profits are sharing too much. Not savy for we pockets, if you get my understanding mate. They be no returning for ya, Captain. But if you did, you'd see not yourself as our Captain."

"Such terrible Basic." One of the grey-uniformed lieutenants muttered.

"Agreed." Twelve nodded. "Even if they are pirates, do they have to talk like that?"

"Must be a union thing."

"As you see it, Manners. But just remember, I be Pirate Captain Oscar Chills-"

Twelve glanced round the bridge, his chrome armour reflecting the fittings and the faces of the men. "Someone should be writing this stuff down."

"What be that, Oscar!? I assure you, we can come to an understanding that---"

A bright flash lit up space as the CR90 detonated without warning, consumed by multiple fireballs and shooting jagged debris in all directions.

"What the frag was that?" Captain MacKellar demanded loudly, and Twelve looked back to see the Guarantor's commander enter the bridge through the double-sliding doors at the rear, passing the two Naval Guards, and black-and white figure of Orlisan Cade, a Scout Trooper who had proved extremely useful during the Saber Guard's boarding of the Galactic Voyager, and even scoring swimming trunks for him. Twelve had the sense that the man was over-compensating for something.

"That? A Blockade Runner just exploded." Twelve splayed the gloved fingers of one hand to give the captain an update. "Okay, by the numbers. One, five ships jumped in after us. Pirates apparently. Two, some sort of disagreement between them, and the CR90 exploded. Three-" The Saber Guard paused as the broad-shouldered captain put up a palm to stop him.

MacKellar swivelled to face an officer in a windowed alcove at the side of the bridge. "Tactical. Status on that Interceptor-class frigate."

"Still intact, Captain. She is manouvering to stay clear of our guns, but while she was inbound before, she has not made an attack on us."

"Keep trying to engage her. Also, I want that Starrunner captured intact. Disable it with tractors and ion cannon."

"Yes sir."

"Captain!" The Comms Officer called from the pit to the right of the command walkway that the gold-and-white armoured figure had just crossed. "We are receiving a transmission from that bulk cruiser, identifying their ship and purpose. They have Imperial authorisation to perform space rescues. They advise that they are engaging hostile targets of the Lighter and CR90 to their rear and deploying a TIE squadron and Skiprays in support of that objective.""

"Past tense with the CR90." SG-12 put in, looking down at the earnest-looking crewperson. "Did it mention that they were pirates?"

"No Sir. Haha." The man answered with a suppressed chuckle.

"It's probably a forgery then."

"Unless they were lying about being pirates."

"Why would someone lie about being a pirate?" A voice from the opposite crew pit piped up.

"To impress a girl, perhaps?"

Twelve's telepathy or empathy had been sensing the build up of frustration within the captain, and looked up at his reddening face. Oh dear.

A second bright flare from outside as another ship exploded.

It was like a pin to the balloon of MacKellar's bad mood, the man deflating and asking, "Was that the Interceptor?"

"Negative, Sir. The Lighter was leaking fuel, which must have ignited."

"And TIEs. Can pirates just buy TIEs now?" MacKellar frowned at this, then looked over as a thought occurred to him. "What about our TIEs? The ones we sent to check out the SD?"

"Uh....uh." The Comms Officer looked fearful for his own life as he reported. "We appear to have lost contact with them."

"How did you not notice that?"

"It-it had been a bit frenetic since the Darkest Night showed up."

"Pardon?"

"Three," SG-12 took this as his cue to continue. "a big drokk-off Star Destroyer jumped in behind the pirates, and gave everyone not working for the Empire, two minutes to surrender or switch sides."

Tag: Bravo, The Vanguard

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Hanger level A-3, Far Reach Station, Florn System.

"Well, I guess we better make good use of your expertise, then." Atin bristled at Agent Barnes condescending reply. Havah simply breathed. Lesser beings was his sole thought as Barnes went for the escalator. With the Empire sticking their toes in this mission had devolved into just the next step, if the VIPs could be extracted. Not whether they themselves would make it out, merely the VIPs.

