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

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, near "Downtown"


If Lasso was part of a Coruscant blockbuster action movie, he would expect this song to be played as he ran down the steps in stolen Espo armor, evading enemy forces bent on the evil destruction of mankind chasing him. But, it was clear someone was having a bad day with the female sex. The music flowed softly through the stairway.

Lasso laughed to himself as he followed the signs on the stairways, finally coming to one that said VIP Patient Clothing and Belongings for the 400's Floor. Lasso wiped the sweat from his brow.

Finally. No wonder they made turbolifts. And no wonder Stormtroopers used them, it was just a blessing by the Force that Lasso didn't have to wear Stormtrooper armor and do the step routine he had just done.

Lasso had to keep reminding himself to move fast, not because he wanted to shed this Espo armor faster then a bad ex-girlfriend, but because he had to get back to the CSA Warehouse District. For all Lasso knew, they needed to be rescued (little did Lasso know, the other Mercs were already approaching the hospital).

He collected himself, made sure he looked like a good upstanding self-important Espo Trooper and opened the door. He entered onto a floor of normal activity, with medical staff walking back and forth, doing various tasks.

Good.

Jason tried to blend in with the crowd, looking as if he was just patrolling or going to complete some assigned task.

"Hey!" a voice rang out from behind him. Jason tensed, unlocking the safety on the blaster carbine, "Hey, hold 'up!" Said a Espo Trooper---a young lad in his early twenties---with a fellow Espo Trooper next to him. "Haven't you heard the orders from Lieutenant Dasky? All Espo forces in the hospital are to report to security check-points and lock down the hospital. No one in or out! For the limited number of us here," the young trooper smiled, "Good luck! I can't remember half the people who walk through my check-point in the last ten minutes!"

"Oh, ah yea," Lasso said, continuing to walk with purpose, "The turbolifts are down on this side, or at least one was. Lieutenant Dasky sent me on a detail to collect that VIP's clothes. Something about evidence they missed when he was first brought in."

"Which VIP?" Asked the young guard.

Lasso had to recover quickly! But luckily, this Espo and his buddy looked young and green, probably only a few months out of the academy, "You haven't heard?" Lasso replied, tapping the Sergeant stripes on his shoulder, "Ah, maybe it comes with the rank. You young pups are given the fun stuff, we vets just get the same old routine stuff," the two younger Espos seemed to straightened in their body dispositions as they realized which ranked trooper they were talking to, especially someone higher ranked then them; Lasso chuckled to keep the act going, "Don't worry about it. Hey, any of you have a access card I can borrow? The LT didn't give me his. The VIP area is secured, or so I hear."

"Well, we're not suppose to..." said the other trooper, the quiet one of the pair, "...We could get in a lot of trouble from the Lieutenant."

"If he finds out," Lasso said with over impatience, "Look, I really don't want to have to run all the way back to the LT all for a stupid clearance card. He needs this stuff now. And you two are the only ones are this floor now, correct?"

"Well, yes sir," answered the first trooper again, covering for his comrade, "Sir, everyone else was sent to other check-points."

"More important check-points is what your saying," Lasso clarified, seeing the sign for the room he needed ahead and stopping, forcing a nurse, who grunted, to have to suddenly divert her path of travel and walk around the three Espos, "Look, I'm on a detail from the LT. If you want to make it good with the LT and possibly get those party nights free---assuming you young kids still party like I did back in my time---I can put in a good word for you two fellas. It would help. But, if you don't help me and the LT asks why the two Espos on this floor didn't help me, I can't blame it on anyone else, now can I?"

The two young troopers looked between each other, then the first trooper handed over his security card, "Code is Two-dash-Two-dash-One-dash-Alpha-dash-Zebra-dash-Mary."

"Thanks. Now, does the weapons safe have a separate code?" when the trooper looked at him with a bit of concern, Lasso clarified, "Part of the evidence are the VIP's weapons. Now, I was told by a nurse because of his VIP status, all weapons and evidence would be held together, right?"

"Well...yes," the first trooper replied hesitatingly, then sighed, "The weapons code is Alpha-dash-Dog-dash-Emperor-dash-one. Plus clearance from the Espo inside the vault for the weapons."

Lasso kept the surprise from his face about a guard in with the weapons. But it made sense.

"Thank you," Lasso said.

"Yes, sir," the first trooper said, then as they departed, the second trooper said.

"Sergeant?"

"Yes?" Lasso asked as he turned around from walking towards his destination.

"There's a rock event in town next weekend. Do you think you can manage some nice words for us? We're working then."

Jason smiled, "I'll see what I can do. I'll return your security card trooper as soon as I'm done with it."

"Your welcome, sir. And sir, what is your name?" the first trooper replied, then both troopers rushed off to their security check-point detail.

"I'm new here," Lasso kept with the story, "I transferred from the capital sector outfit last week and this is my first day. But the name is Green, Sergeant Green."

"Thank you, sir," the trooper said with a smile, "And welcome."

"Pleasure to be here for a slower pace," Lasso said, "Although Imperial Stormtroopers in the hospital isn't my idea of a slower pace."

The two troopers left; now, in the front of the door a few steps later, Lasso swiped the card and entered the desired password. The door opened with a hiss.

Environmentally controlled. Smart.

Lasso entered, making sure to keep his head slightly turned away from the Espo Trooper on guard duty behind a security chain-mail fence over a desk. No security cameras at first glance; it would make sense with the word "VIP" attached to anything, to keep certain high profile beings from having their privacy being spied upon once their stuff came in. Rumors would go wild if a holo star was here and the hospital didn't want to be sued. So security measures in swipe cards and passwords (that probably randomly changed every day) with a organic guard were tough enough security measures.

"Hey Poly," the guard said towards Lasso, "I heard you got tagged for that VIP guard station. Must be nice carrying around your own selection of weapons."

Lasso didn't say a word, it was clear this guard knew Lasso's former guardsmen, so he would also know Poly's voice. Instead Jason just nodded as he swiped the card and in-putted the password. The door return chime went red.

"Oh!" the guard laughed behind the chain-mail security fence, "Forgot, with lock-downs I have to override the system."

Lasso simply nodded, quietly switching the blaster rifle to stun mode as the guard went through with his steps. The door finally opened.

"Ploy, you doing alright?" the guard asked, "Your quiet!"

Lasso finally turned to the guard, blaster rifle aimed at him.

"Your not Poly!" said the guard.

"No duh!" Lasso said and popped off a stun blast. The stun blast went through the fence, not being a straight beam like a blaster bolt, but a circle, parts of the fence blocked it, while other parts of the stun made it through the miniature holes in the fence design. Lasso had to fire several times for the reduced stun blast result to take the Espo down, but three blasts later, the Espo Trooper behind the fence was out cold. Lasso entered the vault, seeing that there was a emergency override for inside the vault if someone got locked in, but better yet, seeing that there was an unobstructed walkway over to where the guard was passed out at behind the desk. Good, he wouldn't be trapped in here.

Lasso quickly found his stuff---and weapons---and started to change. He wouldn't blend in anymore, but a quick exit along the stairs would make a easy out. Plus, he wasn't going to leave here without his stuff anyways.



TBC

---

OOG: Part of Dak's post is a prelude to the redo I am doing for the Imperials in the hospital.


IC: Dak
Outside Craci Regional Medical Center, CSA


Dak let the discussion---or bad vibes more like it---between Mahaben and Sydney run it's course. The droid would report his findings to the Captain later.

For now, he completed his previous orders from Mahaben. Taking the group behind a long and tall section of thick brush between the hospital and parking lot, the droid crouched everyone down as he brought up the floor plans.

"Considering the Captain's disappearance events, I don't know where he would be starting to descent the stairs by. But---shhh!" Dak said suddenly as the repeated march of armored boots went by. The droid peaked through the brush, seeing what he dreaded most, well second most to Stormtroopers and Darth Vader: a company worth of CompForce Troopers marched by, lead by a mysterious black clad Umbaran escorted by a squad of ISB Stormtroopers (although Dak thought they were just normal Stormtroopers, since they all look the same)---who suddenly (the Umbaran) snapped around to look in Dak's direction, right at the droid.

The droid ducked under the brush, the now heavy rainfall drowning out any sounds he could use to make out what was going to happen next. After a few tense moments, Dak looked back through the brush, the Umbaran, his Stormtrooper escort, and the CompForce Troopers were all marching towards the hospital.

Dak looked back to the group, "Things just got a lot harder. I don't think the stairs are going to work anymore..."



TAG greyjedi125, Vehn, Master Selkath

 

OOG: The post below is a rewrite of the latter half of the post by Intervention on Jan 28, 2014 at 9:20 PM.


IC: Sergeant Major, BS-1118 "Animal"
Command Post (CP), Emergency Department, Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime


"I have a whole squad up there now, sir," Animal was saying to the Lieutenant with his helmet off and on the desk next to him, "But it is spreading our numbers thin, sir. I can't provide coverage for the whole hospital with a whole squad tied up guarding one floor. And sooner or later, somebody higher up then us is going to come looking for those Storm Commandos. And we need to have answers, sir."

"What did the nurses and other staff say on the floor?" The Lieutenant asked, his helmet off likewise, but in the crook of his elbow against his rib cage.

"BS-1114 was interviewing the nurses and security guard on the floor. They said an Espo Officer came out of that room, sir. One Espo," the Sergeant Major lowered his voice, "Was dead in front of the room door, a knife to his eye socket. A body was in the bed, wearing only boxers, and a medical gown was on the floor by the body. The body was shot full of holes in the bed, sir. That Espo was killed by our men. The reason is, why? And we need to remove any evidence before the CSA starts snooping around."

The Lieutenant replied quietly, "So your saying the Storm Commandos stormed a VIP room with orders to kill the Espos and whoever else was in that room. And a second person from that room is missing, which you assume to have worn that discarded medical gown at one time, now has taken an Espo Officer's clothes and is running around this hospital after killing three Storm Commandos?"

"Yes, sir," the Sergeant Major replied just as quietly, "And we need to act quickly. With my security teams thinned on the entrances and exits, that masked Espo has a higher likeability of escaping."

"This hospital is huge!" the Lieutenant breathed a little higher, grabbing the attention of a nearby Stormtrooper running the command center consoles; the Lieutenant lowered his voice again, "I have one squad tied up on roof detail---heck, we pulled four of those troopers to help sure up the security details outside once we pulled another squad to secure Floor Four Hundred Eighty-Three. I have one squad on CP and the rest are spread thin on entrances and exits."

"Lieutenant," the Sergeant Major said boldly and drawing the Lieutenant's gaze to help calm the young officer down, "I need orders for the men. Your orders. Sir."

"I have your orders," spoke a new voice from behind them and both the Sergeant Major and Lieutenant turned to look upon a black clad Umbaran and two Stormtroopers flanking the agent from behind; in the distance, what appeared to be a whole company worth of CompForce Troopers was marching into the Emergency Department.

At least, Animal thought, they had reinforcements. While CompForce Troopers were as good as dead before they even hit a battlefield, at least they were bodies the Stormtroopers could use to help sure up security around the hospital. Speaking of Stormtroopers, Animal knew within moments the two Stormtroopers flanking the black clad officer weren't Stormtroopers. At least not real Imperial Stormtroopers; every Stormtrooper, every good Stormtrooper, knew his comrades and these two fellas and the rest of their squad behind them issuing orders to the CompForce Troopers weren't stormtroopers. They were ISB Stormtroopers. Nothing but moles...dirty moles that gave the Stormtrooper Corps a bad name. ISB Stormtroopers were nothing more then murderers wearing a truly great military organization's armor. What a shame.

For the first time in his short tenure with the good Lieutenant, Animal saw something in the LT he had never seen before.

A rigid, unmoving backbone.

Good...this should get interesting.

"Orders?" The Lieutenant said, straightening.

"Yes, your orders---" the Umbaran srarted, but the Lieutenant cut him off by holding out a hand.

"No, your orders."

The alien seemed beyond speech for a moment, "Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

Animal could see the two ISB Stormtroopers straighten. Fine, they wanted a firefight, they could have one. His T-21 was on the desk by his helmet, but the Sergeant Major had quicker access to his E-11 Blaster Rifle in a hip holster or even quicker access to his sidearm, his SE-14r light repeating blaster. Yea, Animal hadn't lived this long knowing his favored T-21 wasn't his only means to survival on a battlefield.

While the realization of firing on fellow Stormtroopers---and especially a supposed Imperial Officer sank in---the old war veteran was okay with any sentence. He would win this fight, he already knew it. The two Stormtroopers were too closely flanking this alien dirt bag to be of any effective use---like Animal had thought, not real Stormtroopers. They were here for a show of power.

Any sentence would be a mute point anyways, because the ole Sergeant Major knew he wouldn't survive along against the superior numbers of CompForce Troopers.

So yea, he was ready for a firefight.

