Star Wars OPEN Paradoxical Echoes: An Original Trilogy Game (Always Accepting New Players)

IC: Commodore Peter Englewood
Passenger Transfer Tube, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over moon near Lepsawn 1-9


Commodore clapped his hands together excitingly as he bounced down the steps from the catwalk that lead down from the above corridor connecting the two hanger bays of the Star Destroyer. Even the two Imperial Navy Troopers standing sentry at the end of the connecting corridor between the two hanger bays did a double take as the Commodore looked anything but an Imperial Officer!

A collection of brown colored worn cargo pants tucked into black military boots, a tan-colored short-sleeve t-shirt covered by a black best; a black blaster belt with a DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol strapped to his right thigh (and several pouches on the belt for various items and ammunition, including a water canteen & field rations) and a right shoulder to left hip bandolier with ammunition for his A280 Blaster Rifle (hanging off his right shoulder with a shoulder strap) rounded out the look. A combat helmet, black tactical fingerless leather gloves, and a battered-looking chronometer on his left wrist provided a final touch.

The Commodore-turned-Rebel grinned as he descended the last few steps of the catwalk and to the hanger floor, admiring the collection of Imperials before him looking anything but Imperial.

"What a group of scum and villainy! Yes, yes," Peter said as he admired the group a moment longer before walking towards a nearby Lambda-class T-4a Shuttle (interior diagram), "This should do nicely. Well," Peter pointed to the shuttle, "All aboard! I'll discuss details en-route to Lepsawn 1-9. Navigational Officer Markova, if you would please take the pilot seat. Warrant Officer G'Spaugh, the co-pilot seat. Master Chef Voss, the Gunnery Station, I'll take Systems Ops Station. Lieutenants Baille Harte and Alex Qipao19, take passenger seats."

Once clearing with hanger control, Markova had the shuttle dropping out of the Star Destroyer and blasting across the dead cold of space towards the planet. Two TIE Fighters escorted the shuttle from behind.

It would be a short trip, roughly 27 minutes, so Englewood would take the time to debrief his away team. Ahead, the planet of Lepsawn 1-9 continued to fill the forward cockpit viewport as the shuttle got closer.

"Okay people, listen up," Englewood said as he positioned his seat at the Systems Ops Station to see both the cockpit stations and the passenger seats in back, "You've all been selected for various reasons for this mission. Make no mistake, we're going to be doing something risky. We are going planet side to the capital city of Lepsawn Central. There, we will be acquiring a general transport with no Imperial markings, but one in which was captured from enemy forces earlier in the day and in theory, the security codes should still work to gain us access past their defenses. From there, we'll be taking it to that Golan II Space Defense Space Gun up above the planet's North Pole. Once there, we'll board the station, steal sensitive data from their data banks, and disable the station's major weapons. Once that is completed, we'll leave the station and allow the Darkest Night to move in against the station, hence reducing our combat losses during a direct assault. Typically, we would tap a commando unit for this operation, but I feel that a more natural look of freedom fighters verses military rigidness with commandos would do us well to fit in to the station's criminal and shady population. So, act casual, people. These aren't the military types, except for a handful of Rebellion forces here and there.

"We'll have several additional operations aboard the station, but those will be secondary once we gather more intelligence on our surroundings and enemy forces. Lieutenants Harte & Qipao19, you'll be in charge of destroying the station's starfighter compliment, but also securing us secondary transport if our primary exit is eliminated. Warrant Officer G'Spaugh, you'll be in charge of accessing their communications network and causing outright havoc with it. Markova, you'll be with G'Spaugh, but you'll be in charge of disabling the station's navigational and environmental systems. G'Spaugh and Markova, you'll also need to slice their data core to get any sensitive data you can about their operations. Voss, you'll be with me; we'll be going straight for their ammunition stores and see what damage we can do there. Any questions?"


TAG Sith-I-5 ; The Vanguard ; Mitth_Fisto ; galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Surgeon-Commander Debgate, Main Hangar.
Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9

Surgeon-Commander Debgate, wearing a breathmask, watched from the open portside blast doors, as the last pair of medical cocoons filed past her on the way to the nearest sick bay, and the small cadre of rad-troopers and fire-suppression droids continued with the clean-up.

The droids had noticed the ash and alerted Hangar Control, who in turn had scrambled the Rad Troopers, the latter only too keen to have something to do!

It was they who had moved her to the side, and provided the breathmask; and now they were hoovering up the ash, and sterilising the bay for safe use.

"Must have been an inferior thermal detonator," She thought, staring absently at the barely visible wheel tracks, really only noticeable from her angle because of them reflecting the opposite wall's vertical lights, where an MSE-6 mouse droid had come in too fast, skidded through blood and bodily fluids, hit the depression in the deck, rattled down through crater, past the exposed the power conduits, and fallen into the recreational swimming pool on Deck Three. "they're not supposed to leave ash behind!"

Satisfied there was no more for her to do here, she wheeled around and headed through the doorway, and stalked along to Auxilary Medical.

She would have to assign radiation check duties to a couple of her personnel.

Her thoughts turned to Baille for a second, and smiled, thanking the Tribunal that she had kept the girl clear of the incident. She had been thinking that the youngster did not have to see the worst of the injuries, but that had worked out as regards this further complication as well.

Tag: no-one

---

IC: Baille Harte, Alex Qipao19, Forward Shuttle Hangar.
Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


Baille looked with concern at the grey-eyed girl who had one hand up to her own shoulder.

She had opened her mouth, presumably to respond, but then shut it as soon as the Master Chef had walked in and asked about rifle tests.

Baille was used to the cook being standoffish around her, having seen him amiable with mess hall staff and patrons when she had walked in with Deb, and then move away into the background upon seeing them.

It had taken a few occasion for her to actually notice though.

She knew Deb had pulled the man's medical records, and had been actively trying to get Zelosian-specific medicines, though she did not know how that was progressing.

The girl shook her dark-haired head in response to the rifle question.

"I passed." Baille reported, just in case this was something the Commodore asked about later.

"Wait a minute, does anyone here have any sort of reddish-colored garment I can borrow?" Reen suddenly queried. "I need it for..my outfit."

The young Corellian shook her head at that one. "I don't wear red."

"Yeah." Alex chimed in, favouring her with a smile of brotherly fondness. "If the rest of the Maglev Younglings were looking to her to step out her red undies and wave them to warn the driver of impending disaster, they'd be sith out of luck."

"That always seemed so unrealistic. Maglevs are incredibly fast."

"Okay, bad example." Alex looked at his partner. "So, who do we know who wears red?"

Harte's face creased for a moment as she thought about this. "Royal Guard?"

"Oh yes, even if we had one onboard, how are we supposed to lure him down here? Offer baked goods?" As one, both cast sly looks at the chef.

Tag: Mitth_Fisto The Vanguard galactic-vagabond422

OOC: Someone else can address the Commodore's arrival.

 

IC: Lieutenant Steadfast
Aft Hanger Control, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


Steadfast's cane preceded his welcome as he entered into the control room through the open blast doors; his cane had gained as much of a reputation as his Imperial Naval service and alien race had within the Empire's ranks. A nervous Ensign---no doubtfully one of the new bed wetters (they picked up on their last rotational run through at The Complex), as Steadfast called new officers fresh from the Academy, barked out a officer on deck wail, that sounded like somewhere between adolescence and adulthood---and the whole control room snapped to attention.

"At ease," Steadfast said; he could feel a collective sigh of relief in the air.

"Lieutenant Stead---" started the shift officer (standing by the starboard holographic table, where 1 Petty Officer and 1 Crewmen were also), but Steadfast stopped him cold in his tracks.

"Senior Lieutenant," Steadfast corrected the younger Lieutenant.

"Ahh---sorrrrrrry Senior Lieutenant Steadfast!" the Lieutenant replied, correcting his earlier mistake.

"Good," Steadfast said, noting the holographic display on the table showing the escape pods, Chief Shinzon, and his men, "Any developments?"


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



Escape Pod Occupants, outer space around Lepsawn 1-9


The Twi'lek male closed his eyes as the human's scream in the far escape pod stopped suddenly; he reopened his eyes to the still ever-static over the open comlink as he watched the muscular human wearing the breath mask drifted in space, frozen in the cold, unforgiving blackness of space. At least the man that shot him showed some mercy. There was no worse way of dying, then slowly dying in the deep blackness of space.

The Commander of the Rebellion forces killed the open comm at that moment and turned to his fellow escape pod occupants from the viewport as it rotated out of view.

"The Empire will keep killing everyone in the escape pods until we either surrender or they get what they want," the Twi'lek said, "And what they want, is me."

"What other choice do we have?" echoed another Rebellion officer, a human male, spreading out his arms in defeat.

"Some battles," spoke the Twi'lek, "Can still be won. Just not in the way we see them. There is still hope," the Twi'lek turned to the comm board in the escape pod, "I'm going to instruct all escape pods to surrender. And I'll highlight ours as the one holding me...maybe the Empire will show mercy to the others if we willingly surrender as the command staff."


TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
Imperial Star Destroyer Darkest Night, Hanger

Hearing the replies was a sad state of affairs. After all, it made him have to acknowledge the woman in the group he would rather not. With a sigh, he looked at the deck as he nodded before unslinging the basic version of the weapon and holding it out to her, though he still did not look at her. "Simple weapon of rebels. Point, aim, safety off, shoot. Single shot or triple burst. Selector to the side."

Letting the moment pass he simply waited as the side conversation about red garments slide by. "Find a human in the Rebels and you can make it red, I would offer food dye but I am not here to cook your meals today as far as I know." This he said with a bit more life, a bit more jest in response to luring a Royal Guard with baked goods. Although he knew it was forced for the kids sake. Not that he had as old at his first mission.