"C'mon. Those VIPs will start to worry if they heard the Imperials just now." Atin looked at the other Mercs before he nodded his head slightly in Barnes direction and shrugged. The kid was apparently feeling his oats, that or else the weight of that beskar helmet was a bit too much for the lads head, panicky VIPs were like a swarm formation attack group just waiting to stampede in disarray with nowhere to go but into each other to avoid incoming enemy fire. You could loose half a swarm style fleet from friendly crashes, more so than enemy fire. The bumbling creature was hesitated for a moment before following along as well. "They'll start to worry," he muttered under his breath just loudly enough for the Mercs to over heard. "When do we start to worry?"

"When green horn starts worrying about her pay for this gig. Nothing to do but get the weight out and hit the after burners." He muttered back conversationally. The Empire for the moment was the least of their worries. It was the panicky VIPs that had him more concerned. "Come on lets move it!" he called for all to hear as he invaded the next person up the escalators personal space.

TAG: Sith-I-5, Laine_Snowtrekker, Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Orlisan Cade, Sergeant, Scout Trooper; Bridge of the ISD, The Guarantor
Location: Florn System Edge

"As you see it, Manners. But just remember, I be Pirate Captain Oscar Chills-"

Orlisan was able to hide his facial expression beneath his helmet upon hearing the name of Oscar Chills. It sparked something in him that he couldn’t put a finger on.

“That name. What was so familiar about that name?” he thought to himself.

"Someone should be writing this stuff down." said the agent clad in chrome armor.

Listening to the comm chatter from these vagabonds was humorous at best. They lacked radio etiquette and discipline. But that was irrelevant. He was still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Suddenly a flash lit up the observation port ahead. The crew of an Imperial Star Destroyer wouldn’t flinch at a ship exploding, they were battle hardened. But to Orlisan there was something heavy in hearing the broadcast conversation abruptly cut off in tandem with the blast, followed by an eerie silence. For the blink of an eye he paused, as if time had slowed; he could easily visualize demise of the crew.

“Poor souls.” he muttered to himself as real time kicked back in. Whether or not the Force was even real to him wasn't an issue. At the end of the day, you respect the dead.

Orlisan kept his ear trained on SG-12, who was waltzing around the bridge as if this was just another patrol. He had a calm disposition, but it was easily inferred that the man meant business. He had seen him in action before, calculated, precise. He didn’t make mistakes and if he did, it was usually a feint. Orlisan worshipped tactical excellence. He also knew the equal value of spontaneous ingenuity; the ability to adapt to a changing environment and still thrive. This was something successful pirates shined in.

Captain MacKellar was getting impatient. Whatever those privateers were doing, he didn’t like it.

"Keep trying to engage her. Also, I want that Starrunner captured intact. Disable it with tractors and ion cannon."

Orlisan had seen his fair share of melting airlock doors, corridor shootouts, and the occasional surprise impact grenade during a hostile boarding. Rebels were pretty straightforward combatants. Even their guerilla teams employed many recycled strategies that he had seen time and again. This lent to the depth of surprise everyone felt when they managed to blow up the Emperor’s prize. Still, these were pirates. Even if they were allied with the Rebellion, pirates were predictably unpredictable.

If the Captain wants to disable them he means to capture, not destroy; and if they were to be captured – he certainly wanted a chance to be on the boarding party. After all, he always wanted to meet a pirate.
TAG: Sith-I-5, Bravo

 

IC: Swifts
Space Station, Florn, en route to VIPs

Barnes looked at her. "If you were in any way self aware as a kid, you might one day have thought that there would one day be a time that you would be too old to do something, skipping synthrope with the other girls, something like that. The Empire coming was like that; we knew they would find us one day, but after the first couple of decades, we quit worrying about it." He paused. "Sorry it wasn't in your briefing."

Swifts gave a short nod in response. She didn't think he was actually all that sorry, but no need to lengthen the conversation.