"You heard me, I want to see your orders. You barge onto my Command Post, telling a Lieutenant of the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps that you have orders. Unless your the Emperor himself or Darth Vader, both which I can pick out clearly without needing orders in written format, you better have orders. Until then, a Stormtrooper escort does not guarantee you my platoon's corporation with you. Until you have orders. So cough them up. Sir."

Well, Animal thought, his hand itching it's way closer to his sidearm, he was thankful for the LT's backbone, but maybe the Sergeant Major had to coach the young officer on how to avoid the firing squad with his words. Well, Animal thought, it was a good ride, one hell of a good ride. His hand had reached his blaster pistol, the Sergeant Major could see one of the ISB Stormtroopers start to react to his movement----

"Fine Lieutenant," the Umbaran finally said, handing over a data-pad from under his long black trench coat, "Your orders."

Animal relaxed his hand from his sidearm holster and he could see the ISB Stormtrooper do the same with the grip of his E-11 Blaster Rifle across his chest.

The Lieutenant surveyed the datapad and suddenly snapped to attention; Animal followed his Lieutenant's lead a moment later, "Cerulean Spear Command's First Century, First Platoon available at the Imperial Security Bureau's command. Awaiting orders, Commandant-General!"

Sith, thought Animal, the ISB? Hell, he would of rather had had a firefight against fellow Stormtroopers!

---

Administrative Offices, Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime, Craci System


"What the hell is 'Section'?" Animal was asking as both Stormtroopers walked down the same corridor together they had last found the Bith doctor; both their helmets were off, hanging off their belts. Unlike last time, Animal had his T-21 slung over his shoulder.

"Hell if I know," the Lieutenant replied back, "All I know is it said Section and it had the ISB symbol on it with General Preeminent Hilick Soal's signature on it. All verified and authentic. My platoon has all of sudden turned into a political assets for someone else's agenda."

"Lieutenant," the Sergeant Major said, "If it has the General's signature on it, we can trust it," the Lieutenant stopped suddenly and turned to the Sergeant Major who finished with, "Sir."

"I trust the General, Sergeant Major. I don't trust the ISB."

"Your not alone, sir," Animal said, which seemed to defuse the Lieutenant a bit.

"Good," the Lieutenant said, "Good then," the Lieutenant seemed at a loss of words at the moment, so Animal stepped in.

"Our orders, sir?"

That seemed to jump start the LT's mind in the right direction again, "Yes, orders. We are to recall our forces to the interior of the hospital. Secure all critical functions and patrol the hospital looking for the Commandant-General's reasons for his orders here. The CompForce Troopers are, as we speak, securing the exterior of the hospital."

"Why do I get the feeling this deals with the dead Storm Commandos?"

"It does," the Lieutenant confessed, "The Commandant-General took his squad of Stormtroopers to secure that floor and sent our Stormtroopers back to us. We are to lock down this hospital tighter then tight and force the killer into the open. The current Espo security forces are securing their security stations, so we'll have help in those areas. And the Espos will help secure the more public areas----the mess halls, etc---in the hospital. But we'll get the hospital itself in general, including one hundred CompForce Troopers to help out. The other eighty CompForce Troopers are securing the exterior building."

"Great," Animal said, "Trying to find a needle in a stack of needles."

"WHO is Sergeant Green?" asked a very disturbed Espo Lieutenant over a handheld comlink as he stormed out of a near-by office and went the opposite direction of the Stormtroopers who were trying to find him, "I have no Sergeant Green on my roster!"

"Well," the Lieutenant said matter-of-factly, "We have a place to start."


TBC

 

IC: Imperial Stormtrooper Lieutenant
Imperial Governor's Palace / Garrison Base, Craci Prime, Craci System


The Lieutenant sighed. Another one of these politicians thinking they were smarter then the military.

Idiots.

"Governor, I have orders from my Commanding Officer to bring you and your family back. This is now a military operation in CSA space, not Imperial space. Your enforcement of Imperial will was being a bastion of Imperial political might on the edge of CSA and Imperial space. That might has been broken. The military is here to restore it. Now, sir, I am giving you an order based on a military operation, not a civilian operation. You are coming with me and my men. Now."

The Lieutenant wasn't going to waste time; if the Governor wanted to die here, fine. But he wasn't going to let anymore of his men die for a politician. "Sergeant," the Lieutenant said over his shoulder, putting his helmet on, "Inform the Sergeant Major to deliver fire support on those buildings from a distance. Pick high-priority targets and fire. Try to reduce some of the heavy ordinance fire. But do not send any boots over there; our concern is the Governor and our mission, not the Espos' search efforts."

"Yes, Lieutenant," the Sergeant replied, turning away to deliver the orders.

The Lieutenant looked back to the Governor, "Governor, we move now to get your belongings."

Suddenly someone said shields were online within the operations center---finally someone had a thought here.



TAG Sith-I-5

---

Underground sewage tunnels near the Imperial Palace / Garrison Base


Any modern galactic city had an array of old forgotten tunnels, many of which didn't show up on blueprints of the cities anymore or were locked away in some old library vault and forgot about, the modern blueprints becoming the mainstay. They were about a half mile away. It had taken months, almost a year, of searching and finding the little tucked away places around the underground Imperial sensors and Imperial Stormtrooper patrols that protected the base from any surprise attacks from below ground; trained animals found the ways, so that when they would alert a sensor or patrol, Imperials would only find another animal...another day...another alert. After a while, the Imperials had turned a blind eye to the alerting sensors and patrols. But it were the animals that found the sensors and patrols and expert scouts that plotted a course around the Imperial defenses.

But below these tunnels, sneaking quietly through old work tunnels, sewage tunnels, and other ancient underground development that Imperial sensors and even the handful of Stormtrooper patrols down here didn't know about, a whole battalion's worth of eager, young freedom fighters were ready. They weren't fighting for the Rebel Alliance; like many groups, even after the victory at the Battle of Yavin, they operated as rebellious groups separate from the Alliance's own agenda. Where the Rebel Alliance had morals and ethics, these fighters only had the will to see the Empire burn by any and all means possible. So thus they went along, maybe not as well trained as the Rebel Alliance soldiers, but nonetheless dangerous with their mismatched armor clothing and weapons of a thousand types from a thousand different worlds. Here, the Empire sought to bring a thousand different worlds under one culture of thought; they, the freedom fighters, sought to free a thousand different worlds from Imperial culture.

And so they went: humans and aliens, droids and cyborgs, all with one goal: to destroy the Empire.

The Colonel, Force rest his soul, was right. Here, they would watch the Empire crumble...


TBC

 

IC: Mahaben
Craci Regional Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime

“Things just got a lot harder. I don’t think the stairs are going to work anymore…”

It wasn’t Dak’s words that gave the ex-jedi pause, nor was it the company of one hundred and eighty imperial troopers that had just marched by them. No, it was none of these things. His three companions could not possibly hear what he was hearing. Bogan’s mocking laughter. It just went on and on.

The four of them hid behind a brush. That was no way to mount a rescue.

“Ahab Nem….” He whispered as he shook his head, much like one would when experiencing deep regret.

After a deep sigh, the miraluka found his voice.

“Change of plans….” He said to the small group, his voice steady and strong.

“This is a very large structure, so its going to take some doing to find the captain, and our chances of finding him without getting captured ourselves have been seriously minimized. Dak, as soon as you find any port you can link to, do your best to triangulate the captain through the hospital’s security system- and find him. I’m sure you have some slicing capabilities. Ayres, if you can find a junction where you could disrupt power after you’ve triangulated the captain, that would be great. Try to set up some kind of timed failure or cascading effect. Don’t do it all at once it possible. If it happens in parts, that would add to the confusion.”

The blind man paused for a moment and took in a breath. There was simply no time to explain the risks, not in the scope in which he saw things. They would have to trust in him and he in them, just as he trusted the Force.

“Boras. You will be both the look out and armed support. Avoid any patrols you may encounter, especially large groups. Play it safe as much as possible. If you must dispatch of an enemy combatant, hide the body and strip it of anything useful. as for me…”

Mahaben seemed to shake his head lightly, then stopped. Slowly, he raised his hood and his face disappeared within the darkness of it. A hand went into his robes.

“I must become someone I have not been in a long time. I shall buy you as much time as possible, please do not squander it. I will become bait that they shall not be able to resist…and they will be wrong about me.”

With practiced grace, his hand emerged from within the folds of his robes. A silver cylinder with wood-like carvings was now wrapped in his fingers.

“No matter what happens, make sure you get the captain….”

There was something about the way he said that, but the blind man spoke not another word as he rose to his feet. Perhaps he should have waited for their opinions, but there was no more time to waste. Calamity stalked them all, for it was all about them now. He could sense it, growing stronger the longer they dallied. Perhaps they felt it, the change he now induced within himself. Perhaps not. It would be best if they did not…for how could they truly understand.

They could not hear the laughter. Bogan’s terrible laughter.

“Fine. Just this one time….” he whispered to himself as he moved forward towards the entrance of the building. His robed formed moved steadily, though his face was covered. If anyone called out to him, he ignored it until he was in position. He did not raise his head, but just gestured with a hand, gracefully…artistically.

Nothing seemed to happen for the space of a heartbeat. Then suddenly there was a flash of motion as a nearby speeder careened through the air and crashed with full force upon the face of the hospital, the thunderous impact shattering all windows in the immediate area.

There.

“…perhaps now I have your…undivided attention…” he said in a low whisper.

He was the bait. He would provide the distraction they needed, for as long as they needed it. To ignore him would be unwise, foolish even. Was there not a reward for the those like himself? Ah, but he was nothing like them anymore…still, they didn’t need to know that.

Within the shadow of his hood, none could see the hint of a smile. Whether it was rueful, beatific or insidious, none could really say.

“I do this for you…Captain…my captain.”

Another graceful wave of a robed arm, another vehicle streaked through the air with equally devastating effect.

“…that…was just in case you didn’t think I was serious…..”

A gentle push of his thumb. A snapping and hissing sound followed, heralding the emerging lance of blue fire.

Wordlessly, the robed figure stood there in silent defiance. His only gesture was with his hand, as he bade any to ‘come forth’ and take this bait fashioned especially for this occasion.

Tag: @Bravo, @Vehn @Master Selkath


OOC: Blame Bravo!

 

IC: Mary Formal, Nurse Ulrike, hijacked metrocab, spaceport
Location: Craci Prime

The girls listened to the response from whoever had pinged the comlink.

"Roger that, Live Free and Die Hard, Irresistible, and Safety. This is. . ." The female caller hesitated, "Tiny Dancer."

The two exchanged glances, not recognising the new call sign.

"Sounds like you, Masha, and the Class of Port Haven are no longer the New Kids." Ulrike muttered.

The comlink response continued. "Resource team is proceeding with mission, unknown Imperial orbital strike has occurred at Warehouse district. Ships spotted inbound from five contacts in the sky. Possible occupation. Any eyes on Lead for guidance or survival?"

"Negative, no eyes on Lead for hours, since before we started shopping." Mary reported, adding, "Have you tried calling him?"

Ulrike, pulled gently on her companion's forearm to bring the comlink to her, "We'll try calling him, and get loaded for wampa. Call us if you get any more updates. Irresistible and Live Free, out." She thumbed the comlink off, pocketed it, and started out of the vehicle. "Right, we dump this stuff aboard the Luck's Gamble, get proper guns, and prep for support roles."

The nurse hauled several shopping bags across the floor of the cab to her, her biceps bunching as she took their weight, and clattered noisily off into the night, leaving Mary to try emulating her, one-handedly.

"Mum!! Wait up!" She called out the open side door, balancing on the rim while holding on to the door frame with her one good hand.

* * * *
Luck’s Gamble interior

Within a few moments, the two were inside the starboard one of the landing struts-cum-s-foils that were large enough not just for to make the cruiser look like the catamaran for all seasons, but you could fit a service elevator inside if you didn’t want to wait for the entry ramp to hum down to ground level.

There was no elevator musak.

The door before them slid aside to give them access to the main corridor running parallel to the passenger/cargo area, with the cockpit somewhere to their left, and the engines somewhere to their right.

Mary and Ulrike dumped the bags against the far wall, Mary looking on as Ulrike picked a string-handled bag and unceremoniously upended it, the assorted wares still in their moulded-plastic packaging scattering over the deck.

“I’ll remind you of that when you are nagging me to tidy my room.”

Ulrike showed her the empty carrier. “We’re not staying long. When you are ready, I want you up at that pharmacy in the passenger terminal. We’ll be wanting combat bandages, painkillers, disinfectant bulbs, bacta patches. Fill the bag, then meet me back at the transport.”

“Roger that.” Mary nodded.

Ulrike headed for the cramped alcove that served as medical dispensary, but it was still largely bare from Captain Lasso’s charity during the unknown planet mission.

There were perhaps a dozen medpac-belts taken off the mercenary enemy on that planet, which would have to do until Mary collected better from that pharmacy.

The nurse opened a medpac to check the contents, finding a brief assortment that included, synthflesh, spray-bandages, coagulants, and a handheld medisensor.