Luckily the Commodore's arrival brought a halt to the situation. "What a group of scum and villainy! Yes, yes," Peter said as he admired the group a moment longer before walking towards a nearby Lambda-class T-4a Shuttle (interior diagram), "This should do nicely. Well," Peter pointed to the shuttle, "All aboard! I'll discuss details en-route to Lepsawn 1-9. Navigational Officer Markova, if you would please take the pilot seat. Warrant Officer G'Spaugh, the co-pilot seat. Master Chef Voss, the Gunnery Station, I'll take Systems Ops Station. Lieutenants Baille Harte and Alex Qipao19, take passenger seats."

As he had headed down to join the group following the Commander he saw a tall droid carrying the satchel entering the hanger. With a side motion he passed the remaining rifle to the guy of the group as he waved to the droid to come over quickly.

"Your go back sir. Although if I may say so you seem to have let the air out of your own souffle this time." Kitch blandly stated as it looked his untidy appearance over. Leaning to the side it took the others state of dress as well. "Would you like me to calculate your chances?" At his blank stare back as he consolidated his sacks to be one with explosives, his travel knife set, and field ration water bulbs to the explosives bag before passing the empty go bag back.

Straightening up he turned to leave as Kitch got in the last word, again, "It's low. Very low."

Heading into the shuttle he found his seat at the gunnery station and stowed the bag of bombs and gear at his feat as he settled in to do what he could with what he had in front of him.

Once clearing with hanger control, Markova had the shuttle dropping out of the Star Destroyer and blasting across the dead cold of space towards the planet. Two TIE Fighters escorted the shuttle from behind.

It would be a short trip, roughly 27 minutes, so Englewood would take the time to debrief his away team. Ahead, the planet of Lepsawn 1-9 continued to fill the forward cockpit viewport as the shuttle got closer.

"Okay people, listen up," Englewood said as he positioned his seat at the Systems Ops Station to see both the cockpit stations and the passenger seats in back, "You've all been selected for various reasons for this mission. Make no mistake, we're going to be doing something risky. We are going planet side to the capital city of Lepsawn Central. There, we will be acquiring a general transport with no Imperial markings, but one in which was captured from enemy forces earlier in the day and in theory, the security codes should still work to gain us access past their defenses. From there, we'll be taking it to that Golan II Space Defense Space Gun up above the planet's North Pole. Once there, we'll board the station, steal sensitive data from their data banks, and disable the station's major weapons. Once that is completed, we'll leave the station and allow the Darkest Night to move in against the station, hence reducing our combat losses during a direct assault. Typically, we would tap a commando unit for this operation, but I feel that a more natural look of freedom fighters verses military rigidness with commandos would do us well to fit in to the station's criminal and shady population. So, act casual, people. These aren't the military types, except for a handful of Rebellion forces here and there.

"We'll have several additional operations aboard the station, but those will be secondary once we gather more intelligence on our surroundings and enemy forces. Lieutenants Harte & Qipao19, you'll be in charge of destroying the station's starfighter compliment, but also securing us secondary transport if our primary exit is eliminated. Warrant Officer G'Spaugh, you'll be in charge of accessing their communications network and causing outright havoc with it. Markova, you'll be with G'Spaugh, but you'll be in charge of disabling the station's navigational and environmental systems. G'Spaugh and Markova, you'll also need to slice their data core to get any sensitive data you can about their operations. Voss, you'll be with me; we'll be going straight for their ammunition stores and see what damage we can do there. Any questions?"

Voss truly didn't have any. He simply waited to see what the others would say as he pulled out a water bulb and sipped a few times enjoying the flavor and nutrient additives.

TAG: @Sith-I-5 ; @The Vanguard ; Bravo; @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Forward Shuttle Bay, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

The navigational officer remained quiet as the persons around her continued to chatter.

"Wait a minute," G'Spaugh spoke, mumbling something to the man that brought the rifles, "does anyone here have any sort of reddish-colored garment I can borrow? I need it for..my outfit."

Natalia's brow furrowed, why would G'Spaugh need a reddish garment, she looked enough the part. How would adding a specific color change things? Was it a personal preference? If it was then why didn't she have something like that with her?

The young woman couldn't help she wore solely white shirts and officer's uniforms, not a stitch of red, she had no need.

She opened her mouth to respond but, stopped when the woman in body armor interrupted her.

"I don't wear red." She said. It seemed red was not a commonly worn color on Imperial vessels.

"Yeah." The armored woman's partner replied quickly, "If the rest of the Maglev Younglings were looking to her to step out her red undies and wave them to warn the driver of impending disaster, they'd be sith out of luck."

Natalia's brow furrowed deeper, what was he talking about. Maglev Younglings? Red undergarments? Why would he make mention of such a thing? Was that how his mind worked, his thought process?

This was why she couldn't deal with social situations they always created more questions for her to ask and no time to ask them. She simply let kept her mouth shut allowing the conversation between the two to spiral out into ever more seemingly ridiculous tangents. It wasn't good for her to engage with things that only brought more questions, because the questions wouldn't stop.

Who were these Maglev Younglings, why were they on a maglev, where were their parents, why did they have to flag down another train, and why did this man think of that specific reference at that specific moment. They were related of course, if only through the color red but, what in his mind led him to make that connection first? The questions were building up inside, soon she would have to ask them. She was always a curious sort, always wanting to know exactly why things were the way they were, and how they got to be like that. However many found her incessant questioning off putting as many of her commanding officers and teachers could attest to.

In a lull in the conversation Natalia was about to launch into an interrogation of all present trying to get to the bottom of why G'Spaugh needed something red, who the Maglev Younglings were and why the man thought of them first when red was mentioned?

Once again she opened her mouth to speak but, stopped when the Commodore appeared dressed in civilian clothes.

She followed his orders taking her place in the pilot's seat. While she was more accustomed to guiding a much larger vessel the principals were still much the same. Set your heading, set your acceleration keep flight level.

The Commodore laid out his reasoning and plan. They were selected for their ability to blend in better than a commando squad. She listened intently for her part in this operation. Her mission was to disrupt or disable their navigation. There were several ways to do that. Locking the navigation system with a alphra-numeric randomly generated password, or changing the navigational computer's definition of a kilometer, its understanding of port and starboard. Or she could just invert the controls, make up down, make left right. She might do all of these, if she had time. It would keep the navigators busy trying to adjust to all the unsanctioned changes.

She would also be working with G'Spaugh to slice into the data core to grab any intelligence they could. Another task she was suited to though, she'd never done slicing to exploit flaws merely to point them out. She did this once sliced into her schools records not to alter them just to show her instructors that their security is lacking. She now wished that she had her datapad with her, she had tools and bots to assist her in breaking into the system. There were other options, their might be a datapad she could get on the station or someone here already had one.

"Sir," she said softly keeping her eyes on her instruments. "to do what you have asked having access to a datapad would expedite the slicing process otherwise getting physical access to the data core would be the most direct route. I do not have my personal datapad on me, I was unaware that I might be needing it, I request if we have one available that I be allowed to use it and install tools from the Holo-net to increase my effectiveness at slicing. Once I have access am I to attempt to download the whole core or just specific data? And what data would I be looking for?"

She felt a nervous feeling in her stomach. She was not a field agent, she was not trained in subterfuge. Wasn't including her on this mission a dangerous proposition? If anything were to go wrong she wouldn't have the skills to escape, or to resist torture, or whatever else the Rebels would want to do to her should she be captured. Which to her was high likelihood.

"As well what are our contingencies should one of us fail? Do we have a place to go, what comm frequency will we be using, should we be comm silent on the station or use it sparingly? If one of us is captured should we try to free them or let them go or...kill them to prevent them from falling into enemy hands?"

Her tone didn't change as she spoke though her nervousness did rise within her. It only made since that eliminating someone about to captured to prevent them from giving up valuable information. It didn't bother her any, other than possibly being killed herself. She propbably the least qualified to be on this mission.

G'Spaugh had experince as a combat pilot and the rest seemed to be more versed in martial pursuits, well more that her at least. She was the most likely to get caught, most likely to make a mistake, at least when interacting with others.

Was it the right choice to bring her along?

It was too late to question her orders, not that she could or would.

TAG: Mitth_Fisto The Vanguard Sith-I-5 Bravo

 

IC: Senior Lieutenant Gwen Levric, Corporal Talikia Garcal (NPC)
Military Intelligence Squad Room

There were some days that Gwen hated Imperial intelligence work; today was a middling day. She hadn't slept yet, though she doubted she'd be able to sleep well until the Golan station was taken or neutralized--that had always been a problem, even when she was a child on Corellia. She'd gotten caught up in whatever project she'd been enthralled with at the time (there'd been many) and she couldn't sleep, or didn't sleep well, due to the desire to complete, to fix, to solve. It was better managed now--good hydration, adequate food, and a semi-regular workout helped--but battles always brought it roaring back to the forefront. It was what it was--and in her Coruscant days, had kept her alive.

Gwen absentmindedly rubbed the space above the bridge of her nose as she leafed through a flimsi stack of older Sector Plexus reports. Most of these were old, outdated, rendered so by the battle's progress, or were irrelevant to the Darkest Night. A soft chime played, and she looked up to her screen. New report--it had been delayed due to its priority status; anything less than urgent or top priority got delivered after battles, so as not to distract the intel feeds from the battle. Levric keyed in the proper code and read:

Status: Delivered
Priority: Moderate
Encrypted: Yes
Message Body:

Imperial Customs intercepted a YT-1210 Light Freighter in the Absit System. Illegal small-arms weapon and spice running. After interrogation of crew, destination was found out to be Lepsawn 1-9. Unknown if YT-1210 is connected to on-going military operations.​

Interesting. If the YT-1210 wasn't connected to the military operations, then it was still probably connected to the crime lords on the surface and thereby tangentially connected anyway. If that were the case, since the ship had been intercepted, that could provide the Commodore with a way to get up to the Golan II without a direct assault. Now, if they could get their hands on a YT-1210...

"Ma'am?"

Levric looked up from her screen. Garcal stood there, having crossed the room rather than shout across it. "Yes, Corporal?"