"Doesn't matter now, we've got a job to do right?" Scorch said, shrugging slightly. "We've taken on the Imps before, not a problem."

Bless Scorch for his confidence, Swifts thought. I could do with some more of that right about now, what with the Empire breathing down our necks. Still, he's got a point...

"Well, I guess we better make good use of your expertise, then." Barnes retorted. He turned and stepped onto the bottom part of the moving escalator, with Lazarian and one of his unnamed soldiers behind him. Barnes reached the top of the escalator and called back to them, ""C'mon, those VIPs will start to worry if they heard the Imperials just now."

What? It's not like the VIPs were saving themselves, even if they had some fancy ship all ready to go. Why would they be worried? They'd probably just bribe their way out of trouble--that was very VIP-ish, in Swifts' experience.

"They'll start to worry," Scorch muttered under his breath just loudly enough that she (and the Major, probably) could hear. "When do we start to worry?"

"When green horn starts worrying about her pay for this gig. Nothing to do but get the weight out and hit the after burners," the Major muttered back conversationally.

Wait, they got paid? Evalynne had forgotten that. Probably she should be troubled that they weren't paid before the mission, but now wasn't the time to be worried. Well, vocally worried, anyway. But once they'd gotten the VIPs (or 'weight', a term she appreciated) Swifts would inquire as to how pay was doled out.

"Come on let's move it!" Spook called loudly, pushing past the person in front of him.

She followed, slipping past the same person and keeping pace with Spook's longer stride. Swifts reached the top, not in the least bit winded. She wouldn't want to run up all the flights to the weight, but, even as a greenhorn she had useful skills. (That she'd better be paid for using.)

Synthrope, indeed. Yes, she was quick on her feet, but she'd never been one to skip synthrope. (True, she'd had private tutors before her time at the finishing school, and so hadn't had that many friends to skip synthrope with, but that wasn't any of Barnes' business.) And who thought adults couldn't skip rope if they wanted to? Apparently narrow-minded people like Barnes. She was liking him less and less.

"How many VIPs are there?" she asked. At this point she couldn't remember if that had been covered in the briefing or not, but it's something Barnes should know. And it would be good to know if they were going to be escorting them all at once.

TAG: Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Cheryl the Astromech, Chief Cervantez, Jedi Knight Johmer Evanson, lounge area of the YV-650 freighter Vidhaftande
Locations: Star Destroyer bay, Florn system edge


Cheryl scanned the walls looking for the light conduits, and picking a direction, trundled in that direction, the organics around her looking blindly towards the sound of her wheels on the deckplates as she disappeared from the meagre light offered by activated holotable.

"Hey astromech," Owen called out, from the direction that she had heard the Chief call from, "think you could turn the lights back on?"

I'm looking into that! The droid assured him.

Owen stomped back into the lounge, just missing her, with a gaggle of breathmasks in the large metal hands, handing them out, the recipients thanking him with various levels of gratitude.

Pulling the breathmask's stretchy cord over her head, Cervantez looked up at the outline of helmet most illuminated by the lumi affixed to it, as the owner stomped away towards the ramp, and a few moments later, she heard the whirr of the boarding ramp being lowered.

"If someone's able to accompany me, we might be able to re-pressurize this hangar." The Merc announced, "I am open to suggestions, after all I'm just a grunt. Better at following orders than giving them."

"Good to hear." The Chief acknowledged, stopping midway between the Merc and the lounge, then trailing after him, mainly because she could only see him helmet light now as it bobbed away in the darkness. "Breathmasks won't protect the rest of us; we need vacsuits."

She just about stopped herself jumping as a green light behind her suddenly cast her stark shadow on a curved corridor wall ahead of her, though her heart was beating like crazy.

She turned, hand reaching for her E-11, only to find the jedi coming up behind her with his lightsabre drawn and aim towards the ceiling, the emerald blade throwing off green light and flashing shadows in every direction as he moved.
"Aboard my ship, the Fluffy, we keep the emergency vacsuits in the living quarters."