She pulled a tan-coloured pouch belt from a wall cupboard, and separated out some of the items, segregating them into different pouches, and add the content of a second medpac, and gave the medisensor a pouch of its own.
The pouch belt was latched round her waist, almost concealed from sight by the fluffy flolds of her skirts.

A third medpac belt was swiped for the other Merc before trotting along to the cockpit, and sliding into the seat for the sensor station.

She wanted to find out what all or some of those five sky contacts that Tiny Dancer had mentioned, were.

Ulrike sighed at the risk of being detected. It was at times like this that she missed Firecracker. That woman would have known what was up there, the crew numbers, their husbands’, wives’ and kids’ birthdays, those of their limmie partners; she sighed again, and ran a passive scan of the heavens, and put the results through her databases.

“Frag!” She cried aloud upon seeing the response.

“What is it?” Formal’s concerned shout floated in from the metal-decked corridor. “Are you alright?”

“You’ll never guess what’s up there!” She turned her head to call back.

“Up where?”

“In the sky.”

“Clouds?”

“Well, yes, but apart from clouds, there's...there's an Assertor-class Star Destroyer. ”

“Ooh.” A humming repulsor-trolley preceded the silk-clad crewperson into the cockpit, bearing a pair of torso pieces of Model 210 personal armour, a pile of neatly-folded flex-armour, two E-11s, and a modest pile of spare power packs. “Well anything beyond Victory, Gladiator and Imperial-class usually means somebody’s compensating for something.”

Ulrike swivelled her chair to face the trolley, running her gaze over the gathered equipment. “Well, one thing’s for certain, they probably didn’t know the Mercs were here.”

Mary frowned. “How you figure that?”

“By all means, hunt us down; try to kill us, but," Ulrike sneered with the air of an affronted teacher, "do not bring your valuable sith to a Merc’ fight. Cos we will Frak. It. Up.” She pulled her Athosian Pop Idol t-shirt over her head, leaving in a crumple on the sensor panel, whilst she sat in her slightly tattered bra and leaned down to pull on one of the flex-armour vests, which she would then pull her t-shirt over.

The Model 210 armour looked more capable, but frankly if you didn't have Taab's beskar, anti-blaster armour was much of a muchness.

Better to go with the lightness and flexibility of flex-armour, and wearing it under her top, she could still look good doing it.

She took up an E-11, attached black strap to the barrel and butt, and slung it over her head so the weapon hung down her back.

The nurse briefly considered her madly-puffy petticoats for practical combat trousers, but looking like this allowed for an element of surprise when coming upon stormtroopers and espos, and this outnumbered, any advantage was to be seized.

Mary took her lead from the other woman, also choosing to wear flex-armour, though after a moment's consideration, realised that her outfit was too figure-hugging for it to go underneath, and had to settle for it going over the yellow dress.

She sat, kicked off her footwear, and putting down her new flower-printed wellies on the deck, slipped her feet into them.

"Oh, are you wearing those?"

"Meaning, you don't want me to wear them?" Mary smiled, getting her feet comfy, then transferring Roberta, her new Biker's Holdout Blaster from the thigh holster, to the moulded space for it on one of the boots, then stood to adjust her thigh holster to accept the larger E-11 blaster carbine.

She accepted the belt with its medpac from Ulrike, and tied that round her. "Alright, I'm done. I'll head out to the pharmacy. Want me to put the trolley and the rest of this stuff back?"

"Well, we don't really have time, but if we get everyone back aboard the 'Gamble, and have to lift in a hurry, best not to have this stuff cluttering up the cockpit. So yeah, put it back, but don't worry about being too neat storing stuff back on the shelf. You got a comlink, Live Free and Die Hard?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, go. See you back at the transport." Ulrike stood from sensors, crossed to and slid into Comms. She fired up the console, reverting back to her accepted Merc callsign. "Quagmire from Imotep, do you copy, Over?"

Tag: Lasso, Tiaca / Tiny Dancer

 

IC: Hutt Caravel, night sky over Craci Prime countryside
Location: Craci Prime


The speeding open-decked vessel was far above the ground, but nowhere near as high as the cloud cover, though it was acending rapidly, and moving forwards even faster, heading for some unknown rendezvous.

The bounty hunter was closer with his next lightsabre target, and if his bucket registered it, the drastic loss of power resulted in the dissipation of a force field, except at the opposite end of the vessel to which he had intended.

This second shield had activated simultaneously with the first, and protected a plain-looking brown hatch leading back to the engine compartments.

The conduit that Taab actually wanted to sever, would be a twin of this one, but not immediately visible.

* * * *
The Dep S

An alarm drew the attention of the security and reception crew, who looked at each other in surprise.

"Caravel lost a shield, the one protecting the engines."

"Interesting. Call up the vid-footage from the greeting droid, let's see what we are bringing in."

Interested eyes looked at holographic images showing a young human femme; male human, not much older, and the armour T-visored features of a Mandalorian helmet.

"Okay, this could be trouble. Should we abort?"

"No. We need the funds."

Tag: Taab, Masha, Sunri

 

IC: Winterkill
Near the Garrison grounds, CSA

Under the cover of shadow and stealth, he remained. Only the rhythm of his slow breathing and the steady beating of his heart could be counted as evidence that he was even there or alive. That’s how still the nagai was.

Patiently, he waited…and listened.

["This is Live Free and Die Hard. I'm...near the ship with Irresistable. We have ground transport secured. Over.”]

["Safety here. What's up?”]

["Roger that, Live Free and Die Hard, Irresistible, and Safety. This is. . ."]

A pause.

["Tiny Dancer. Resource team is proceeding with mission, unknown Imperial orbital strike has occurred at Warehouse district. Ships spotted inbound from five contacts in the sky. Possible occupation. Any eyes on Lead for guidance or survival?”]

The only call sign he recognized was Safety. None of the responders were the specific ones he desired to hear from. Namely, The Mandalorian, Havah Jeth and Captain Lasso. Hadn’t he gone with the robed man, the one pretending to be blind whom was suspected of being a Jedi fugitive? Did every mission had to be this disastrous? That The Mercs survived this long had to be one of the greater mysteries in the universe.

Suddenly, the com buzzed again.

["A little busy at the moment. You're going to have to put on your big girl pants and get out of your crib yourself.”]

Winterkill recognized the voice and the speech pattern. It was the mandalorian security chief. But what were those sounds in the background. Rushing air, some kind of engine or machine…and a….weird energy hum…some kind of generator? The sound of electric sparks was quite unmistakable, however. What was going on?

["Consider it a test to see if you are worthy of being a Merc.”]

There was something ominous about the way he said that.

[“Kind of a pass/fail sort of thing.”]

And just as suddenly, he was gone.

["Negative, no eyes on Lead for hours, since before we started shopping.Have you tried calling him?”]

No immediate response, so that meant ‘no’.

Winterkill’s frown deepened. True, he was concerned, but not overly worried..at least not yet. Captain Lasso was though, resourceful and cunning, and to his credit, even brilliant when in a pinch. That’s why Captain Taller had picked him as his successor. The man didn’t know when or how to give up, he always found a way to turn a situation around to his advantage. A real survivalist at heart. Those were just a few qualities that kept Winterkill as a loyal member to the Mercs. So he wasn’t about to count the captain out yet. The mandalorian had made a good point. The smaller teams needed to ‘up’ their ‘A-game’ under the current circumstances. In a way, Taab had issued a sort of challenge, which caused a hint of a smile to appear on the nagai’s face.

No word from Jeth and no sign of Tiaca.

No problem.

["Quagmire from Imotep, do you copy, Over?”]

The com went quiet again. The nagai was not willing to reveal his position until certain conditions were met.

Making up his mind, Winterkill decided to go on a quick reconnaissance mission. Getting intel on the enemy was deemed better than waiting for something to happen. Thus, still keeping to the shadows, the nagai switched his com to vibrate and made his way closer to the garrison. The city was in a state of emergency, so it was safe to assume that protocol would change. He would do everything possible to avoid patrols, sentient and electronic detection and get some idea of enemy movements. It was the least he could do.

You’ll get your supplies captain. Just come back to us alive.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto, Garrison GM

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Near the Garrison Grounds, CSA

Having left the establishment quickly after the end of the conversation he had sought out concealed spot to change into what the contact had provided. A good will supply shop fit the bill perfectly as he was able to go past the bored and uninterested youths to the changing rooms. The lack of surveillance beyond a low resolution camera was easily stymied by a brief laser flash in the otherwise invisible spectrum as he passed it. Leaving him to come out in his disguise and donate the now empty crate to the store.

Taking his tax receipt he left to meet the others at the contact location.

Arriving was simple enough, his new credentials got him through the check points unchallenged. It wasn't until he stood waiting with a clear view of the designated corner and the Garrison that he began to feel a little bit stifled in his get up. Seeing Winterkill strutting about in a minimalist uniform in comparison didn't help matters. Although the main test would be to see if there was any spark of recognition from Winterkill when he stepped out of the rickshaw and approached him.

As Winterkill made his way toward the Garrison a well dressed Ualaq raised a thick three fingered hand out of the rickshaw as it got up and waved to Winterkill, "Excuse me," it began in a gravely and rumbling voice, "Are you the person I am waiting for? I was promised a technician for my compliance survey of the Garrison...I suppose if you know your stuff you would do." The Ualaq blinked it's four eyes slowly as it stared at the Nagai, it's tusks unmoving.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: General Preeminent Hilick Soal
Private Communications Room, Assertor-class Dreadnought Darkest Night, High Orbit over Craci Prime, Craci System


The Private Communications Room was just aft of the bridge and adjutant of Hilick Soal's personal quarters; the Holograpic Chamber was sealed by double blasted doors, which were flanked by a pair of Imperial Navy Troopers around the clock, every day. In fact, this small adjutant room extremely secured, because a single side blast door lead to Hilick Soal's personal quarters, which meant this small area was flooded with security cameras and sensors and two hidden retractable blaster cannons hidden somewhere in the walls; on the opposite wall facing the entrance to the Holograpic Chamber, a single console with a crewman in a gray uniform was monitoring all high priority messages from other Imperial commands transmitted to the Darkest Night (and recording them) that might warrant the General Preeminent's immediate or later attention, screening Hilick Soal's incoming transmissions for priority assessment, and providing on-site electronic anti-virus and anti-ease dropping / spy assessment, and maintenance of the Holograpic Chamber. Furthermore, another double blast door was just ahead, closing off the whole area completely to the corridor outside of the bridge, where two additional Imperial Navy Troopers stood sentry around the clock (every day) as well.

As the double blast doors closed behind him, Hilick Soal rushed to the holograpic projection pod and knelt down. An over sized facial shot of Grand Vizier Sate Pestage came to life overhead.

"At your service, Grand Vizier," Hilick Soal said with his head bowed.

"Rise," Sate Pestage said, then added, "Report."

Hilick rose, "Everything is going as planned, Grand Vizier. The Craci System has been effectively blockaded by the Corporate Sector's Picket Fleet and my immediate available Imperial assets have blockaded Craci Prime, the third planet in the Craci Star System. After a dispute with the local Territorial Administrator, I have ordered the rest of Acklay Squadron into the system within the hour."

"I am sure you have already been made aware that the Executive Viceprex of the Security Division has contacted Imperial Center?"

"Yes, Grand Vizier. A bold move on his part."

"Bold, indeed. He demanded to speak to the Emperor himself immediately about several Imperial Star Destroyers entered Corporate Sector space and were conducting 'aggressive operations' against civilian targets. I told the fool he would have to speak to me or his situation not be heard at all before the Emperor. Such a fool to be so bold as to demand the Emperor's attention at such an hour in the morning! But, we saw this bold action coming. But not of the Executive Viceprex's bolder move of ordering three Victory Star Destroyers into defensive orbit against your orders around Craci Prime. This is a bold move indeed."

"What is the Emperor's feelings towards our plans thus far?" Hilick Soal asked, wanting to get a greater view of the overall galactic picture.

"He has approved them or you would not be conducting them, General Preeminent. Your boldness in command has won much approval and favor from the Emperor and from within the Imperial Court. But, beware of egos, General Preeminent. Such envious creatures inhabit the Court and have the Emperor's ear; if you step wrong, you could see your career very quickly vanishing. Cloak and dagger is the way of the New Order's elite. Respect is earned, General, not given, even among the lairs and thieves of the Imperial Court."

"Do I have your blessing then, Grand Vizier, to continue the operation as planned?"

"You do. The Corporate Sector Authority has grown too audacious with it's power the Empire gave to them. It is time we re-institute Imperial Law and remind them who put them into power. And please dispose of that Mr. Vortex. His imaginary visions of power and riches are more then imaginary, unfortunately. Mr. Vortex is a bold man, too bold. He cannot be controlled like the CEO of Millennium Entertainments could; we need someone who can support the New Order, not derail it with his Free Corporate Sector speech."

"Does Vortex threaten the Imperial Court that much?" Hilick asked, already knowing the answers to every possible avenue of this question, but wanting to gently probe the water while he could without drawing too much attention to himself.