"The reason's unknown, but hangar logs show the Commodore's signed out a Lambda-class T-4a to take down to the surface. With an escort of two TIEs."

What in the Nine-- Levric smiled lightly, as if she understood this inexplicable move on Englewood's part. "The Commodore has plans, it appears," she said. That he didn't consult us on or even inform us about. That's very...not him. "But thank you in spotting that, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Any luck with the datasets?"

"Not yet, ma'am," Garcal said. "I'm running my second set of tests on it--I'm testing an older Rebel code, one we let them take a while back, just in case it's still in use."

Levric nodded. That was good thinking when faced with a problem of this magnitude. "Let me know the moment anything pings."

"Yes, ma'am," Garcal said, returning to her station.

Levric thumbed her commlink to a private channel with Totter. "Captain," she said. "If the Commodore perhaps has plans of accessing our high-traffic target via alternate methods, it might prove useful for him to get possession of a YT-1210. Sector Plexus intercepted such a ship on its way here--illegal arms and spice smugglers. Might only be couriers for the crime lords but worth trying. Levric clear."

Gwen inwardly fretted as she stared at the screen again. Something about this high-volume traffic nagged at her--there was something here she should know. At least, that's how she felt about it, like she were missing something about it.

I will solve you. Maybe even with time to spare.

TAG: Bravo as Totter

 

IC: Flight Lieutenants Alex Qipao19, Baille Harte, Forward Shuttle Hangar.
Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


The chef, who had not yet identified himself, handed one of his huge guns to Baille, which Alex favoured with a dubious look, but allowed, not wanting to influence the exchange.

"Simple weapon of rebels. Point, aim, safety off, shoot. Single shot or triple burst. Selector to the side."

She hefted the weapon, then with a grimace of pain, handed it back. "Nope. Nope. Sorry, too heavy."

"Don't be a choob." Alex sternly told Jingle, although he did not yet know the man's name. "Look at the size of her. Look at the size of this weapon." He turned to Harte. "You okay?"

"Think I almost dislocated my shoulders."

Alex didn't like hearing that from the young femme that he regarded as a little sister. He should have stepped in, but she did not like it when it was too obvious that he was coddling her.

His lips thinned as he regarded her pained expression, which she valiantly tried to hide, as behind Reen and the unnamed femme, a dark rectangle had hummed open in the hangar roof, a large black claw lowering a sparkling white Lambda-class T-4a shuttle to the deck in front of the TIE Phantoms.

The people in the Forward Hangar Control must have glanced out over the Forward Shuttle Hangar, and asked themselves, what was wrong with this picture.

"Well, your arms do look longer."

"Har. Har."

"What a group of scum and villainy! Yes, yes," The familiar voice of Commodore Peter Englewood announced, as he stepped down from the direction of the Passenger Travel Tube He paused before them to further admire the group a moment longer before walking towards the now nearby Lambda-class T-4a Shuttle (interior diagram), "This should do nicely. Well," Englewood indicated the shuttle, "All aboard!"

All? Alex echoed silently as he glanced from the shuttle to his Phantom to the right, his thoughts swirling with confusion.

Something collided with his side, and the pilot looked over to see the Chef passing him another thick-barrelled A280, or perhaps it was the same one he had tried to give to Baille.

The man wasn't even looking at him!

Alex followed the Master Chef's gaze, and noted the imposing black shape of the Security Droid that sometimes broke up fights in the Mess Halls, coming over with a bulging satchel!

"Your go bag sir. Although if I may say so you seem to have let the air out of your own soufflé this time." The droid blandly stated as it looked his untidy appearance over, showing a lot more personality than he saw from most droids aboard the Star Destroyer.

Leaning to the side it took in the others' state of dress as well, most of whom were already trailing the Commodore to the shuttle. "Would you like me to calculate your chances?"

At what? Alex railed silently against the droid's offer. You don't even know what we are doing here! We, don't even know what we are doing here!

The cook consolidated his sacks to be one with explosives, his travel knife set, and field ration water bulbs to the explosives bag before passing the empty go bag back. Then, making no attempt to collect his blaster cannon back from Alex, stalked and stomped towards the shuttle's ramp.

Straightening up, the droid got in the apparent last word, "It's low. Very low."

Ducking his head beneath the shuttle's nose, Alex was the last to ascend the ramp, and could feel it starting to rise up underneath him, which helped somewhat.

"I'll discuss details en-route to Lepsawn 1-9. Navigational Officer Markova, if you would please take the pilot seat. Warrant Officer G'Spaugh, the co-pilot seat. Master Chef Voss, the Gunnery Station, I'll take Systems Ops Station. Lieutenants Baille Harte and Alex Qipao19, take passenger seats."

Baille was standing at the entrance to the cockpit, indicating the two Auxiliary Station seats behind System Ops and Gunnery stations, respectively. "But there are two, perfectly good-"

Sighing, Alex leaned in and gently but firmly caught her arm, pulling her to the back of the craft, into the passenger area. "See, this is why I come along with you. Arguing the toss with flag officers, for drokk's sake. The man said passenger seats!"

He indicated the centre chair among a line of six aisle-facing seats, and paused to belt the thick long-blaster to a seat on the opposite side of the aisle. "Besides, there was no room up front for Madeline."

"Madeline?"

Alex sat next to the secured gun, smiled and patted it fondly after belting himself into the chair opposite Baille's. "Look at the size of it! It deserves to have a name."

"Madeline?"

"Doctor Madeline."

A triple set of doors slid shut, separating them from both the cockpit, and the cramped lobby area between both modules. Both pilots knew that this was an automated safety feature in case there was an accident, and the pilot module, which could fly off like an escape pod, separated from their bit.

Jammed into her bucket seat, Baille tore open two of her pouches, pulling out a water bulb, and a small plastic flask. She palmed two white pills, cupped them into her mouth, then drank from the bulb.

"Good girl. You brought pain killers."

"I hang around Auntie Deb all day. Of course I brought pain killers."

There was a noticeable shift in gravity as the craft dropped away from the Star Destroyer, then, several moments later, the doors ahead of them slid open again.

Both pilots had to lean forwards to see into the cockpit, and could see that the Commodore was looking back at them.

"Don't wave."

"I wasn't going to wave."

"Okay people, listen up," Englewood said as he positioned his seat at the Systems Ops Station to see both the cockpit stations and the passenger seats in back, "You've all been selected for various reasons for this mission. Make no mistake, we're going to be doing something risky. We are going planet side to the capital city of Lepsawn Central. There, we will be acquiring a general transport with no Imperial markings, but one in which was captured from enemy forces earlier in the day and in theory, the security codes should still work to gain us access past their defences. From there, we'll be taking it to that Golan II Space Defense Space Gun up above the planet's North Pole. Once there, we'll board the station, steal sensitive data from their data banks, and disable the station's major weapons. Once that is completed, we'll leave the station and allow the Darkest Night to move in against the station, hence reducing our combat losses during a direct assault. Typically, we would tap a commando unit for this operation, but I feel that a more natural look of freedom fighters verses military rigidness with commandos would do us well to fit in to the station's criminal and shady population. So, act casual, people. These aren't the military types, except for a handful of Rebellion forces here and there."

There was a pause to let that burst of information get digested. The pilots exchanged glances.

"We'll have several additional operations aboard the station, but those will be secondary once we gather more intelligence on our surroundings and enemy forces. Lieutenants Harte & Qipao19, you'll be in charge of destroying the station's starfighter compliment, but also securing us secondary transport if our primary exit is eliminated. Warrant Officer G'Spaugh, you'll be in charge of accessing their communications network and causing outright havoc with it. Markova, you'll be with G'Spaugh, but you'll be in charge of disabling the station's navigational and environmental systems. G'Spaugh and Markova, you'll also need to slice their data core to get any sensitive data you can about their operations. Voss, you'll be with me; we'll be going straight for their ammunition stores and see what damage we can do there. Any questions?"

Alex glared across at his partner, and shook his head sharply to ward off any ambitions she had of taking up the offer.

Markova began to speak, Alex only able to identify her by the fact that she was the only one on the mission that had not yet spoken, and Englewood had helpfully identified everyone. For instance, the chef was called 'Voss'.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned towards the front as much as his restraints allowed, but the girl was talking too softly for her voice to carry all the way back here with any legibility.

He waited for her to finish, then chimed in with his own enquiry. "Sir, when you say to destroy the fighter complement, do you mean, noisily whilst we are still on the station, or quietly incapacitate them so that they get destroyed after we have left, for example, when the Rebs attempt to launch to defend the station?"

He sat back to give the others a chance to ask their questions, and the Commodore the chance to answer them all. And maybe he would be able to tell from the response to Markova, just what in Fornax she had asked.

Opposite him, Baille continued to massage her strained shoulder, though her expression did not look as pained as before.

Tag: Mitth_Fisto The Vanguard galactic-vagabond422 Bravo

 

IC: Captain Duke P. (Patrick) Totter
Bridge, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over satellite moon of Lepsawn 1-9


"Captain," came Levric's voice over his comm. "If the Commodore perhaps has plans of accessing our high-traffic target via alternate methods, it might prove useful for him to get possession of a YT-1210. Sector Plexus intercepted such a ship on its way here--illegal arms and spice smugglers. Might only be couriers for the crime lords but worth trying. Levric clear."

Duke nodded in silent approval, before responding. "Copy Levric. I'll pass it along. Totter clear," Totter then turned to communications, "Get me a comlink direct to Imperial Customs. Highest priority."

"Yes, Captain," replied the technician.


TAG Laine_Snowtrekker

---

IC: Commodore Peter Englewood
Lambda-class T-4a Shuttle, approaching Lepsawn 1-9, from previous lunar orbit with Star Destroyer Darkest Night


"Sir," spoke up Markova. "to do what you have asked having access to a datapad would expedite the slicing process otherwise getting physical access to the data core would be the most direct route. I do not have my personal datapad on me, I was unaware that I might be needing it, I request if we have one available that I be allowed to use it and install tools from the Holo-net to increase my effectiveness at slicing. Once I have access am I to attempt to download the whole core or just specific data? And what data would I be looking for?"