Cervantez snapped her fingers. "Of course! Can you go check?"

Johmer shrugged and looked bashful in the glow of his weapon. "I would, but I don't know where that is on this class of vessel."

"Alright, follow me." She called to Owen. "I think you should stay onboard till we can go as a group, but if you do go on ahead, we will follow you as quickly as we can." She paused for breath, thinking, "Keep your comm open. Do you have a name, or callsign that you use?"

Tag: galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Captain Dan MacKellar, SG-12 "Twelve", bridge of the ISD Gaurantor
Locations: Florn system edge


The Captain crossed the arms of his armoured spacesuit with difficulty, the metal plates kept sliding off each other.
He stood at the triangular bridge windows, waiting to see his guns catch up with the Interceptor-class frigate as his ship turned to meet her, even as she tried to nose towards his ship's rear to get out of her line of fire.

"Has that big SD identified who is in charge?" He enquired, less sure of his position with her arrival.

"Negative," Twelve reported, next to the officer. "Only one who has said anything is that Major Gal Lace leading all the TIE fighters."
As he watched, a pair of blue-white ion bolts lanced out to the Starrunner, electrical-type energy crackling and arcing over it's patched tan and brown hull.

It's momentum arrested, the gap between it and the Interceptor, steady to now, began to widen appreciatively.

Twelve glanced sharply at the captain, who was leaning just a little too close to the window pane, leering just a little too much, and followed his gaze to the Starrunner-class transport. It was a nice-looking ship, like an abbreviated blockade runner fashioned into the shape of a roasted hawkbat leg, and fitted with two stubby wings and outsized laser cannon.

"If you want that thing intact, I wouldn't leave it out there." He cautioned.

Without taking his eyes of his prize, MacKellar called out, "Bring that ship into our bay."

"Yes sir!" An aide behind them called back. "Tractor Control, you heard the Captain."

"Sir. Sir, what about the pirate escape capsule we captured at Draukyse?"

The Captain's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are we still carrying that? Release it to make room. No wait," he turned in the cumbersome suit to look down upon his men, "push it in the path of that Interceptor. Should slow it down and box it in enough for our guns to hit it."

The crew acknowledged with enthusiasm, a sign that they approved of the idea.

"Special One?"

Buttering me up, eh? Twelve thought, standing straighter and puffing out his chest at the use of the name he had coined for himself.

"I would be obliged if you secured that Starrunner for me. A show of good faith, if you will."

Ah. The Saber Guard's mouth turned down at the corners, behind his mostly featureless chrome mask. "I'm here for the Mercs." He reminded.

"And how do you plan to get to them, walk?"

The Force warrior was silent for several moments, staring down at the Imperial commander, till he was sure he could talk calmly. "Well. You certainly know how to make a case." He took a step back and bowed his head. "Captain."
Grey cape fluttering in his wake as he stalked intently across the rear door, addressing Cade as he strode passed the scout trooper. "Corporal, Sergeant, whatever, prepare your men. And call ahead for a TIE Boarding Craft. We have a ship to capture."

Stepping down the flight of four steps immediately beyond the bridge doors, Twelve aimed the Force towards the distant turbolifts to get one called before he got there.

Tag: The Vanguard

---

IC: Lieutenant G'nettoh, cockpit of the http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Starrunner-class_starship][/url]Starrunner-class transport, Passionate about Death
Florn system edge

The http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sk%C3%A4rtis_species]Skartis[/url] lieutenant stabbed a clawed digit onto the dark coloured squares on the control board, that had been glowing healthily before the ion cannon hit, and now the vast grey hull of the huge star destroyer passed overhead as invisible tractors reeled them in.

"Blast that Oscar Chills for leading us here!" He snarled, thumping a fist down onto the board.

As a non-human, he knew the Empire were unlikely to show him any mercy. Therefore, he was not going without a fight...

Tag: no-one