"Threaten? No. But if one of the largest backers of Imperial authority and law---the Corporate Sector---starts to embrace this Rebel-minded trash of freedom from a dead and overly corrupt Old Republic who killed itself before the Empire rose and brought order to the chaos, then the Rebel Alliance will have very large and powerful backers of influence that could---however highly unlikely---start to influence the Core Worlds. It is better to handle a virus now, then allow it to grow."

"Understood Grand Vizier," Hilick Soal said, "Your wishes are my command."

"And General. What will you do if those Victory Star Destroyers pose a threat to your operation?"

"Grand Vizier, I have the integrity of the whole Empire and of Imperial Law riding on my decisions. I will protect Imperial interests how I see is proper for an Empire, not a backwater planetary government."

Sate Pestage smiled thinly, "Good. Very good, General."


TBC

 

IC: "He" and Alexander Zat
Less fortunate areas, Nar Shaddaa


"So," Zat said, his arms crossed over his chest, as he leaned up against a console along the left wall, "Do you care to enlighten us? Or do we have to play the twenty questions game?"

"Well," Special Field Agent Bonds said in a causal way as he emerged from sleeping quarters on the opposite side of the room with a duffel bag in hand and a blaster rifle in between the handles, "That all depends on how fast you want to leave. The Hutts know your here----they know you two are carrying lightsabers. It is only a matter of time before they put two and two together for a sizable profit margin and contact the Empire. So far, they haven't, since the equipment in this room would have detected any message with certain keywords in the message."

"Okay, so we have time. For now. But why the game----already?" Zat asked, highlighting the fact that Bonds was already playing the stalling game. So far, the Jedi did not sense any deceit or lies from him. In fact. it was hard to read him at all, but that much was clear. He wasn't lying to them. The man's mind, like any field agent's, had been well conditioned against such mind reading tricks and all Zat got from him was a series of nursery rhymes and random, but ultimately useless, facts about world populations and land speeder engines.

"Master Zat, the House of Royal Intelligence has not survived---or been so successful---over generations and generations because we preceive and adjust to threats we see. We assume everything, from that door nob being a listening device or a sensor recorder of some type. And we adjust our speech, accordingly, while in the field. Now---"

Suddenly the room was basked in a red glow; "He," who had been reading the various flat holo screen displays, looked around and then back at Zat, who shrugged.

"Not good," Bonds said matter-of-factly as he raced from the floor console to the back holo screens along the wall, "Not good at all. He typed in a few commands on the console board under the multiple holo screens against the back wall and the screen that was flashing yellow around the edges suddenly filled the whole screen wall; it was a holocam view from a orbiting satellite. It showed local surrounding space traffic frantically adjusting course this way and that. As the crowd of starships started to thin out, in the distance, Bonds saw their reasoning: it was Darth Vader's Executor. Strangely, without an escort.

"I thought the Executor was in the Yavin System, blockading the Rebel Base there," Bonds said out-loud.

"And I thought your equipment would detect any communications leaving the planet," Zat said in reply.

Bonds shook his head, "That Super Star Destroyer is here on it's own accord. Not by the calling of anyone here."

"Then," Zat said matter-of-factly as he straightened, "it appears Vader's spies have tracked us here."

"But why you? And why here?" Bonds asked.

"Because, Vader has more then one agenda," Zat replied flatly, leaving it at that, "We better leave before Imperial forces arrive in strength."

"Yes," Bonds said, walking over to one of the floor consoles and arming the self destruct, while also removing a data card from the console and handing it to Zat, "Don't loose this," hitting a few more buttons, Bonds said, "Okay, lets go. I have transportation arranged. They'll be here shortly."



TBC

 

IC: Umbaran
Floor Four Hundred Eighty-Three ("VIP Floor"), Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime


The black clothed alien put the white sheet back over the body of the deceased Storm Commando in the hallway as he got back up from kneeling; yes, they had failed. Their mission had been to eliminate certain loose ends. The orbital strike had taken care of everyone at the docks; the paid off Espos had taken care of the rest, with certain "agents" mixed within their ranks to ensure the rest were taken care of. Somehow, this one had escaped. And somehow, he had taken care of an elite squad of Storm Commandos.

No, this was no normal mercenary. No, something was different here. Very different.

The shattering of glass at the report of a car crashing into the windows on the floor gave an alert to what was going on below. The alien walked calmly to the window as three Stormtroopers rushed there as well.

Another car, on another level. The alien looked out the broken window edges, watching as a robbed figure ignited a lightsaber.

Yes, indeed, this was no normal mercenary that had escaped. A Jedi would not be so foolish to come at so many Imperial troops unless he had a plan. Who was the Colonel adding to the payroll?

The Umbaran smiled. Yes, Order 66 had been suspended recently, the Emperor thinking the threat of the Jedi had been reduced enough. But that didn't mean Stormtroopers weren't giving standing orders to obey Order 66 if a Jedi was encountered. And, that didn't mean the Umbaran couldn't enjoy a little sport once in a while. Jedi were a challenge, a good stretching of one's abilities.

The alien simply turned to the Stormtrooper before he departed, leaving for the turbolift with three Stormtroopers in tow. Another Stormtrooper joined the other three at the window, while the remaining two Stormtroopers remained on guard duty on the floor. As the alien stepped into the turbolift, he could hear the blaster fire from the four Stormtroopers. Their aim would be sure and deadly.

As the turbolift descended, the alien got on his comlink, "All Imperial forces at Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, we have a confirmed Jedi outside. All forces, remain at your stations and assigned duties. CompForce squads Five and Six, please engage and terminate the Jedi. All forces, be on the lookout for possible enemy targets trying to gain access into the hospital to rescue a certain VIP target believed to be wearing Espo clothing."

The alien put the comlink away as the turbolift reached the ground floor and two CompForce squads were rushing out the front entrance to meet the robbed man; the alien turned to the Stormtrooper Sergeant, "You know what to do."

The Stormtrooper nodded and he and another trooper departed to the lower levels of the hospital, leaving one Stormtrooper with the alien as a bodyguard.

The alien calmly walked deeper into the hospital, leaving the distraction----which is what the Jedi was truly doing---to the pawns of this galaxy, while he himself made his way to find this mercenary. Time was of the essence now.


TAG Hospital Rescue Group

OOG: Rescue group, you have four Stormtroopers firing on Grey's character from a raised elevation and two CompForce squads rushing to meet him head on. All other Imperial forces are maintaining security assignments. Good luck trying to get in.

 

IC: Charlie Watertin
Light Corvette (imagine), Outskirts of the Cadomai System (Grid Coordinates R-3), Outer Rim


Charlie was wondering how much more the poor Ensign could take as he delivered a final right hook to the battered officer's face, the officer's body finally slumping to the ground.

"Duck!" Yelped Wa Yay, as she leveled her E-11 Blaster Rifle at the two Imperial Stormtroopers who emerged from the room a few meters down on the left, across from where Charlie had been beating the poor Ensign.

The first laser bolt snapped over Charlie's head, barely giving enough room for the man's hear, as it blasted into the first trooper, his armor exploding with fire and smoke on the chest impact. The trooper fell down in armor clattering sound and in the process knocked his comrade backwards a bit as he moved to get around his comrade for a better shot. The trooper had to use a hand to push his falling comrade off of him as he side-stepped past his comrade's fallen form, and snapped off a shot one handed with his E-11. All Charlie saw was Wa Yay roll---the trooper's blaster bolt flying over her sudden smaller form---as she neared him; the Stormtrooper had now regained his balance and had both hands properly placed on the blaster carbine. But the Gossam female was already out of her roll and had her blaster carbine leveled at the Stormtrooper. Her blast found it's mark and the trooper fell backwards onto the floor with a upper chest / neck shot.

"Well," Charlie said matter-of-factly as he withdrew his cigar and exhaled happily, "That was fun."

Wa Yay smiled.

Music.

The two walked down the corridor towards the bridge. It was a good day to be a Merc.

End Music.


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


Bridge

Charlie was waiting impatiently out of the hologram's view as Wa Yay was finishing up.

"...like I said Pirate King Zoko, we thank you."

"No, no," the Gungan pirate said while shaking fat cheeks, "It is you who we shall thank! You have given us great wealth in this Corvette's cargo holds and Stormtrooper armor and equipment! We shall deposite their captured crew somewhere...desolate," the Gungan showed a toothy smile, shaked his fatty cheeks with slobber going everywhere, then his voice got grave and dark, "But, Pirate King Zoko only warn you once! If you enter into my space again, my pirates and I shall kill you! This agreement only one time," he said, holding up a single finger to make a point, "because of your great leader, Captain Rick Taller! No more friends after this! Our debt with his Mercs is now paid!"

Wa Yay nodded, "Once again Pirate King Zoko, we thank you. And we'll make sure to give the Empire a double beating on Craci Prime for harassing your legal operations out here on the Rim."

"Legal!" the Pirate King laughed, "You are funny! Very funny! Okay, we go now! No more friends!"

As the hologrqam vanished, Charlie watched out the bridge viewport---and on the sensor readout---as the two heavily modified Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruisers moved off of the now captured Imperial Light Corvette, one departing from the bow, one from the aft. Soon, they disappeared into hyperspace in different directions.

"You don't seem happy," Wa Yay said matter-of-factly as a pair of Merc half gray and half yellow B1 battle droids dragged the last remaining dead Imperial crewmen out the bridge, "Considering this was your idea."

Charlie shrugged as pushed himself off of leaning against the nearby console, "Should I be? Pirates ruined my life. I only did this because I knew Zoko owed Taller. And considering I worked for Zoko's rival for a few months years ago, I knew where the old bat would be hiding. He's a creature of habit and if he can hold onto a piece of territory, he'll do it. It seems like he upgraded himself since I last saw him though, he probably used his cutthroat nature to either buy out or brutally takeover my former pirate employer in the area. I'd be surprised to hear if the local Talzon Space Colony is still around, considering Zoko's impressive armament----he had to hit something big to cash in on the credits for those Bulk Cruisers. I doubt the local Imperial Garrison on Cadomai Prime had enough resources or firepower to handle the attack. Or maybe they just didn't care. Or the Empire doesn't care. Heck, this Light Corvette is the only Imperial vessel I have seen anywhere in this area of space and we had to bait her out with a escape pod and distress signal."

"If you want to get technical about it, the Empire has a single Victory I-class Star Destroyer in the System and two Invincible-class Dreadnaughts in System."

"Ah," Charlie said, not sounding impressed, "Where did you get that? A classic and rustics catalog?"

"No," Wa said, "This ship's Imperial computer. I figured the information would be up to date, considering it is used to help defend this system."

"Well," Charlie said, walking across the bridge to the pilot chair, "We better get going. With Zoko's communication jamming ability gone with those Bulk Cruisers, we are going to be sitting bait here when the Empire decides it wants to come take a look for us when we won't respond to hails."

"They are already headed here. Looks like one of the Invincibles are headed this way, ETA two minutes per sensors. They are trying to hail us."

"Master Chief," said a Merc crew member who had just entered the bridge, "All dead Imperial bodies have been ejected, ma'am. As well as hull debris that Zoko provided us from a crashed Light Corvette. The ship is secured with the droids on patrol in the interior with two Super Battle Droids standing sentry outside the bridge and engineering for security detail. The B1s are patrolling the ship, ma'am."

"Good," the Master Chief said to the Rodian, "Make sure you leak some reactor fuel into space and eject some of those escape pods. Make it as believable as we can to stall the Empire."

"Yes, ma'am," the Rodian said and left.

The Mercs had boarded with a small crew of six people, all skilled blaster hands. The rest composed of 12 B1 Battle Droids and 4 B2 super battle droids; the Mercs found this transportation over here by Zoko and the Pirate King had helped with a small party of 12 pirates who, after helping to dispatch the Imperials, busied themselves with getting the wealth off of the Imperial Corvette into one of their Bulk Cruisers.

"So," Charlie said as he brought the Light Corvette around for a hyperspace jump, "What other goodies does that Imperial console tell you about this area of space?"

"Hyperspace coordinates locked," said the one other Merc on the bridge----a male human---manning the navigational station; the other Mercs were throughout the ship, including two Mercs was in engineering and one patrolling the ship.

"Well, that Zoko's pirate gang has indeed grown. He has a third Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruiser, three Interceptor-class Frigates, and four GR-75 Medium Transports."

"I can tell you at least one of those frigates was the command ship of my former employer and at least one of those GR-75's."

"And Charles," Wa said, "Talzon Space Colony was destroyed a month ago. According to reports, both of those Invincibles responded to a distress signal from the colony. When they arrived, it was too late. Looks like Zoko's gang was responsible for the hit. Three civilian converted Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruisers were dropping off supplies and passengers. The escorting security company had two CR90 Corellian Corvettes and several Z-95 Headhunters, but it looks like they never stood a chance. Zoko hit them with those three frigates and all of those GR-75s, plus starfighters."

"Explains the Bulk Cruisers Zoko has now and how he was able to upgrade them so well with the loot he took. Any survivors?"