Good question. Englewood felt around in his vest's pockets, before fishing out a data-pad and handed it to her. While it was his datapad, he figured Voss and himself could figure things out on their own accord.

"As well what are our contingencies should one of us fail? Do we have a place to go, what comm frequency will we be using, should we be comm silent on the station or use it sparingly? If one of us is captured should we try to free them or let them go or...kill them to prevent them from falling into enemy hands?"

Peter smiled. This was one of the reasons why he wanted her along for this mission; she was a thinker and would think outside the box, which is what they needed to succeed.

"Everyone will use comm channel Bridge Portal One. Its encrypted and typically only used by the bridge crew's commanding officers. But it will also allow our bridge crew to monitor our communications directly and intervene as necessary. As for getting captured, the easy answer is, don't get captured. If you do, fight like hell. I'll say this, its better to die fighting then be captured by these thugs."


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


Central Government Building


As the Lambda-class Shuttle touched down on the central landing pad, Englewood peered out the cockpit's window to see a welcoming party approaching. The party clearly showed several people of importance, by show of their expensive clothes, while Englewood could even spot, what he believed to be, was the Imperial Ambassador to this world, a Captain Jeffery Vicks if memory served right. Coming in front of the welcoming party and lining up in an honor guard were 12 soldiers of what Englewoodd remembered as the United Nation Military Force, from pre-battle briefings several days ago; the soldiers lined up with six mercenaries to either side.


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

Queen Natasha the Bold


Natasha waited just beyond the reach of the honor guard, waiting for the shuttle's ramp to lower, while the two TIE Fighters escorting the shuttle flew overhead one last time, before banking away & heading back for space.

"I thought," Natasha cited under her breath to Captain Vicks beside her, "That I said no invasion force to land in my people's capital."

Vicks trembled under the Queen's icy stare and words of fire, "Madam President, this is no invasion force! Merely an officer's shuttle!"

"So says the Imperial diplomatic," the Queen replied; a moment after the ramp lowered to the ground, a dishonest looking group of individuals disembarked from the shuttle. The Queen raised an eyebrow, "This is how Imperial officers dress, Captain Vicks? Apparently, Captain, you're overdressed!"

"Ah---ah---Madam President, I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation to---"Jeffery's words were cut off as the Queen stepped forward, the other 7 or so diplomatic aids and senators behind her doing so as well. Swallowing a knot in his throat, Vicks followed the Queen, reminding himself quietly to have a very direct conversation with the Commodore about proper protocol.

She raised an eyebrow as the human male leading this group, as the two opposing sides stopped short of each other. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were working for the Rebellion and Crime Lords trying to take down my government and harm my people."

Englewood bowed, "Madam President and Queen Natasha the Bold of the United Islands of Lepsawn, I am Commodore Peter Englewood of the Imperial Star Destroyer Darkest Night. At your service," straightening, Englewood made excuse for his attire, "I am sorry for the less informal attire, but we are here on a bit of a covert operation."

The Queen raised an eyebrow, "Covert? On my soil? Under whose's authority, Commodore?"

"Of my own authority, as acting in defense of your planet, Madam President. I'll be needing help finding secure transportation to that space station over the North pole. We aim to disable it out and bring a quick end to this conflict for the safety of your people."

"You say the right words, Commodore. As all men do. But do you mean them? Or, is this pointless trip of yours of a greater plan? After all, I did forbid all Imperial transports from landing in my capital city. Your persistence won you little, other than the dungeon if you do not prove me otherwise of your intentions."

"As you wish, Madam President," Commodore replied.

"And your company?" the Queen asked, "Who are they?"


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


Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)


The conference room featured a long wooden oval table with expensive black cushioned wooded chairs. The oak wood table off-set with a darker wood-paneled room, which featured a gray carpet and white ceiling. Double doors lead in & out of the conference room at the far end. Everyone from the shuttle was in various places in the conference, either sitting at the table or looking at the expensive artwork lining the walls.

"Very much the contrast to the dirt and grim that our ground forces are reporting from these Neglected Cities," Englewood said matter-of-factly as he looked around the expansive-looking room; they all waited for the Queen to arrive. Both Englewood and Vicks stood off at one end of the long table, away from everyone else (but not intentionally).

"Thank you," Captain Jeffery Vicks said, as the silver-plated 3PO Droid gave him the last cup of water from his tray, then departed from the conference room. Two UNMF guards could be seen flanking the conference room doors on the outside as the droid left and the doors closed; Vicks looked at the Commodore, "Not so loud, Commodore. We have ears listening everywhere."

"As would anyone else," Englewood replied, "You said you had importance information for me on our way in here?"

Vicks' eyes lit up as he remembered and said, "Ah, yes! Your very own Lieutenant Levric was able to secure you most modest transportation, a YT-1210 Light Freighter! It was stopped by Imperial Customs and was found out to be coming here from the Absit System. Nothing major, just illegal small arms and spice running. But if its being expected by somebody down here on the planet, it could allow you easier access to the space station."

Englewood nodded, "A plan that could work. How long until it arrives?"

"Three days."

"Three days?"

Vicks' dismissive look told Englewood all he needed to know about the man's military ability, "Commodore, Absit is in the far reaches of deep space, with no major well explored hyperspace lanes to speed travel. So, I would suggest a more direct approach."

"Direct approach?"

"Yes, Commodore. We, the Empire, are here to impress our new found allies in Lepsawn 1-9 with our military might and ability to defend her people, not with covert military operations that show her and her people little of our might! What better way to show our military might that then a direct assault on that station?"

"At the cost of Imperial lives, Captain."

Vicks smiled and lowered his voice, so only the Commodore could hear him, "Come, come, Commodore. You and I both know the value of an Imperial life to the greater good of the Empire. Let us not be fools."

Englewood did not lower his voice to a whisper, "Fools of what, Captain Vicks?"

Vicks showed his displeasure across his face, but kept his voice at a whisper, "Fools, Commodore, to the political environment we live in. To understand that, no matter the cost of Imperial lives, we should hold true to our allegiance with Lepsawn 1-9! Do we have a understanding?"

"No, Captain, we don't."

"Pity, Commodore. Because I have ensured that you do."

"Excuse me, Captain? You are addressing a superior officer and will do accordingly."

Vicks finally brought his voice back up, but not by much, and spoke before he walked away to address a private comm message, "No, Commodore, it is you who should learn your place. This capital city is still a diplomatic bastion. Not a military one. And regardless of my rank within the military, I act accordingly with Imperial political doctrine first and foremost. Not military doctrine. So, Commodore, while you are here, you will follow my orders, not your own," Vicks lowered his voice, so only Englewood could hear again, I have powerful connections you would not want to disrupt. My father has the Emperor's ear. It could hurt your career. But...to follow my instructions on political matters, I could put in a glowing after-action report of your Star Destroyer's performance and your performance especially. That, certainly, could help with a promotion to Admiral, it comes across the Emperor personally," before walking away to take his comm call, Vicks padded Englewood on the shoulder, "Just keep that in mind...Commodore."

Watching Vicks walk away, Englewood to see his away team in different areas of the conference room. As far as he knew, no one had seen the more heated parts of their conversation.

He grimaced.

Could he lead these very people before him to their deaths on a direct assault on that space station? What was more important? His career or them?


TAG @Sith-I-5 ; @The Vanguard ; @Mitth_Fisto ; @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Lambda-class T-4a Shuttle, approaching Lepsawn 1-9

Natalia’s grey eyes broke from the space ahead of her to take the data pad from the Commodore. She set it in her lap realizing that she didn’t have a pack or anything really to carry the device. That was something she’d have to figure out later right now she was focusing on entry through the atmosphere.

"Everyone will use comm channel Bridge Portal One." The navigator filed the information away to be used later. "Its encrypted and typically only used by the bridge crew's commanding officers. But it will also allow our bridge crew to monitor our communications directly and intervene as necessary. As for getting captured, the easy answer is, don't get captured. If you do, fight like hell. I'll say this, its better to die fighting then be captured by these thugs."

A sudden spike of nervousness shot through Natalia hearing that. Her fight? She’d never been in a fight for her life, never even fought in school. She never had a need to. When she joined the Imperial Navy it was as a navigator not a soldier, she was never expected to be face to face with the enemy. Now that was a very real possibility and was just given orders to not allow herself to be captured, to ‘fight like hell’. The question was, did she have the capability to fight to back?

As her worry built she could feel the strings of a viol playing in the back of her head. Letting out a sharp breath she looked ahead checking her instruments incessantly. She was looking for anything to quash the music building in her ears.

___________

Central Government Building

Bringing the craft down on the landing pad Natalia noticed a crowd of people there to greet them. She wondered why there were there, wasn’t this supposed to be a clandestine mission? The shuttle set down softly guided by Natalia’s precise inputs and the boarding ramp extended allowing the others to exit the craft.

She followed behind the group keeping her eyes looking at the duracrete under foot. She listened to the disagreement between the Commodore and the other woman who spoke with authority. Eaglewood introduced her as Madam President and Queen Natasha the Bold. Natalia knitted her brow. How could one be both? A President was an elected position, yet Queen was a hereditary one, unless it was an ex-officio position. If one held the title of Monarch they were also the President, or vice-versa. She was curious but, had to fight back against asking questions.

She was in the presence of her commanding officer, and local royalty, now was not the time to be spouting questions, especially given her position as just a simple officer.

"And your company?" the Queen Natasha asked, "Who are they?" Natalia looked up her arms holding the borrowed datapad to her chest. Her fingers gripped the edge of the device keeping her hands from tapping out the music growing louder in her mind. Was she supposed to respond? How should she? With a curtsey and a 'Your Grace'. No, far to above her station, no one should be placed above the Emperor. Then a 'My Lady' perhaps?