Wa hesitated, "Charlies..."

"Dang it, Wa, tell me! Any survivors?"

The Master Chief shook her head, "No. After Zoko brought the shields down, they---"

"Enough," Charles said, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"Everything is ejected and set, ma'am. Reactor fuel burned out," came the Rodian's reply over Wa's comlink.

Wa didn't respond and instead said to a quiet Charlie, "Charles...are you okay?"

"We have a job to do," Charlie said sternly, deflecting the question, "We're Mercs."

Soon, the stars turned into elongated lines as the Light Corvette jumped into hyperspace.


TBC

 

IC:Ahab Nem ascending/ waining Mahaben
Craci Regional Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime

And so, they all took the bait, myself included. There was no victory here today.

The robed figure remained where he stood. He could see them all, points of flickering lights in the force, soon to be extinguished. The tainted aether grew even hazier with dark intent, suffused with dark polarity. The feeling…was totally galvanizing. An irresistible seduction.

Two enemy squads and a handful of fools too eager to be sacrificed.

Under the dark shroud of his hood, Ahab laughed at them-these inferior creatures. How they boasted of their betrayal. You were only able to slaughter those who had been duped into trusting you, those who were none the wiser to treachery most insidious. Had they known of your plan, you would all have been slaughtered instead.

“My eyes…..are….open…..”

Two squads, roughly twenty soldiers give or take, were coming forth to take firing position. They fancied themselves executioners, like those clone soldiers so many years ago. But there was a marked difference with this scenario. They were not shooting someone in the back. No, this was face to face.

Ahab smiled.

The four soldiers on the elevated level thought they were relatively safe from harm. Good, this was the age of self-deception. Why stop now. It would be amusing to see someone try to shoot from behind. They would be surprised as to how much a blind man could see.

{…the hound returns…the sweeter her disappointment. Extinguish the Je’daii within…only then…your chains will be broken. This…is your destiny.}

For now, Ahab managed to ignore this abyssal and disembodied voice. He would be no ones puppet. But the surge he felt….it was undeniable.

A myriad lances of crimson light erupted - almost simultaneously-and rained down like fiery arrows towards he who was clinically blind.

But what were these to him? A Force user. Had he not faced an almost innumerable army of laser spewing droids during the clone wars? Where were they now? He, who’s senses were open, who was at the center of his being, whose ally was the force….He, who could fluidly move between Schii-cho and Shien as if they were one?

The world seemed to slowdown all around Ahab, but when he moved…it was with a speed and grace that was both fierce and fluid and controlled. The blue blade itself was almost impossible to track, save for the blue streak it left behind its wake. Over twenty bolts pelted down on the ex-jedi. He danced, he was the whirlwind as he spun, spiraled, flipped, evaded, his blade always deflecting, never ceasing to intercept the lances in his path. The blue glow that clung to his robes effectively nulled any bolts he chose to ignore in favor of a critical target. Every bolt he deflected back, was meant to fully incapacitate.

All eyes were on him. How long could he keep that up? Surely they had him pinned. Or did they?

Motion.

Another vehicle streaking through the air - it’s path was clear. A gift for the soldiers ‘safely’ firing from the elevated level. For those on the ground floor; they blinked. One second the robed ‘jedi’ was a sitting duck, then in a flash, he was right there in their midst. His weapon still created dizzying blue patterns of light as it sliced unimpeded through the air…and through armor.

The jedi. The former guardians and protectors of the galaxy had been too trusting and naive. Now they were all dead. Their Order silenced. Purged. What exactly did that mean for the new generation of force users? For the galaxy?

Yes. For now, he was bait. A fugitive. The bane of the new order. The enemy had little choice but to fall for it, however, so did he. But at least Ayres, Boras and Dak had a much better chance of infiltrating the complex during the chaos visited on the hospital’s ground floor. These fools would be forced to send for reinforcements to deal with the ‘jedi’…as planned.

Resistance for the infiltration team on this level, if he could hold their interest, would be minimal.

The miraluka was ready to win, even if he had to lose, though there was much more to his plan. Unfortunately, the enemy also knew a bit of what he knew.

There was always a price to be paid for success. This, was a universal truth. So the question remained. Who, pray tell, was made to pay.

‘yes….the…umbaran…’

TBC/Tag: @Vehn, @Master Selkath, @Bravo, @Intervention
OOC: …hum…I think I got carried away again.

---

IC: Winterkill
Near the Garrison grounds, CSA

He picked up the sound of the approaching rickshaw long before he casually looked over his shoulder to appraise it. At a glance, it didn’t look as if it posed a threat, at least not to an unassuming maintenance worker. Noted, the city was in a state of alert, and the rickshaw was not traveling at a speed of one who would be fleeing a catastrophe. It was rather a leisurely pace, come to think of it. One that did raise a measure of suspicion. The ‘timing’ of its appearance was equally suspicious to be mere coincidence.

Winterkill slipped a hand inside his overall and grasped the ensconced blaster. He would need to be quicker on the draw should this happen to be some sort of assassin. Otherwise, the vehicle should pass by without issue.

The sound of the vehicle drew ever nearer at a steady pace. He was able to calculate the exact moment it would be upon him. He visualized himself smoothly firing upon a potential assassin. No words were ever exchanged, just a flash and the kiss of death.

In order to exploit an advantage, he turned as if surprised by the rickshaw. This, of course, was a natural reaction. To his surprise ( which would be imperceptible to the observer), an alien got up and waved at him-specifically. True, both hands were visible, but it didn’t mean the alien didn’t have another means of dispensing death.

“Excuse me…” It said. The nagai appraised the strange looking alien at a glance. He’d never met this species before, which actually heightened Winterkill’s threat response protocol. It had a rumbling voice, which could be used as a distraction as he forced you to listen, instead of remaining alert for some sort of legerdemain. Assuming that was its intention. What were the chances of anyone other than Havah Jeth coming to him at this exact moment. Of all the rotten luck!

“Are you the person I am waiting for? I was promised a technician for my compliance survey of the garrison…I suppose if you know your stuff you would do.”

The creature blinked its four eyes. This creature was far more unprepossessing than ‘Brahms’. BUT…the words it had spoken; waiting for person, promised survey of garrison. The incredibly ‘bad timing’-should this be some sort of mistake. But was it? Could it be?

There was nothing of the arkanian present here, at least on the obvious level. The mix of words, the ‘timing’ and Winterkill’s modest awareness of Havah’s impenetrable infiltration skills ( he was a master of misdirection, which was quite enviable really) almost convinced the nagai, as the possibility dawned on him, that this was indeed, Havah Jeth.

Still, he would need confirmation. Otherwise he would have to kill this creature. Obviously it knew too much.

Using the sign language only the nagai and the arkanian used during covert mission, ( he had to let go of his concealed weapon to do this, but stepped within striking range ) Winterkill signed and made an inquiry of the alien. Havah would respond accurately, wether verbally, through signing or some other method he would understand. If this was some kind of shadow agent, only one of them would be walking away. No one was around to be the wiser.

< Where’s your bounty hunting friend? She’s a very unique…individual. Almost a perfect match for you.>

Winterkill finished and offered the four eyed alien a cold smile.

The sirens in the distance almost sounded like that Funeral March he liked to listen to now and again. How very curious.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Havah Jeth / Tiaca
Outside CSA Spaceport, Craci Prime

The Ualaq blinked it's four eyes again and moved it's hands to tap the three fingers together as it stared at Winterkill expectantly. "It is not polite to not answer, if my guard I had leased was here I would have her pistol whip you for insolence." Huffing the alien turned it's head slightly as it looked toward the droid driver. "I am representative of BoSS, Bureau of Ships and Services. Now you seem smart and brooding but please tell me you at least understand basic!"

At the end of the aliens tirade a soft thud could be heard from the street at an alley, where a figure all donned in white shortly emerged with a hand resting on an unsnapped blaster resting in it's holster. Walking up Tiaca looked at the two and had to sigh at what the Sephi considered adequate coverage when going into an enemy strong hold incognito. The fact that she could not recognize the other gave her some semblance of hope. Although the green and cream patterned robes the alien was wearing hid most of it's body beyond face and hands she instantly remembered a bounty for a Panda Boba, a different species but the similarities in appearance brought the bounty to mind.

Nearing the pair she noted the other denoting it's presence as a BoSS officer and insulting the Sephi, she had no qualms about that. Although considering how her comm calls had terminated after short exchanges she was hoping this would be a more smooth operation. Still she had to guard the Sephi if it needed it for now, not that it did, but if Havah was here or was going to show up she could not not show interest in the others well being.

"Ah, there she is. Pistol whip this fellow would you?" the alien called, to which she quirked an eye brow and drew out her blaster as she came near.

"You certain?" she asked calmly as she came up an arms length from the Sephi.

"Well, if he doesn't answer, yes." Six eyes turned to look expectantly at Winterkill. Albeit four were expressionless, and two were enjoying this far too much.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: Sydney Ayres
Craci Regional Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime

"Tell me everything, blind man," Sydney remembered asking Mahaben.

Sydney had seen the Umbaran. He'd seen the plethora of Imperial stormtroopers. He'd seen just how impossible this mission would be now that the Empire's soldiers garrisoned the hospital. He hated to admit it but he felt like all was lost. They would never get Lasso out now. There was too much in the way. Too many guns, too many soldiers, too many obstacles, just like his frakking life. He gave in to his own fear and felt like he had betrayed his team, betrayed his friend, betrayed all those he had known that he had ever cared about. There was no way he could shoot his way into that facility. No way. He lowered his head in defeat. He couldn’t move. He was frozen to the ground, hands clutched tightly to his blaster rifle, to his few possessions, to fleeting memories that refused to go away, to nightmares, to torment, to all that was wrong with the galaxy.

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting brought him out of his misery. For a moment his mind didn’t even register the sound. The buzzing hum seemed so foreign to him, so distant, for it had been a long time since he had last seen the weapon of an ancient order that was all but extinct. He turned to face the sound as he discerned that the noise was indeed real. Shock rippled across his face as the blind man now faced down the soldiers of the Empire, the mortal enemies of all that good stood for, fought for, and had died for these many years since the ending of the Clone Wars. Here was the burning blade of an extinct order. Here was a blind man, full of courage, full of faith, despite not being able to see, standing up for what was right, for what had to be done.

You’ve got to move, Syd. You’ve got to move. He’s buying you time. He’s providing you a window, an opportunity. Don’t back down now, man. Just hang in there. You’ll be fine. You’ve been in combat before. You remember the blood, the smells, the fear. Harness those feelings, focus, focus, Syd, just focus. You have to move, Syd. Your friends need you. The galaxy needs you. Breathe. Ayres thought as the battle in his mind slowly was being won.

Sydney stood as blaster bolts sizzled hot all around him. Some were close, some were not. Some hit the dirt underneath his boots and screamed a slow death while others bounced off surfaces that sent the shot anywhere and everywhere. He stood because he was in shock. Here was a living, breathing, Jedi. He’d seen one while serving aboard the Open Circle Fleet during the Clone Wars. But that had been from some distance. His mouth hung open as if he were enjoying a stimulating show. And what a show it was. With a grace, a beauty, a fluid motion, Ayres watched as Mahaben cut through one trooper after another. Arms were dismembered, the cauterized stumps glowing in the low light, and the screams of the wounded and dying hit him hard in the ears like the boxing matches of his youth. Yes, there was a twisted sense of beauty here, of a time long past, of a time when people killed one another at close quarters.

Sydney gathered his wits and charged forward at a run. Past the swirling arcs of Mahaben’s lightsaber, past the death rattles of dying Imperial soldiers, past the semi-accurate blaster bolts, past the carnage, the chaos, the misery. He had a job to do. He had to kill the power. That would keep the Jedi alive. That would keep Lasso alive. He spotted his way into the hospital through a broken down section of wall that one of the crashed cars had created. He rolled to the ground, fell into the corridor that went underneath the hospital, and adjusted his eyes to the long, flickering light of the hallway. Ayres knew he was near the service panel. Not just any old service panel. The service panel. The conduits running along the floor and ceiling of the hallway told him so. They were thick, which meant they carried a big cable, which could only mean one thing: electricity. More screams from the battle outside. More electrifying sounds from the cuts and slashes of that ancient weapon and still he soldiered forward. The sounds of battle faded away as he moved deeper and deeper into the heart of the hospital. The basement was filled with old medical equipment, disabled droids, artificial limbs, and all manner of paraphernalia that the hospital no longer wanted. Why they hadn’t junked this stuff was beyond him.

A gentle thrumming sound caught his ear. He opened a nearby door and saw that he had been rewarded handsomely. Here was the room that controlled the power. Here was the room that would determine who lived and who died out there. Sydney knew a thing or two about electricity. He quickly found the appropriate service panel and read through some electricians scribbled hand-writing on the breaker box. Yeah, that was doing nobody any good. He had to start guessing now. There were so many breakers. So many choices. Which one? He remembered the power systems aboard the capital ships that he had serviced decades ago. For all their advanced technology, their advanced systems, the main power grid was quite simple. That was so repairs and maintenance could be a speedy process. Nobody wanted to snake their way through miles of wire, service tunnels, and dead shipyard workers to find the problem to a particular electronic issue. When in doubt, turn it out, so the saying had gone. And so there’d usually been only a few main switches for the entire system. Of course, on starships, that was heavily guarded. But here in this hospital…

“What the hell,” Sydney grunted as he reached for the lowest breaker, the one that looked old, and slightly worn, as if the hospital had experienced electrical issues before.

He flicked the switch.

Tag:Bravo;greyjedi125

 

IC: Winterkill
Near the Garrison, CSA, Craci Prime

The alien had not only claimed not to understand the nagai’s signing, he had also issued a threat, one to be carried by by his absentee hired guard, while simultaneously leveling an insult.

In his mind, Winterkill opted to use one of his blades to finish the job. The flash caused by a blaster could likely call unwanted attention. That’s when another figure appeared. No, there was nothing coincidental about this. The nagai’s cold smile widened.

Tiaca sauntered over with all the grace of a professional Twi’lek holo dancer. The four eyed alien claimed to know her as he ordered her to follow his command to strike the nagai.

She seemed to play along, intimating that she would do exactly as directed.

Would she try to pistol whip him?

“Well, If he doesn’t answer, yes.” The four eyed alien rumbled.

Two against one, eh? Hmph!

Tiaca already had her blaster in hand and had allied herself with the alien. How surprising that she would choose to become an ally to his 'opponent'. This was the nature of the snake, to betray. The same alien had no visible weapon, so it was likely that it wore some kind if armor ( but unbeknownst to both of them so did Winterkill ). In that case, he’d have to stab it in the eyes and kill it quickly, and perhaps use its dying body as a shield. What’s more, perhaps this was one of Havah’s impromptu tests, to see if he was still sharp, if he still had it. As usual, the timing could not be worse, which was partially the point.

So, this was a power game on the smallest scale. So, all he had to do was answer?

And answer he did. He signed again.

< So, If I were truly mute and unable to answer you verbally, what then?>

Winterkill cocked his head, but as he did so, his body relaxed. His cold smile did not leave his face. The question was a completely valid one, especially in their line of work. Winterkill imagined a response being a question, something along the lines of ‘what if one could not understand sign language’, which would mean he understood the signing in the first place.

Zero stance. It was a completely neutral attack stance that allowed a striker to react quickly and without telegraphing his moves. It was an echani technique. No doubt Havah Jeth knew it, and quite likely Tiaca. This is what their eyes regarded after the nagai had issued his silent answer.

Wasn’t the mission a priority? Apparently not anymore. And what about foot patrols? One could be approaching them at any given moment.

Fine, so be it then. The game was afoot, and everyone was playing to win, no matter what their odds.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto

 

OOC: The show name, Gemima Kyle Show, based on the Jeremy Kyle Show, although the contents are vastly different.

IC: Gemima and Kyle (nrcs), Merc Crewperson Mary Formal, Craci Regional Medical and Surgical Centre, and Spaceport Passenger Terminal


The female Togruta with her bold yellow and blue fleshy montrals and braintails, stood to the side of one of the ground level entrances of the hospital, having responded to the inferno disaster within the warehouse district, and had trailed the Espos bringing the few casualties back here, although then they had been prevented from following.

Gemima knew the apparent VIP had been ensconced at least on the floor four hundreds, but any information outflow had then stopped.

Her husband Kyle, formerly a Togruta like herself, had been critically wounded covering a war zone on another world, with her, and either his family, or his will, had had his brain moved into a nutrient globe and mechanical mobile assembly not unlike that of the Bo’Marr Monks on Tatooine, but fixed onto a droideka frame that his family happened to have laying around.

The droideka was fixed with high-definition holocam recorders instead of blasters, and could either move slowly on the jointed needle-like legs, or roll very fast in the manner of the Clone Wars’ era battle automaton.

Kyle tap-tapped aside as two squads of highly disciplined CompForce troopers, in padded semi-armour and peaked tan caps, expanded out of the sliding double doors, and gazed across the dark flats of the vehicle park.

Gemima had singled out the team leader, the human male with stern pale features, jaw fixed like a holomovie star.

“So, what does CompForce stand for?”

“Well,” the team leader was saying, standing with hands clasped behind him, just outside the doors, which tried to open and close spasmodically because he was standing too close to the detectors, and she did not want to interrupt him to say, “the comp bit is actually the acronym COMP, as in COMPNOR, meaning Commission for the Preservation of the New Order. COMPForce is the armed branch, as it were.”

“I see,” she encouraged, then ducked involuntarily at the sound of something smashing into the hospital exterior behind the man, he and his men spinning to look up at the noise.

“There’s, there’s a speeder in the window.” One of the troopers observed in awestruck tones, as the familiar double-tones of a Theta-II anti-theft alarm warb-warbled into the night.

Gemima gestured to her husband, encouraging him to get an angle on the landspeeder.

“I suppose that is a daily hazard building such a tall structure so close to the spaceport.” The lead Imperial observed, trying to sound all worldly and wise.

“What, cars lose the ability to double park?” Gemima queried. “No!” She cried as another vehicle caught the light from the windows as it arced up from the ground and slid down the sides of the tall structure. “Frag off, that was thrown!”

She was close enough to hear the team leader’s comlink issuing orders.

“All Imperial forces at Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, we have a confirmed Jedi outside. All forces, remain at your stations and assigned duties. CompForce squads Five and Six, please engage and terminate the Jedi. All forces, be on the lookout for possible enemy targets trying to gain access into the hospital to rescue a certain VIP target believed to be wearing Espo clothing.”

Gemima’s violet eyes widened at the news. A…a jedi?!

The team leader pulled on his sidearm, a Blastech DW-5, she noted, raising his other arm to rally his troops. “Squad Six, with me. Five, spread out behind us into flanking positions.” He looked towards Gemima. “Ma’am, stay back.”

* * * *
Spaceport – Passenger Terminal


Mary had left the Luck’s Gamble five standard minutes before, sprinting lightly towards the long, several-storey structure that supplied the spacers whose craft were berthed here, with several amenties and shopping opportunities.

Her new wellies were proving quite the stealth item, the gripped rubber soles providing near silent footfalls even at a run, which proved useful when she braked within sight of the main entrance, spying the pair of white-armoured Imperial stormtroopers on sentry duty, almost silhouetted in the light from just inside the doors.

Being armed, and the former victim of an Imperial planetary blockade, she didn’t want to risk them legitimately, getting recorded on their helmet cams.

She crept round the sides of the long building, invading the flower beds in the search for a ground level window that was not totally secure.

After a further five minutes, she spotted a likely candidate, the interior looking like a typical staff room for one of the stores serving the ground floor shops.

Mary put the nail of an index finger to the window pane, and carefully scored a near circle into the glase, large enough to get a fist through, and finger-flicked the shape, flipping into the room while she inserted her good forearm through the hole, found and released the latch, and opened the window.

She looked left and right for sign of any patrols, put the empty shopping bag inside, and one-handedly, hauled herself up and inside, the bottom rim of the window frame biting into her posterior as she got one leg inside, then lifted herself up to bring the next one in, step out of the compact metal sink, the back of her dress riding up her back as she slid to the floor.

"Stormies or no," she muttered as she tugged the back of her outfit down, and looked around, "I'm going out the fragging front doors; not doing this sith again."

Her eye caught sight of a battered television set showing a robed figure in an anonymous car park armed with some kind of light sword, batting away red laser bolts. Just as she stopped and focussed on the sight, the action was blocked by a silent blue screen showing the Imperial logo in black, and claiming to be ISB Justice - Reporting Restrictions.

The idea that news footage was being jammed by the Imperial invaders did not escape her. "Okay, where on Flitter was that, then?" She wondered aloud.

To be continued...

 

IC: Atin Taab
School Bus, crater, UIS Mines, Craci Prime, twelve klicks from Imperial occupied spaceport

"Captain, you wanna tell them about the no-smoking sign?"

Atin paused momentarily, his father wouldn't have appreciated the joke, but then he rarely did. Atin though smiled behind his faceplate. "Obey the no-smoking sign. Smoking..."

"...kills."

Atin shook his head slightly, clearing away the old memory and bringing himself back to the present. Things had gotten more complicated, and Yav needed to hear about it. "The chief mentioned a rather large Imperial," Atin paused as he looked for the right word, invasion seemed likely to cause a panic right now. "Presence is incoming, we may want to beat feet." He knew his buir would have been able to convey that message in some sort of code that only he and another Merc would understand, but Atin had to be more direct about such things. He also knew that if there was an invasion coming the Mercs were bound to get into the middle of it, and that meant his father would be causing trouble, and probably loving it.

TAG: Sith-I-5

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Hutt Caravel, night sky over Craci Prime countryside

"Shab!" Taab hated this as the sparks cleared and he noticed the shield around the airlock was still up. He peered back down into the cut open access panel. He could continue to hack away like a drunken rancor at anything that looked like it might be important, but that was a way that could get them all killed. Well probably not Taab as he would just jetpack off this party wagon if it looked like it was going to crash, but losing Masha and Sunri like that would be a mark against his professional record. That Taab wouldn't abide. Perhaps it was time to be more subtle.

He looked around the open deck of the caravel. It was obvious that the conduit he had severed must go somewhere...but where? For the first time he noted a a small, and unprotected brown hatch. He didn't know where it led, but hopefully it could provide them an alternate route to Masha. Or it could be a trap that would further split them up. It was a risk they would have to take. The lightsaber still humming in his hand he called out to Sunri. "Where does that hatch go?" He pointed at it with the jetii'kad (lightsaber) before returning his attention the access panel, deciding on which cables to cut next.

TAG: Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65, Sith again.

 

IC: Havah Jeth / Tiaca
Outside Garrison, CSA

As Winterkill persisted with his mute act, probably devising how to kill the Ualaq if he didn't get a satisfactory answer Havah shook his head, and so to did the Ualaq. "Can I whack him now?" asked the over eager voice of Tiaca, unfiltered as it was for the first time to Havah's ears he merely stared for a moment longer as Tiaca withdrew her pistol to do just that.

Shaking his head his altered voice echoed out, "We can not waist the time, tests in trials bears the greatest truths. If but a mute or deaf, this would never hold the job it has without some form of adaptation. So it is merely a fool, that would waste opportunity for possibility." shaking his head the disguised Havah Jeth waved away the droid that drew the rickshaw and with a wave motioned to the Garrison. "This old Spook is disappointed."

"Are you sure you don't want me to whack him?" Tiaca pestered.

"No, but we haven't time for such scenes." The Ualaq moved off trusting his companions would follow. Had he really neglected that aspect of Winterkills training so much? As for Tiaca, she had the training but none of the proper experience. Why did he keep making his life more interesting? It wasn't like he even liked the Captain.

TAG: greyjedi125, Bravo if you want to do the CSA

 

IC: Winterkill
Outside Garrison, CSA, Craci Prime

“This old Spook is disappointed.”

Those words were the only thing that mattered, nothing else did. Most especially the snake.

Havah Jeth was by far his greatest mentor. He could reason further, deconstruct better, and read a situation so well, he always seemed to be a hundred steps ahead of everyone. If he could be a tenth as good as his arkanian mentor…that would be a real achievement. Winterkill could count the number of beings who’s opinions mattered to him on the four eyed alien’s hand. Havah had the top spot, there was no doubt about that. To disappoint his mentor was worse than being shot by an Imperial firing squad.

Winterkill’s pale face had once again become an unreadable mask. Ignoring everything and everyone else, the nagai nodded his head deferentially at the alien before him, whom now he knew to be Havah Jeth in disguise. When the mission was over, and after he’d had time to play back and studied the scene in his mind, he would seek his mentor out with the correct sequence of actions and answers. Perhaps Tiaca was meant to be his final test in his training. Only now did that notion occur to him.

As it was, the particular failed lesson would have to wait for much later.

The four eyed alien now moved ahead, and so, he silently followed. Winterkill gathered his bitter feelings and used them as a focusing lens to boost his mission acumen.

They all had roles to play, now that the mission was actually underway. He was looking forward to this now. Perhaps he would get to blow-off some steam in the process. His dark eyes searched all around the trio, eagerly wanting to spot a patrol, or any other form of detection. A maintenance worker, a BoSS representative and his hired guard, (Winterkill had no doubts that Havah possessed proof of such an identity. What was more, it was now clear that Jeth and Tiaca had knowingly planned their joint identities previous to this meeting), would they seem terribly out of place at this time, considering the city-wide alert? Did the four eyed alien have a scheduled appointment?

The answers would be revealed soon enough.

No details of how they would proceed at this point were discussed, which was fine, and not truly necessary. The overall plan had been already delineated earlier and the floor plans studied, along with a sequence of events. Now it was time for their specialized skill sets to come into play.