Her father had taught her proper etiquette for greeting those above her in social situations. He always had aspirations above his station of a lowly clerk. He had visions of joining the upper echelons of Imperial society, of dining with Moffs and Generals. Thus he took protocol very seriously and did everything he could to teach it to Natalia. Not that she ever had reason to use it, besides her normal subdued nature, the military didn’t seem to follow the same rules.

She looked to the others choosing to keep silent and allow her commander to introduce her.

__________

Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)


After the meeting on the landing pad the navigator quickly took up a position in the corner far away from the others. She was working on the datapad. Having already accessed the holo-net she was configuring the device and installing all the tools she would need to slice into the data core. Her fingers flew over the keys never looking at her hands. She hit each key precisely and without error.

In the data storage of the pad she created a partition to store her tools that would automatically install them on the core once a data link was established. The first step would be getting around the passwords and permissions restrictions. She could do that easily if she could restart the core and force it to startup into the partition on the datapad. However that would raise some red flags, unless they could knock out power to the whole station or just the core. Her brow furrowed more in thought. No, even an incompetent administrator would have the core setup with an uninterruptible power supply, a battery powerful enough to keep the core running for a while. Maybe if there were virtual cores...possibly she could shut one down start into the datapad and clear out the admin password on that machine.

However that doesn’t solve getting into the host core in the first place.

Maybe, if the outage was brief, they wouldn’t notice. It was still risky it would take time for the core to come back up and yet more time to copy the data. If she had someone to watch her back they could create more time. Possibly, just so long as whoever administrates the core doesn’t decide to take remote control to see what happened. There were still options, deactivate remote administration, that would buy her maybe a few more moments. It still relied on a fair bit of chance to succeed. If she knew more of the plan or could talk with the Commodore…

She looked up to see the older man still talking with the blonde haired diplomat. Now was not the right time to ask. Back on the shuttle he didn’t shut her down he answered her questions, though not all of them. It is possible that he might be receptive to her inquiries.

Her fingers began to tap, absentmindedly, on the oak table another long viol piece, written by a virtuoso of the Old Republic. Soon it was all she could hear, the rising and falling melody, carefully and slowly approaching its crescendo. It wasn’t even sparking any memories of her mother playing the piece, it was just cold notes running through her mind played out by her hand that she felt compelled to tap out on the table.

She clenched her hand into a fist but, her fingers still longed to continue the piece her mind nearly demanding it. Unable to keep her thoughts in check she rose from the table, gathering the datapad, and began to gaze upon the art that hung in the room. Her mind was able to take in the vibrant colors, recognize the use of perspective and vanishing points, see the painstaking detail put into the recreation of anatomy of the subjects, or the contours of the objects.

She could already see the effort and skill put into the piece, peering closer she could see the individual brush strokes like notes on a sheet. She could already feel the lilting tones of the viol in the back of her mind trying to reassert dominance.

No she couldn’t let it, she had a job to do. She paid little attention to the people around her as she forced herself to return to her seat and continue to work on preparing the datapad for the mission to come.

Her mind was still too much of a mess, too much of a warzone for her to talk to the Commodore. She would wait for a better moment, a moment when she wasn’t fighting her mind.

TAG: Sith-I-5 The Vanguard Mitth_Fisto Bravo

 

IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
Shuttle to Planetary surface / Royal Briefing Room

Hearing the replies was an educational situation, he certainly learned about the Navigation officer a bit more. Still some things were left unsaid and he had a nagging feeling the young woman was not one to improvise that well on the fly based off of what the Commodore said, he would try to find a private moment to share his point of view. Still, it all was a lot to take in. From a planning standpoint there were some rather large flaws, one of them being the team did not have time to review the last structural layout of what they were heading into, and whatever security situations they might face from the Crime Lords or Rebels on station. After all in his prior line of work he had had the pleasure of dismantling a security system by a scoundrel that was more sophisticated in most respects than even Imperial hardware in it's level of paranoia and lethality.
_______________

Central Government Building Landing

After leaving the shuttle they had a rather delightful reception that was full of ice and royalty. Coming from a world that held a sort of democracy for it's ruling body, and an Empire with an Emperor who was still the first to hold such a title, he felt like the nomenclature of this world to have a Queen of anything was antiquated.

"You say the right words, Commodore. As all men do. But do you mean them? Or, is this pointless trip of yours of a greater plan? After all, I did forbid all Imperial transports from landing in my capital city. Your persistence won you little, other than the dungeon if you do not prove me otherwise of your intentions."

"As you wish, Madam President," Commodore replied.

"And your company?" the Queen asked, "Who are they?"

At this point in the exchange Jingle stood up a little straighter and bowed in a rather overstated and ridiculous manner. "Master Chef Voss. At the Commodore's service." he simply stated before standing erect with a flourish of his free hand. It was silly and he couldn't help but grin broadly at her.

_______________________

Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)

As the Commodore seemed to be having a rather heated discussion, Jingle was absently drinking his water as he pretended to stare at a painting. To be honest he really didn't care for the composition. Give him a holo of a new food dish and he was happy, but this drivel didn't really hold any special appeal. It was just rich people throwing their credits around for a semblance of ambiance instead of working toward real change.


As soon as the politician left he approached the Commodore with a grin on his lips. "So Sir. Shall I prepare a Corellian delicacy for him? He would sleep very soundly afterward I would wager." he added with a wink. Taking a sip of his water he waited to see what the Commodore would say.

TAG: Bravo, Sith-I-5, galactic-vagabond422, The Vanguard

 

IC: Queen Natasha the Bold (retroactive post)
Landing Pads outside Central Government Building, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)


"And your company?" the Queen asked, "Who are they?"

Peter Englewood, for whom the Queen knew more formerly as the Commodore, extended a hand out to his side, "This is my Star Destroyer's Navigational Officer, Natalia Markova. She----"

"Looks strong," the Queen interrupted, "Intelligent. Independent. Good choice, Commodore."

Englewood didn't know he needed approval from a foreign head of state to qualify his command; his words more stumbled out of his mouth, then flowed, in response, "Thank you. I think...."

Natasha looked to the next person within the Imperial Officer's company, whose overstated bow of respect caused the Queen to smile fondly of the man's effort, "Master Chef Voss. At the Commodore's service."

"A Chef?" the Queen asked aloud, as she looked cross to Englewood and raised an eyebrow as she looked back to Voss, "On an away mission? A first, most certainty, Mr. Voss, in my experience. I am most certain your resume goes beyond the kitchen?"


TAG galactic-vagabond422 ; Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Master Sergeant DW-418121 (Animal)
Residential-Economical Site One; Lepsawn 1-9 (Neglected City)


"Get the wounded to cover!"Tech barked over the helmet-to-helmet comlink, pointing out to several Stormtroopers rolling around on the ground in various states of pain from the destruction of Raptor Two.

"Belay that order!" Animal barked over the comm, his eyes scanning the roof-top for the Captain, but not seeing him, "Continue on mission!"

There was no arguing. All Stormtroopers knew that the mission came first. After a moment's pause of looking at each other, the rest of the Stormtroopers (and the survivors from Raptor Two) took up the mission.

"We have contacts!" Eyes blurted over the comm, "Up those stairs!"

----SONG: Bodies---

A second later, Animal's helmet sensors started flashing red targets coming up the roof stairway; a moment later, the door burst open!

Before Animal could get words out, one luckless Stormtrooper was hit with a blaster bolt to the shoulder, which spun him around to the ground.

"DOWN!!!!!" Animal ordered the two other stormtroopers in front of him over the helmet comm as he leveled his T-21B Heavy Blaster at the door and depressed the trigger, unleashing a stream of green blaster bolts. One after the other came thug-after-thug and one-after-one, they fell in different arrangements of death and near death as the T-21 tore into torso armor, ripped legs and arms off, and blasted off chunks of helmets (and skulls). Animal had barely released his finger off the trigger, when he ordered, "Move!"

It was times like this that Stormtroopers showed their true military professionalism over other military units in the galaxy. In seemingly perfect fashion, one Stormtrooper tossed a flash grenade through the still smoking roof-stairway access, the grenade bouncing down several steps before going off with a bang-and-flash. The flash grenade hadn't even gone off yet before two Stormtroopers rushed forward, their E-11 Blaster Rifles pointed forward. A third man followed a moment later with another E-11, then Animal signaled the rest forward. Without being told, one-after-one, every Stormtrooper----whether from Nighthawk One or Raptor Two---flowed into the breach based on their weapon and how best their weapon's position would affect the overall success of the immediate mission. No words had to be said. As Animal followed suit with three Stormtroopers bringing up his rear, four last Stormtroopers remained on the roof to act as a rear guard (the last 4 were members of Raptor Two).

As Animal stepped over the dismantled bodies of the thugs he had just burned up, he roughly counted eight such beings had met their Maker. When movement caught his eye in the pile of bodies, he signaled for one of the Stormtroopers behind him, and he heard a single blaster shot ring out from an E-11 Blaster behind him.

----END SONG----

"Command," Animal said over his helmet comlink, as he descended the steps and watched as the rest of the squad below finished killing two enemy tangos blinded by the flash, "This is Second Squad of Joker Platoon. Raptor Two support is KIA. Survivors are roof-side, needing evac, with two trooper rear guard in place. Second Squad, nine troopers plus four from Raptor Two, is continuing on mission. DW-418121 clear."

A response came back, [Copy Second Squad. Raptor Two support is KIA, survivors on roof-top. Continuing on mission. We'll send support when we can. Good luck.]

"You know they'll be sending more reinforcements," Business said matter-of-fact over the helmet comlink, as he secured the T corridor with Face, each trooper securing a side of the corridor.

"You won't have trouble missing them," Face replied.


At that moment, Business' recent shoulder injury with the blaster shot that swung him to the ground flared up, "Arse."

"You were the idiot standing in front of that door," Face replied with a chuckle.

"Stop the chatter!" Animal ordered, "Tech, get us to our objective!"