It was time to do some real work.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, near "Downtown"


The music flowed through the staircases. It was clear someone was having a really, rally bad day. But heck, Lasso wasn't going to complain. It gave him something to sing along to----good thing this was like a shower, no one was watching.

Or so he thought.

Lasso's booted feet echoed throughout the confined spaces as he finally came upon a sign he loved to see: Floor 400: General Support and Labor. That meant turbolifts to supply the rest of this part of the hospital.

Lasso went to open the door.

"Hutt's mother," Lasso said, realizing the red strip along the card swipe meant it was locked but for access, "But hey, look here," Lasso said out-loud to himself as he rediscovered the swipe card from the Espo Trooper when he was once known as 'Sergeant Green'.

Lasso swiped the card and entered.

The blue collar floor, with equipment lockers, half-finished mechanical repairs left on work tables, and personnel lockers stuffed with grease work clothes was sparingly busy with a few organics, who all couldn't hear him over the roar of their respected work projects.

But that wasn't the case for all. One, a towering Wookiee, stood up to his (or her) full height from a nearby crate where the alien was taking a much needed coffee break. The Wookiee growled, which brought the attention of the whole floor to rest on Lasso, blaster rifle in hand.

"Hi," Jason said sheepishly.

"And who are you?" asked a Dug, turning around from a work bench where he was repairing a medical droid.

The others in the room----a human, Devaronian, and a Givin---all stopped their work and turned to face Lasso.

Lasso's comlink went off, "Quagmire from Imotep, do you copy, Over?"



TBC

---

IC: Dak
Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, near "Downtown"


Dak laid the CompForce Trooper's body against the wall gently. Despite their sizable number, four, Dak was able to take out the light, the camera, and four troopers before a single shot was fired or an alert sounded. It was clear this was one half of a nine man squad, the other five members of said squad most likely guarding the side maintance door down the hill and around the corner. After all, this was simply a back door for grounds maintance crews. While not considered a "high priority," verses a cargo bay entrance or main entrance, the Empire was smart enough to realize that any illegal insertion would be done through a smaller entrance, not a larger one, and had placed troopers here. The hospital, henceforth, was smart enough to had put a security camera here, but now all was useless.

While none of the troopers had a security swipe card to gain access, Dak didn't need that as he simply punched through the metal door, undid the lock from the inside, and gained access. This was a hospital, not a military complex; doors, even "secured" ones, would not be that hard to break into. And usually civilian based sensors weren't designed to detect a punched door, unless illegal access was gained from outside. Dak bypassed it all by unlocking the door from the inside.

No alarm.

Dak walked through the door, a long, barely lit corridor, lay ahead. The droid closed the door behind him and walked down the corridor.


"Dak here; I have access, lower level. Proceeding on mission. No alarms yet," the droid said over his comlink as he walked down the corridor.

Then the lights went dark.


TAG Intervention, Rescue Team

---

IC: Tech Specialists Ronnie the Xexto, Herdferd the Toong, and Otter the Nosaurian
Security Room, Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center



They were jokingly known as the Three Musketeers by their human and alien counterparts in the hospital. Even most of the doctors knew them. They worked the overnight shift and were the life of the hospital, often times putting on random music from around the galaxy. They were your security team, watching tirelessly the hundreds of cameras around the hospitals and monitoring the sensor input and outputs. They were both the private security force and the Espo Troopers main point of control for anything security related throughout the hospital. Some of their greatest dirt on people were the hidden cameras that only they and the hospital administration staff knew about; the hidden staircase cameras had caught more then one illegal theft or other activity.

"Breath Herdferd," Ronnie said matter-of-factly as he calmly surveyed the monitoring screens, keeping a keen interest on the recent arrival of the CompForce Troopers who now blockaded the hospital's entrances and exits---not to mention the prior arrival of Stormtroopers. And now, they seemed to have a Jedi. Between bigot CompForce idiots, the Emperor's personal shock force troopers, and a once thought dead order's member standing outside in the rain with a lightsaber, the three of them had all rated tonight's action better then the time they watched a whole galactic-spanning illegal spice operation for three months being conducted within the underground maintenance tunnels of the hospital. A course, they were recording evidence for law enforcement, but watching such a high profile drug operation through a hidden camera was quite amazing. Especially the high planetary profile clientele, including a very local Imperial Governor who somehow avoided being thrown into the slammer. In fact, he was still the Imperial Governor here! Go figure.

"I'm trying," labored Herdferd, a Toong, through a brown paper bag as he sat up against the back wall.

"You always get too excited about these type of things," Otter said as he kept a blaster rifle trained on the two tied up (and knocked out) helmetless Stormtroopers who had been giving them orders since they arrived; some trooper from the "Command Post" down in the Emergency Room called the Stormtroopers again at the five minute mark, asking for a status update, "I love being a Techie!" Otter said happily as he held up a palm sized device to the upturned Stormtrooper helmet; the device emitted the precise Stormtrooper's voice and operating number, along with a 'all clear' message on precise Imperial terminology, as to not give any evidence towards a fake; it was a piece of equipment that was illegal, usually reserved for spy organizations for major governments. Otter had made it at home. As the all clear was given, Otter turned his attention back to Herdferd, "You were saying?"

"I don't get excited," Herdferd said as he breathed harder into the bag, "I just get nervous. Like nervous about the fact that we are going to all die or be sent to the Spice Mines of Kessel for doing this to Imperial Stormtroopers! Probably just shot. Oh no!" the alien cried at the realization of his crime against the Empire's Stormtroopers.

"Probably Kessel," Ronnie said to egg his poor friend on, "You know, prolong the suffering, then have us killed in our sleep."

"Or spaced out into outer space after suffering," Otter went on.

"That could probably work too," Ronnie said,trying not t laugh.

A throw up sound could be heard from Herdferd as he lost his dinner into the bag.

"Looks like someone is breaking into Section Seven's backdoor. I disabled the alarm. Looks like a protocol droid of some kind," Ronnie said matter-of-factly as the camera went static moments after the light over the door went out; luckily, the camera had night-vision on auto in such events. Ronnie had got just enough video time to see it was a droid.

"Part of that Jedi, you think?" Otter asked.

"Oh yea," Ronnie said easily, adding, "I'm putting up a false alarm in Section 7's second floor, that should thin out some of those CompForce idiots in the area where I think the droid is headed."

"The backup computer core?" Otter asked.

"Bingo," Ronnie said, "And once I use my remote access toy I build on the main power system, we can overload the emergency back-up power that secretly feeds a constant source of power to the security cameras and alarms. I'll be able to direct where I want the power surge to go---and to what systems---and bingo, the alarms in that area will be toast. So once the droid takes out the local Espo force, hopefully as fast as he did those CompForce Troopers outside, no one would be able to call for help. And I've already disabled the comm system in that room; I rerouted their call route to the laundry room. In fact, I did that last week when they lost the Sabacc game to us. Since they sleep on shift all the time down there, they clearly haven't discovered the switch yet."

"And after we help these would-be rescuers of that man your human your following in General Support and Labor, what then? Its not like they won't find out it was us after they do the investigation."

"Well," Ronnie said, "I figure since we all hate the Empire, we minus well join this Jedi and their cause. Its better then the firing squad at this point. We made our choice, its time we pick a side in this war."

"War!" Herdferd wailed, "We're going to war!" the alien threw up again.

"He'll need a bigger bag," Otter said matter-of-factly.

Suddenly the lights went dark.


TBC
OOG: I'll explain in more detail tomorrow the lights going out on the Imperial side of things. 4 hours of sleep is catching up fast.

 

IC: Havah Jeth / Tiaca / Garrison
CSA Garrison, CSA

As Havah walked forward in his constrictive suite he had to admit that the stench of the Lomin Ale was a nice touch in the end as it covered up his own sweat inside the thing. Crossing the way he could feel the multitude of sensors sweeping their bodies as they approached, each vid pulling up a three dimensional compilation of their forms to be able to have a complete render in case they were enemies. The arches they were about to pass through to reach the front doors undoubtedly had weapons scanners, meaning they active weapons of blasters and any heavy duty vibro weapons were now documented. Something he calmly signed right before they passed through them.

Unchallenged they reached the doors to which Havah looked at Tiaca and nodded at the doors. She stepped forward and banged four times. It was a good thing to wait and listen until a slid back to reveal a vid screen. The human displayed on the other end looked to be exceedingly young, which was probably their greatest deterrent. The kid would be so hide bound from the academy that it would take an act of the senate or a superior to let them in.

"I am sorry, the Garrison is not accepting visitors at this time." The human male, ensign or whatever stated. It was a practiced dialogue.

"Then it is good we are not visitors. I am inspector Piabo from the Bureau of Ships and Services, here to perform a surprise inspection." the masks voice modulator was working flawlessly. Still he was keeping aware of his companions.

"I-I am sorry sir, there is no record of your visit scheduled. Please schedule a time with the commander. . ."

"Do you know who you are talking to? BoSS is beyond all such definitions of government and you do not want to be the reason why this system becomes grounded, or your next transport lost to the void. Now, it wouldn't be a surprise inspection if I made an appointment now would it son?"

"N-no sir, but I am not authorized. . ."

"Well then get someone who is before I have to report your non-compliance!"

"Sir?"

"You heard me!"

"Yes, sir!"

With that the line went dead and the cover slid back into position. "Now we wait?"

"We wait." Havah replied. How he hated these types of missions.

TAG: greyjedi125, Bravo for CSA input

 

IC: Sergeant Major, BS-1118 "Animal"
Floor 400: General Support and Labor, Craci Regional General Medical and Surgical Center, Craci Prime


"Copy Lieutenant," Animal said over his helmet comm system, "I have a squad with me now. We'll take him. BS-1118 out," Animal turned to his fellow eight Stormtroopers stuck in the cargo turbolift with him as they neared Floor 400, "Okay men, lock and load. Watch your fire on civilians. Play it casual, we don't want to spook the civs."

This being a interior op, Animal had most of this squad he borrowed from the platoon arm themselves with E-11's for close quarter combat, but along with his T-21 and two others, he had them armed with a DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle and a RT-97C Heavy Blaster Rifle---it never hurt to bring in some extra firepower into a close quarters fight.

Soon, the turbolift doors opened and the squad of Stormtroopers walked off, as cool as day, but their moving helmets told a different story.

The place was a workshop alright; equipment lockers, half-finished mechanical repairs left on work tables, and personnel lockers stuffed with grease work clothes was sparingly busy with a few organics, who all couldn't hear him over the roar of their respected work projects. A Wookiee labored over a dismantled piece of medical console equipment put besides a work table, while a Dug, human, and Devaronian labored over three medical droids at other tables.

The workers stopped when they saw the Stormtroopers.

"We're just doing a security check," Animal said, adding, "Have either of you seen a human wearing an Espo Trooper's uniform?"

The aliens and human looked amongst each other, shaking their heads.

"No, sir," answered the human for the group.

"You won't mind if we take a look around then, will you?"

The human shook his head, "No sir. There's two others on the floor, another human and a Givin, but no Espos."

Animal started delivering hand motions and the squad spread out, leaving one Stormtrooper armed with the DLT-19 standing sentry at the cargo turbolift.

While one half the squad took the equipment lockers on one side of the room, Animal took three Stormtroopers armed with E-11s with him to the personal lockers. It was seven rows deep and twenty lockers long with bench seats along the middle of each row. It was clear this place served as a staging area for local maintenance techs to regroup, meet, and roam the hospital for repairs as well. Animal split his unit up, sending two Stormtroopers along the far side along the wall while he took a Stormtrooper on the other side near the where the open work area separated the personal and equipment lockers on either sides of the large room. Several refreshers were against the far back wall with a staircase exit door there as well in the middle of the back wall with two cargo turbolifts up at the front of the room where he and his squad had exited off at. A employee break and snack room was along the back wall behind the equipment lockers.

Seeing the far back door as a security concern, Animal sent his Stormtrooper ahead to secure it. Soon, the trooper was there in a small jog. Animal continued his search, keeping pace with his two Stormtroopers along the far wall. So far nothing, which was a shame, because both Animal and the Lieutenant had narrowed down the "Sergeant Green" sighting and resulting stunned Espo Trooper in the VIP weapons locker---in which case a set of weapons and clothing were missing---to this certain VIP for Section being now very possibly out of Espo clothing, since a set of Espo clothes were left in the VIP weapons locker. But, that was just a guess.

Animal scanned each row, his eyes dancing on a trained pattern to look for someone. His interior comm came to life, it was the Stormtrooper he left back at the turbolift.

"Sergeant Major, the employ log is checked. There should be five employees on this floor."

"Five, roger. And the human said there were two extra including the four already at the work area. Break, all units listen up. We have a imposter on this floor. Proceed with caution. We collect all of them in the center of the room."

By instinct, he brought his T-21 to his shoulder and armed the weapon, a low wine emitting at the action. Through all the hard Sith he had been through in the Clone wars and serving a young Galactic Empire----through all the battles---he wasn't jittery or excited. He just simply acted, as he had been trained to do.

Turning the corner of the next group of lockers, Animal brought his T-21 to rest on a Givin who was changing out of his work clothes and into civilian clothes. With two other Stormtroopers on the other side, the Givin started looking nervously between the two sets of troopers.

"We're just doing a security sweep," Animal assured the terrified looking worker, "We need everyone to head to the middle of the floor and---"

The lights went dark.

It took a moment for the helmet's lenses to auto-adjust to night-vision. "All units report!" Animal demanded, seeing his two Stormtroopers sandwiching the Givin between him, seeing his other comrade still at the back door, seeing the trooper at the cargo lifts.

All units checked in.

"Hold your position," Animal ordered, then switched to the command channel, "Command Post, this is Squad One, we have lost all power on Floor Four Hundred: General Support and Labor. Please advise."

"Squad One, Command Post. Be advised that power to the whole hospital has been lost. Back-up generators are slowly coming on in critical areas only. Your floor is not critical and will have emergency lights only."

"Squad One copies. Emergency lights only on Floor Four Hundred: General Support and Labor. Command, be advised we have a confirmation of one possible VIP target on floor. Searching for target now."

"Command copies, searching for possible VIP target. Command clear."

Just moments after Command was cleared of the signal, that's when everything went to hell. First it was the blaster rifle sound, then it was followed by, "Contact! Contact!" by one of the Stormtroopers over by the equipment lockers. Animal turned around, his now green vision showing the bright light blaster bolts flying from within the locker complex over there, that was a jungle of vertical and horizontal rows for different sized and type of equipment.

"117 down! 117 down!" Reported a trooper, who's own return blaster fire could be heard over the comm traffic.



TBC

 

IC: Espo Pilot Thord, AT-RT driver (nrcs), Mary Formal, building across from Imperial Garrison, Imperial Garrison exterior, Spaceport passenger terminal
Location: Craci Prime


Thord forced himself to calm down as he crept down the carpeted staircase at the back of the building to the second floor from the roof.

He had already cleared the top floor, kicking in doors to apartments and confirming that the occupants were not sniping the Imperial Garrison across the street, and he had inadvertently mown down a resident who was out in the hallway in his white undershorts, collecting ice with a plastic bucket.

After that incident, the Espo had forced himself to calm down, and switch his riot gun from full auto to something a bit more civilised.

There would be no trouble from Security Division, he was sure, but the Empire, particularly if they took over the functions of SecDiv, who knew what they would say about it.

Thord held the blaster carbine out ahead of himself as he carefully descended the stairwell, looking out for the next landing, then something shook the building as if something had impacted the place, and he found himself pitched head first down the steps, putting out hands and tucking his head in an attempt to protect it, and his neck!

* * * *
AT-RT driver

CO-179, riding his All Terrain Recon Transport out through the gates, quickly noted a difference in attitude between the local garrison stormtroopers, and those that had come down on the ships from the recently arrived star destroyers.

His colleagues had resisted the temptation to fire into the crowds, in reply to the small arms fire coming their way, and a dozen scout troopers were forcing their way through the gathered Lollipop Lady and Crossing Guard Alliance “protesters” to try to get at the actual shooters.

By sharp contrast, he knew that the visitors had reached one of the base’ turbolaser turrets, when a thick lozenge of bright lime energy crackled overhead to slam into the building opposite, gouging a chunk out the front in the vicinity of where that rocket had come from, half a ton of rubble and some furniture avalanching down into the street.

CO-179 scowled behind his helmet; who knew if the rocket-man were still in the same apartment!

The trooper stopped, his mount likewise pausing, swaying ever so slightly on the thin metal chicken legs, eg. the knees faced backwards to provide balance to his open cockpit pod.

The forward sensors had picked up something along the energy fencing, to the right of the main entrance.

Now he could see the rickshaw with the multi-armed alien standing on it, talking to two…relative humanoids on the pavement.

If they didn’t move along when asked, he’d have to light them up, taking out that rickshaw with his mortar.
Then, just as the thought of all that wood shrapnel raining down brought a smile to him,
the rickshaw moved away, towed by a wheeled droid that he had not noticed before.

Ah, bums. Then he spotted the feral dog below him, getting too close to the walker’s legs, and he had to take drastic action with the controls to step aside, avoid squishing the thing.

Voooffff!!

Streaking a smoking trail back to an open window in the the badly damaged apartment building, behind him, a second HH-15 torpedo passed close by his mount, turned the too-slow rickshaw into an expanding cloud of wood chips and fire, which lit up the night, and obscured his sight of the RIC-920 droid that had been pulling on it.

Several of the protesters at the gates, though more than fifty metres from the destruction, screamed and fell as they were struck by flying debris.

“Control, I’m taking fire, I repeat, taking heavy fire!” He moved the RT-PT to aim the nose down the street, preparing to lope away to a safer angle, where he could return fire from.

He could no longer see the three beings that had been around the destroyed vehicle, but frankly he had other things on his mind.

Tag: Havah Jeth, Tiaca, Winterkill

* * * *
Spaceport Passenger Terminal


Mary made it out of the staff room and found herself in a clothings store, with random aisles between polished metal racks of colourful Sullustan fashion in flowing, hard wearing fabrics. Which meant it would be resistant to damage from rocks, such as that culture's subterranean cities, and you’d be able to brush sand and gravel out of it easily.

She quickly made her way through and out of the shop.

Since she did not try to take anything without paying, her passage through the front of the store did not trigger any alarms, despite the blaster carbine and holdout pistol she wore fairly openly, and as she stood on the artificial white marble of the walkway, she turned to look up at the shop name: Chinue, and a bracketed message in smaller font explained that the name meant “God’s Gift”.

“Learn something new every day.” She muttered, and headed off, craning her neck to keep an eye out for the pharmacy she had been sent to, and other stormtroopers.

There were a smattering of other shoppers, male, female humans and Near Humans; the occasional exotic species, such as that six-foot stalk of green-and-white celery with the thick leaves for arms, browsing the windows of a shoe shop.

“What the drokk would you want with shoes.” She murmured, well out of ear-, or whatever it was using, -shot of the thing.

Various shops were against the interior walls, fronted by glase and chrome, while the next level up, what she could see from her angle, had an array of restaurants and eateries.

She could not immediately see a pharmacy, and started to look out for one of those “You are here” wall map thingies.

It was very wide and spacious in here, she noted. If the Johnny Boy lost another wing again, she could definitely see it fitting in here.

The Merc wandered through the bright, clean space, her shopping slapping lightly against her legs, marvelling that there was no sign here of the chaos and panic going on outside. This place was like an oasis of commercial calm.

“Feth Pantolomin, I’m coming here for a holiday. Ooh!” This last exclamation was because her eye had caught the stylised F of the http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/File:FastFlesh_Medpac_logo.png]FastFlesh[/url] Medpac logo up on the second level. “Ah-ha, thought you could elude me, did you?” She grinned after thumbing her comlink to ensure it was off, not wanting Security Chief Taab to overhear her doing impressions of what she thought he sounded like during a successful bounty.

The four femmes she shared her crew cabin with, all thought the enigmatic Mandalorian was "dishy". Something to do with the armour and permanent helmet, she assumed.

Her imitations of his helmet voice-filter always seemed to go down well with them, and she looked for opportunities to fit in.
Plus, once she realised that it wasn't a precursor to someone's head exploding, she couldn't get enough of hearing people go "squee."

Formal took the staircase steps two at a time, and sprinted up to the Port' Med Supplies store, pleased that it was still open to patrons.
She’d be able to fill the bag, and be back with Ulrike in no time at all.

Tag: no-one

 

OOG: After communicating with Mitth_Fisto, we are changing around his character(s)' location due to a misunderstanding. Don't worry, its not like we tied him up to a chair and forced him to...or did we?


IC: Imperial Intelligence Officer Zack "Papa" Zukes (aka, informanly, 'ZZ P')
Imperial Governor's Palace / Garrison Base, Craci Prime, Craci System


Being one of the busiest ports in the Corporate Sector, but moreover being so close to Imperial space in the lawless Outer Rim of the Galactic Empire, the Empire had decided to maintain a military presence on the "capital" planet of the Craci System, but left the policing of CSA space to the Espos. While outwardly, the base was little more then a reminder to the Outer Rim of the Empire's authority over the galaxy in a lawless region of space---the closet Imperial military presence of any strength being in the Cadomai System and most of that "presence" holding together ships better fit for target practice then military action---it was also a reminder to the CSA to keep their ambitions to a minimal while regarding Imperial rule and authority. After all, the CSA was allowed to exist because of the Empire in the first place. While militarily speaking, without nearby Imperial forces to assist, the Garrison Base---which had also been modified with the Governor's Palace's addition---was militarily useless, acting little more then an advance warning outpost---granted heavily armed---against threats to the Empire's boarders from the edges of the galaxy. But, to Imperial Intelligence, it was a priceless gem of strategic importance in defending the Empire against seen and unseen threats.

While the base was staffed, mostly, with as close to mediocre Stormtroopers that the Stormtrooper Corps could produce, it was staffed nonetheless with soldiers of the Empire that were, even at mediocre, better trained and equipped then even the best trained fighting forces in the galaxy. Even at their worst, Stormtroopers were still the elite of the galaxy. But, Zukes would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that the Retrieval Team sent for the Governor was about as polished and precise as any Stormtrooper outfit he had ever seen.

Even with those polished Retrieval Team beauties to drool over, Zukes knew that this Garrison had it's own little special surprise that Imperial Intelligence kept very, very, very secret. Not only had the base's normally strong communications and sensors arrays been upgraded to top secret prototype equipment that could reach 25% further, the base's Intelligence Officer pool was made up entirely of veterans and officers who knew what and how to look for trouble against the Empire. Most of the Agents had spent time in the field outside of a desk and a small portion of the agents were from Special Intelligence (like Zukes himself) and they even had a team from the Imperial Scouts based out of the base to----

BoSS agents were notorious for being highly motivated to the point of stupidity---but they got the job done. Stupidity, in this case, being that a BoSS agent and his team were wanting to do their jobs in the midst of hostile military action from across the street! Okay, Stormtroopers were brave, but BoSS agents had to be given their do too.

But, as Special Intelligence Officer Zack "Papa" Zukes rubbed his military gray hair back before he put his dress officer's cap back on his head, the rambling Imperial Army ensign's (who was part of the Army's Perimeter Support Troops assigned to the base) report made sense. The local BoSS office was located in the spaceport just up the road a few miles from here; given that the Imperial Scouts arrived back in system yesterday in a unmarked freighter that, as usually, took a very secretive route back to base from outer space, it was possible---however unlikely---that this was a new BoSS crew just trying to do their job, admittedly a little bit over zealously.

As an increased report of blaster was suddenly heard from the outside garrison's wall and a limp Imperial Army Trooper's body came crashing down in front of Zukes from a watch position above on the wall, the officer was reminded of the inherit dangers outside of these walls. "Take these two troopers and let them in!" Zukes ordered, signaling two Imperial Army Troopers to join the young Army Ensign, "It's getting hairy out there! Get them to Conference Room A, I'll be there shortly."

It looked like Zukes would have to weave one of those fancy Imperial Intelligence stories to cover up the tracks for the Imperial Scouts. No matter, if the story didn't work, an unfortunate death during hostile enemy action always filled in the paperwork nicely to avoid questions of several BoSS agents not being seen from again.

As the Army Ensign and two Troopers ran off to let the BoSS agents in, Zukes grabbed a running by technical support person; the intelligence officer pointed at the dead Imperial Army Trooper's body and up to the watch postion accessed by a ladder up ahead, "Where the hell are the shields!? I'm losing men here!"

"Shields are up, sir!" the tech struggled back, "But we're having power feed issues and sections of the shields are coming on and off randomly. We finally have a handle on the situation and are restoring shields to full strength."

"You better tell that to this trooper's family!" Zakes barked back and pushed the technician onwards to whatever he was doing; technicians, desk jockeys without the desk, as Zukes saw it. The soldiers did the dying, the technicians just made the excuses as to why the soldiers did the dying.

Seeing several Perimeter Support Troops setting up two E-Webs by the main entrance doors, Zukes pointed and called out, "Move them up! And get some barricades in front of them!" Seeing a nearby Stormtrooper squad run by, Zukes grabbed the Sergeant's attention, "What is your mission Staff Sergeant?"

Seeing Imperial Intelligence's logo on the dress uniform, the Stormtrooper knew his place immediately, "Perimeter defense along the central wall, sir!"

"I'm redirecting you Staff Sergeant. Call up another Stormtrooper squad, I want two squads set up in support of these two E-Webs immediately. I'll make sure Command approves the redeployment."

"Yes sir!" the Stormtrooper replied and started ordering his squad accordingly.


TAG Mitth_Fisto
OOG: Mitth, you have the Ensign and two Imperial Army Troopers greeting you at the door to let you in. The two E-Webs and Stormtrooper squad will not interfere with your progress to Conference Room A, so as long as you don't do anything to prompt them otherwise.