"Well," Tech replied as one of the eleven other Stormtroopers cramped into the stairway corridor and out of sight of the corridor (as he held a holomap in his palm, showing the building in blue diagram and original mission goals, "Raptor Two troops were suppose to take care of one of the objectives for us. But we'll have to split forces now."

"Great," Business replied, "Underpaid and outgunned. Exactly how I was told a Stormtrooper's life would be at the recruiting office."

"Shove it Trooper," Animal warned, "Or I'll shoot you myself! Okay, listen up! First Section, you're with me. We'll take the VIP, supported by Raptor Two personnel. Second Section, you get the power and emergency generators. Keep it quiet & stealthy, Second Section. Move out!"



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


Second Squad, First Section


"So," Face asked causally over the comlink channel for First Squad, as he peaked around the corner----cleared the forthcoming lobby area with reception desk and waiting area with chairs and holo screens for entertainment, "Any takers on what happened to Captain Grimnar?"

"Don't we have better things to focus on?" asked Trooper DW-418126, as he followed the hand-signals and moved up into the lobby area with another trooper from Raptor Two, "CLEAR!" the trooper yelled when no threats came out and helmet sensors failed to ping any tangos nearby.

"No," Face responded as he followed up last after Animal, "Not when you got credits on the Captain's fate."

"You placed a bet on the Captain's life expectancy?" Animal asked as he quickly cleared the next corridor ahead of them, before holding up a hand silently and gesturing two fingers towards the closed double doors in which the waiting room was clearing designed to cater to.

Face shrugged, "Well, this is his first day with Second Squad."

Animal couldn't argue with the squad's tradition; it had been Second Squad's tradition to put bets down on new comers to the squad ever since before Animal was part of the unit, "Okay, I get that. But, that goes for anyone not with the rank of Captain in front of their name."

"You can't change the rules!" Face cried, "Who gave you that power?"

"It's called being a Sergeant. And my Sergeant-sized boot is about to go up your rear if you don't check that office!"

"We better hurry," Eyes said as he had his helmet off while checking the reception desk's computer consoles, "According to these cameras, we have about a dozen tangos coming up that turbolift!" the Chiss pointed to the bank of turbolifts just ahead where Animal had just cleared the corridor, "And they looked heavily armed. I'm seeing four Rebel Assault Troopers, supported by eight Rebel Troopers."

"Looks like they want to retake the roof before we can get organized," Animal said, switching his comlink channels, "Tech?"

"Tech here," came a quick & quiet response.

"We have Rebel reinforcements attached with assault troopers heading up on turbolifts. Watch your sectors."

"Yeah," Tech replied, "They're already here. We're avoiding them and playing cat and mouse with them---for now. Four Assault Troopers and eight Rebel Troopers."

"Same here," Animal said, "I'm thinking this is their standard response teams then, initial tactical defense. Makes me wonder how better organized they really are, verses what Intelligence told us."

"Me too," Tech replied, adding, "Tech clear."

Switching back to his comm channel, Animal said, "Defensive positions!" the Master Sergeant watched as Face and two other Stormtroopers breached the offices next to them, "We'll need a defensive rearguard."

"On it!" Eyes said, grabbing his helmet and putting it on as he ran back to act as rear guard.


TBC (or tag Master Vo'Un'Var )

 

IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
Landing Pads outside Central Government Building, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)


"And your company?" the Queen asked, "Who are they?"

Peter Englewood, for whom the Queen knew more formerly as the Commodore, extended a hand out to his side, "This is my Star Destroyer's Navigational Officer, Natalia Markova. She----"

"Looks strong," the Queen interrupted, "Intelligent. Independent. Good choice, Commodore."

Englewood didn't know he needed approval from a foreign head of state to qualify his command; his words more stumbled out of his mouth, then flowed, in response, "Thank you. I think...."

Natasha looked to the next person within the Imperial Officer's company, whose overstated bow of respect caused the Queen to smile fondly of the man's effort, "Master Chef Voss. At the Commodore's service."

"A Chef?" the Queen asked aloud, as she looked cross to Englewood and raised an eyebrow as she looked back to Voss, "On an away mission? A first, most certainty, Mr. Voss, in my experience. I am most certain your resume goes beyond the kitchen?"

"Yes M'Lady. I was a rogue. Then I was something I don't think you are cleared to know, but my specialty and my passion is the look on a crewman's eyes when they get that wonderful taste of something that makes all cares disappear." With a slight rubbing motion at his hip and upper leg that lead to the prosthetic he did his best to smile without a grimace. Of all the fraking times for it to act up with those 'phantom' pains. "Truly is there anything better? Perhaps M'Lady would like a demonstration? Just name the five best meals of your life and I will try to steal the place of one. Eh?"

TAG @galactic-vagabond422 ; Bravo

 

IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
On the Great Escape Pod Roundup, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

Still feeling like his stomach was going to rebel against him at any moment, Cain took a long agonizing look at the open hanger bay of the Darkest Night as he willed for this mission to be over. The sooner it was over the sooner he would be back in a gravity controlled environment instead of floating around out here like a cast away in a vast ocean. He shuddered, even the thought of an ocean caused the bile to rise in his throat, especially out here in these conditions. "Hurry it along men," he commed out to the capture team as they finished up on the next pod.

Another inspection team moved forward under the guidance of squad leader Zallen. They seemed to have things well in hand so Cain once again looked away, and towards the Star Destroyer, but as the inspection team began their task Cain's comm system lit up again. He sighed in response, anticipating another problem. This was going to be a very long day. To his surprise though it wasn't the inspection team, who seemed to be moving along smoothly. Nor was it on a secure Imperial frequency. It was a short wave emission on an open channel. And it was from one of the escape pods.

Cain held up his right hand, his index finger extended to visually signal those nearby to standby with their own comms chatter so he could hear the transmission.

"This is..." the name was lost in a burst of static. "Leader of the Rebel forces on Lespawn one nine." Well, wasn't that interesting. Cain signaled to a pair of troopers assigned to one of the inspection teams to home in and triangulate the exact source of the transmission. Cain wanted to know which pod he was in. It would take time, so hopefully the fool kept talking.

"I am offering the surrender of myself and staff as well as ordering the surrender of every escape pod under my command with the understanding..." he paused for a moment. "With the hope, that we will receive mercy from Imperial forces and will be taken in alive rather than executed."

Cain raised an eyebrow behind his faceplate. He hated to show anyone mercy, even if they had surrendered. Mercy was a sign of weakness. His own desires were tempered though by the fact that he had been ordered to capture as many of the rebels alive as possible, and that his own neck was on the line with regards to the Commodore. He looked to the inspection team tracking the signal, whose job was made much easier with the next part of the broadcast. "As a demonstration of our goodwill and sincerity, I am highlighting the pod in which myself and my command staff are located."

The transmission degenerated into a homing signal of beeps that Cain's buy'ce (helmet) could easily interpret and as he looked back to the pods he could see one highlighted with a soft glowing yellow icon. "That's the one men." He pointed, though surely their own buckets, even of a lesser, arutiise (foreign) design, had also located the beacon. "Capture team," he instructed the team's utilizing the knockout gas, "that pod has priority, I want it taken now."

"Roger that," came the quick reply as the team jetted off to the pod containing the command staff. There was little reason to alter their methodology now. After all maybe this Rebel commander was trying to sacrifice himself in an effort to rally his men. Cain would try to make sure he never had that chance. "Inspection team, standby." He commed out to a pair of troopers who jetted over to the pod, waiting for the capture team to finish the job.

"Hanger control, Shinzon." He commed back to the hanger bay that was tasked with taking in the escape pods once they had been neutralized and inspected. "We have a pod here that IDed itself as containing the Rebel commander and his staff. It's been gassed and..." he looked to the inspection team which gave him a thumbs up. "And is ready to be brought in. Make sure you have a detachment ready to..." he looked back out into space as his stomach lurched. They had the command staff, and that deserved his full attention. "Never mind, I'm headed in to take them into custody myself." He started to jet towards the hanger bay as soon as he saw the pod ensnared in the tractor beam.

"Zallen." he commed out next to the squad leader. "Yessir?" The reply was immediate, Zallen was a good man, a loyal servant of the Empire, and of Cain Shinzon. "Take charge out here, bring in these pods and kill any that resist." Even with the supposed surrender of the Rebels, Cain didn't trust that any would go back on their word. These were traitors after all, they had already demonstrated that they had no honor. Zallen could handle it from here and the man knew well enough that if he served Shinzon well, he would soon earn himself a promotion from squad leader. "I'm headed in."

TAG: Bravo

 

IC: Gwen Levric and Corporal Garcal
MI Squad Room

No results yet on the traffic between the Golan II and the ground. Garcal had a theory she was working on but hadn't reported back in yet. Colbea was monitoring the situation with the escape pods, and the other two enlisted had gone to grab snacks from the mess for the team.

​

"...We have ears listening everywhere..." ​

Levric rolled her eyes as her ears, through her headphones, caught the sound of that insufferable, arrogant . . .captain speaking near one of the bugs discreetly planted in the governmental buildings; the bugs were ones that only agents on the ground would be aware of. She flicked her gaze to its label: East Tower CR. While it was safer to assume that ears were indeed everywhere, it was still rather stupid to state that fact out loud. When it could be captured by some sort of recording device. Idiot.

She listened again, keeping an eye on her ongoing search.

"...What better way to show our military might that then a direct assault on that station?"​

​

"At the cost of Imperial lives, Captain."​

Ah, so he was talking to Englewood. That made sense, of course--Vicks didn't know how to socialize with anybody with a rank lower than his own, or with those who hadn't been born rich, or with...anybody, in actuality. Not real socialization, anyway. He was all puffed chest with nothing inside it except arrogance and greed and all the sorts of things that made a perfect Imperial diplomat--and a politician who didn't care about the lives of those who served the Empire. His next words, about the value of Imperial lives to the Empire, made her skin crawl. Typical.

Englewood, however, was by far more honorable. He actually cared about the lives of those under his command, he didn't wantonly throw their lives away--he knew the value of lives, Imperial or not. Would this threat from Vicks keep him from following those principles?

Nothing else came over the audio; the bug clicked off into sleep mode. The recording blinked at her, waiting to be saved with appropriate metadata. Was that something that should be kept? Levric's hand hovered over the Delete key. Vicks was vicious and cruel and nakedly ambitious and all sorts of stupid, an example of the corruption whose existence the Empire alternately encouraged and ignored--but he was also proof that grease made machines run more smoothly. This was a dilemma for Englewood and no one else. Levric clicked 'Save' and gave it a low priority flag in her files. Besides, she'd heard most of the conversations and would be able to recall it at will. It was one of those things that made her good at surveillance.

Her search through the dataset produced no results. Levric called Garcal over. "What if we're going about this wrong?" she asked.

"We're following the standard protocols for this sort of thing, ma'am," the corporal said. "What else could we be doing?"

Levric leaned back in her chair. "I don't think it's the protocols that are the problem, all of that is working just fine but maybe we're searching the wrong thing..."

Garcal smiled briefly, then said, "As in, we're looking for a needle but we need a piece of hay?"

"Exactly. If our opponents in the station are competent and clever enough to be sending this volume of traffic between the station and the ground, then they're clever enough to not put the data we want in the data we'd search first. We need to both widen our search parameters to include more than just message contents, but attachments, addresses, destinations, everything connected with each message."

"On it, ma'am," Garcal said.

"Ma'am," Colbea piped up, "it looks like they're bringing in the first pod; security chief's accompanying it in. Hangar control mentioned something about the Rebel leader. Perhaps I should wait in the brig to assist--"

He sounded like he was trying not to jump at the first chance he had in this battle to do an interrogation. Hangar control was one of the worst places for keeping secrets from their comms officers, which made it a great place for gathering news about what was going on in the ship. "If Chief Cain wants our assistance, he'll request for you or myself to show up," Levric reminded him. "Otherwise you're needed here while we do this assignment for Totter."

He nodded, clearly trying hard to not look disappointed. "Understood, ma'am. But I wanted to request--"

"That you be who I send if he asks?" Colbea nodded. "If he doesn't ask for me by name, I'm sure to send you," Levric said. Colbea grinned and turned back to his screen.

Now, back to this traffic problem.

TAG: Bravo
OOC: I plan to find the thing next post if you're cool with that; also I hope you don't mind the ears literally being everywhere.

 

IC: Flight Lieutenants Baille Harte, Alex Qipao19, UNMF Anthony Dorn-Ozo (nrc), Landing Pad and Conference Room.
Location: Lepsawn 1-9


Baille had been amazed to find the Queen and President of the planet, marching, albeit with guards, up to their armed shuttle, without a care in the world.

Anything could have happened! They could have mowed the slitch down?!

As far as she knew, neither Markova or Englewood had called ahead.

Ahead of her, as she descended the ramp, alongside Alex, the Commodore bowed, and greeted, "Madam President and Queen Natasha the Bold-"

"-and borderline drokking suicidal." She muttered to herself, doing a 180 to take in the surroundings and look out for any obvious threats to their left, while Alex did the same to their right.

They had not spoken about doing this, but the pilots had worked together long enough top know, to some extent, what the other was going to do. Like Alex' earlier comment about not waving to the Commodore. She surpressed a smile at the thought of how he had read her mind.

"You say the right words, Commodore." Suicide Sally was saying. "As all men do. But do you mean them? Or, is this pointless trip of yours of a greater plan? After all, I did forbid all Imperial transports from landing in my capital city. Your persistence won you little, other than the dungeon if you do not prove me otherwise of your intentions."

Baille, who had been looking over the honour guard, darted her gaze towards the Queen at her mention of 'dungeon'. If she actually tried that guano, Harte would put her down.

"As you wish, Madam President," The Commodore replied, apparently putting up with her guano.

"And your company?" the Queen asked, shifting attitude slightly, "Who are they?"

She had had no intention of reacting to this, thinking this meet-and-greet was purely between the top Imperial, and the top local, perhaps with the other Imperial who had walked up with her.

But then the chef went and bowed elaborately. "Master Chef Voss. At the Commodore's service." he simply stated before standing erect with a flourish of his free hand and a broad grin, while she stared at him from the side, her jaw dropped.

Drokk, what has he started? Her panicked thoughts ran down the dustier corridors of her internal Memory Palace, to call up the lesson from her old finishing school, on curtseying. I am totally not dressed for this!

She was definitely taking the Commodore's and Lieutenant Steadfast's explanations of what to expect, with a grain of salt in the future. Ground pounding to curtseying for royalty. Totally the same thing.

If your dress stops above your knees, don't touch it. Just keep your arms straight by your sides. She remembered that her class had scoffed at any femme wearing such an abbreviated outfit as hers in such rarified circumstances. Except maybe if the Emperor was meeting a group of athletic champions in their team uniforms?

Alex bowed and identified himself, then Natasha the Bold's gaze shifted to her.

Frag. Baille exhaled, put her right foot behind her left, towards eight o'clock, using her toes flat for the support and balance, lowered smoothly with her head bowed, inhaled as she rose, and identified herself when she came back up: "Flight Lieutenant Baille Harte, Your Majesty."

The Queen's attention moved without comment, onto their flower-tattooed navigator, where Markova basically blanked her!

The Corellian tugged the hem of her outfit down, in case it had ridden up, and glared daggers at the Navigation Officer's back, as they moved off.

"What the hell is Markova's problem?" Alex leaned in to whisper.

"I know." She nodded, thinking that she had definitely dodged a laser bolt. She had forgotten how much of a snob he could be.

"Too good to show respect to someone of a higher station? Granted, Lepsawn is as backwater as they come-"

"Huh, you clearly haven't been to Rafa."

"-but even you bent the knee."

Okay, there was clearly a limit to the partner-based telepathy. She had only done it because he and Voss had, before her. She didn't know if she was more upset that she hadn't realised there had been options, or that Markova had gotten away with it. Sounded like Sally appreciated the navigator's unspoken 'drokk you'.

Alex stepped away, and she was able to resume the dagger stare, all the way up to the conference room, apart from a moment when they had passed a hat stand, and she had taken an interest in a floppy wide-brimmed sun hat that had been on display, but stopped from buying anything.

* * * *
Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)

The conference room featured a long wooden oval table with expensive black cushioned wooded chairs. The oak wood table off-set with a darker wood-paneled room, which featured a gray carpet and white ceiling. Double doors lead in & out of the conference room at her end.

Everyone from the shuttle was in various places in the conference, either sitting at the table or looking at the expensive artwork lining the walls.

Alex had installed her in the corner to the left of the double doors as you entered, to keep an eye on both the interior, as well as the doors, which she was perfectly happy to do, all she needed were clear instructions.

It also helped that she had struck up a rapport with one of the UNMF soldiers, Anthony Dorn-Ozo, who had earlier quipped, "A Coruscanti cop never relinquishes her weapon."

To which she had frowned up at him, "Huh?" Then glanced down, "Oh, the STANG vest." Then she had re-frowned at him. "Wait, I know that phrase. That holo is ancient!"

"Wed Heat."

"That's right!"

A really old buddy-cop holo-movie that had paired a brash detective from Coruscant, with his stoic, humourless, Arkanian counterpart, to pursue a rogue bio-weapon scientist, thought to have gone to ground on the city planet.

Before her, Alex and Markova were sitting along the table, several seats between them, the former doing a protracted art-and-crafts project with glue, scarlet paper, and a scissors; the latter's fingers tapping her own drum solo into the wood.

That's not how you hit a drum!

As if in reaction, Markova stopped, clenched her musical hand into a fist; stood, pushing her chair back; and stepped to the wall to look up at some art.

Voss was also studying the paintings.

The Commodore, and the caped Imperial, a "Captain Vicks" of the Diplomatic Corps, were at the far end of the table, well out of her earshot.

"Three Days?!" Englewood blurted.

"Three days till what? Is that how long we have to wait till the Queen shows up?"

"Three days till a Corellian YT-1210 freighter shows up." Anthony responded from her right, the crinkled dark-grey of his uniform-sleeved elbow, level with her white shoulder armour. His faceplate was flipped up, so that it stood out horizontally from the brow of his head-encompassing helmet.

She could see his mischevious smile, eyes with twinkles of humour in them, a thin white cable that hung down under his chin, and disappeared into the rest of his dark grey battlesuit, and split into two wires that ended with ear buds that made it look like he was listening to some tunes.

If Baille leaned in with the back of her head on his chestplate, and looked up, she could see the HUD (heads up display) on the inside of the faceplate. She had actually done that, timing the fast move at a moment when none of the away team had been looking her way.

"How do you know that?"

"Room is bugged." Anthony reached up and pulled the bud out of his left ear, holding it towards her. "Want to listen?"

Baille shook her head. "We shouldn't be listening."

"Perhaps you shouldn't, but its my job. We want to know if anyone has designs on harming the Queen before we let her in here."

"Yeah, we noticed your efficiency at guarding her, when you let her march out to a a strange and un-announced spacecraft."

Tony smile thinned for a moment. "You think we wanted her to do that? She's Natasha the Bold, not Natash the Easily Dissuaded. And that's why we didn't take your weapons. If you wanted to smoke her, you could have strafed her, us, from the air."

She soon gave in, signalling for the thin wire, but by that time, Captain Vicks had moved away from the Commodore, with the Master Chef Voss quickly stomping towards Englewood.

The double doors on the other side of Tony, hummed open, another member of the UNMF leaning in with a long tan-coloured cylinder of rolled weaved fabric, which he handed to Dorn-Ozo, who thanked him, turned and passed it to Baille.

"Got this for you. I saw you eyeing it on the hat stall."

She unfurled the thing to find a sun hat, except it was clearly comedy-sized, with the brim encircling the head dome more like the two hemispheres of a poncho!

"Fire Rings of Fornax, this thing is huge! You could wrap a body in this!"

"So Sir. Shall I prepare a Corellian delicacy for him? He would-"

"Case in point."

Harte elbowed her friend in the lower torso. "Hey, Corellian food isn't that bad!"

"How come every Corellian wants to leave home at the first opportunity, then?"

"Well, it's certainly not because of the food!"

Tag: galactic-vagabond422 The Vanguard Mitth_Fisto Bravo


Notes:

The Curtseying lesson was provided by A Boyer Sister

UNMF's Anthony Dorn-Ozo is based on NCIS' Anthony DiNozzo.

Oh, and Wed Heat was based on 1988's Red Heat with Arnold Schwarzenegger and James Belushi as Russian and Chicago cops, respectively.

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Central Government Building, Landing pad Lepsawn 1-9

"This is my Star Destroyer's Navigational Officer, Natalia Markova. She----" Said navigator prepared herself to give a bow towards the Queen after her superior finished speaking but, was never given the chance.

"Looks strong," the Queen spoke stopping Natalia in her tracks, "Intelligent. Independent. Good choice, Commodore."

The dark haired woman was stunned silent, praise was not something she recived often, and never from strangers. Her mother was always the one to tell her she was good, that she was smart. The highest compliment her father could possibly give her was that she was 'above adequate', which he'd told her maybe twice in her life.

To her such comments from someone she didn't even know was surprising. So much so that all of her father's lessons on etiquette were lost in that moment.

One question ringed in her mind, What made the Queen say what she did? What did she see in Natalia in just those brief moments that would make her compliment her?

She was not strong as Natasha said, not even close. Her slight frame, and thin arms spoke to that. While she was intelligent, her test scores bore that out, how could the Queen tell that by just a look? Did she have access to their files? And independent, her, no her life was scheduled day in day out, she liked that, it took most of the thinking out of things, she could focus on her work, or deal with her own obsessive thoughts.

Like the one now eating at the back of her mind. What does the Queen see in her, and how does she see it? Was this like that old man she met on board the Darkest Night, he said that something would change how she saw her place in the universe. Was this that moment?

The question burned on the tip of her tongue, begging her to ask it as they walked. But, she could not, not in front of her commander and a retinue of guards. Maybe in the opportunity presented itself and she could speak to the Queen alone possibly. However she knew the chances of that happening were slim to none. However the thought was in her head now, she had to get it out.

__________
Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)

Back at her seat she noticed Chef Voss talking with the Commodore again preventing her from speaking to him. In the meantime She busied herself with looking up technical schematics, or blueprints for a standard Golan II Space Defense Gun. Just a simple surface search gave her the standard accompaniment of fighters, 13, a list of armaments, turbolaser batteries, 35, proton torpedo launchers, 10, and Tractor beam projectors, 8.

What she needed was a layout, something to tell her where the data core would be, were the bridge was, where everything was. The more she knew the more prepared she would be to face the challenges before her. She would search the entire holo-net, even the darker places a good Imperial wasn't supposed to look. She knew what she was doing, she knew what to select and what not too. Besides it was to further the goals of the Empire, anything done to that end could not be so bad.

For just a moment she looked to the doors, wondering when the Queen would make an appearance.

TAG: Sith-I-5 The Vanguard Mitth_Fisto Bravo

 

IC: Lieutenant Steadfast
Aft Hanger Control, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9

"Hanger control, Shinzon." He commed back to the hanger bay that was tasked with taking in the escape pods once they had been neutralized and inspected. "We have a pod here that IDed itself as containing the Rebel commander and his staff. It's been gassed and..." he looked to the inspection team which gave him a thumbs up. "And is ready to be brought in. Make sure you have a detachment ready to..." he looked back out into space as his stomach lurched. They had the command staff, and that deserved his full attention. "Never mind, I'm headed in to take them into custody myself." He started to jet towards the hanger bay as soon as he saw the pod ensnared in the tractor beam.

Steadfast smiled. Well, that went off reasonable well.

He knew Shinzon to be a man of honor and duty. So the Senior Lieutenant wouldn't hamper the man's efforts. Instead, he had other fish to fry, mainly keeping the hour-to-hour operations of the Star Destroyer going, while Duke kept the ship upright with quality leadership. But, a brief show of the Command Staff was only routine after such a big "catch". While Steadfast knew that Shinzon would rather drink rancor urine then accept praise for a job he was expected to do, the rank-and-file enlisted needed a good clap on the shoulder every so often to keep morale in line.


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

Aft Hanger


Shinzon was still getting out of the zero-G suit, as he barked orders around as the "command staff escape pod" was lowered into place by a tractor beam. With Stormtroopers otherwise occupied either on planet or in the medical bay with the recent explosion earlier, security fell squarely on Shinzon's Imperial Navy Troopers. It was a fact of life that Steadfast knew Shinzon would use to his advantage later, when the Star Destroyer's operations reports came out during the Command Staff & Senior Staff Officers' weekly meeting. The Security Chief would highlight his troopers' proficiency at the zero-G environment and the command staff escape pod security detail. It would be Shinzon's usual turn to get his way in certain dealings with Stormtrooper assignments, among about a dozen other things.

The Senior Lieutenant sighed. Politics aside, Shinzon was one of the best Security Chiefs he had ever seen in action.

Clearing his throat, the Duros spoke out as the Chief of Security was clearly busy, "Chief Shinzon, a word please?"

Steadfast had received a priority message from Duke. The contents of the message were clear: on a need to know basis. Clearly, Shinzon needed to know.


TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Master Sergeant Dax & Master Sergeant Davis
Bottom Level Lobby Area (East Tower), Central Government Building, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)



Dax put his legs up on the table covered with flimsiplast magazines, while he lazily opened up another one while eating a few Nerf nuggets. The wireless, transparent miniature ear bud in his right ear was barely visible, unless someone was looking directly into his ear with a light. The chatter between Captain Vicks & Commodore Englewood buzzed in his ear, before suddenly coming to an end. Thanks to the Military Intelligence attachment aboard the Darkest Night, Dax now knew there was someone of some relative high functioning thought process aboard the Star Destroyer, as they had crafty located the hidden miniature spy bug on the Captain's clothing through surveying known Military Intelligence data signals and comm frequencies.

It was common practice for agents to piggy-back off of other agents' field equipment. But, for relatively new officers, this practice was complex and difficult, as it required essentially slicing into top secret Imperial signals with an pre-approved ID number from Military Intelligence, which prevented an army of Imperial troops descending on your location and killing you (but also allowed other Military Intelligence field agents to track you, who were using the same equipment originally). But, this payoff also came with it's problems. That meant that nothing was truly secret in Military Intelligence to anyone with the right training, signal codes, and top secret clearance. A course, for the more savvy field agents, finding ways to mask one's identity from their own government was an acquired taste and art. A dangerous game to play if caught by Imperial officers, but one that paid off in the long-run to truly run "off-the-grid" as a spy.

As for Dax and his partner Davis, they had their ways to spy off-the-grid. But only used it when necessary. The likes of Captain Vicks did not warrant such an extreme breach of Military Intelligence.

His comm bug crackled and beeped.

A new player had come online.

"So, what you think?" came Davis' voice, who was sitting in a hover vehicle outside the East Tower.

"The sooner Wonder Boy gets done playing politics, the sooner we can get out of here. This lobby music is killing me," Dax replied as he faked to read the magazine in front of him, as he talked back and his mouth was hidden by the reading material.


TAG Laine_Snowtrekker (reference as needed)

 

IC: Queen Natasha the Bold (retroactive post)
Landing Pads outside Central Government Building, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)


"Yes M'Lady. I was a rogue. Then I was something I don't think you are cleared to know, but my specialty and my passion is the look on a crewman's eyes when they get that wonderful taste of something that makes all cares disappear." With a slight rubbing motion at his hip and upper leg that lead to the prosthetic he did his best to smile without a grimace. Of all the fraking times for it to act up with those 'phantom' pains. "Truly is there anything better? Perhaps M'Lady would like a demonstration? Just name the five best meals of your life and I will try to steal the place of one. Eh?"

Natasha smiled in gratitude. "Master Chef Voss, as much as I would love to take you up on your offer, you of all people should know the security routines for heads of state and their meals. One cook and one cook alone may cook meals for me. While I must admit, I am intrigued by your skills----both in the kitchen and, it seems, beyond the kitchen---such an event is impossible in an enviornment such as this," she spread out her arms and highlight the government buildings behind her, "But, in a setting less formal, I would be more then willing to taste your cooking ability."


TAG Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
Main hanger, ISD Darkest Night, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

Cradling his buy'ce (helmet) in the crook of his left arm, Shinzon wiped the cold sweat from his brow with his right hand. Anyone watching would probably think he had simply over heated out there, either as a result of his beskar'gam's internal heater, or possibly even exertion. He doubted anyone would know his perspiration was a result of the psychological toll it took on the Mandalorian chief of security being out there in the vacuum of space. He was glad to be back aboard the Star Destroyer, and even more pleased to have the Rebel command staff in custody, or near custody he noted as the escape pod was brought in gingerly. Sliding his helmet back on over his head he motioned for the Naval Troopers to take their positions and begin securing the unconscious prisoners for processing and placement in the stockade. "Inform MI (military intelligence) that we have the command staff. I'm sure Levric and her minions will want to have a go at them," he ordered the troopers who moved to obey.

Moving forward to see the pod opened up, Cain was intercepted by Lieutenant Steadfast, the Duros. Cain didn't bother concealing the near snarl on his face at the sight of the being, his faceplate would do that for him in this case, but even then Cain wouldn't have bothered hiding his disdain for the Imperial officer. Despite his name, Steadfast was a weakling, and weaklings had no place on a Star Destroyer, much less one of the prestige held by the Darkest Night.

"Chief Shinzon, a word please?"

Cain regarded the being, with his peg leg and eye patch. Disgusting that resources were wasted on such an "officer."

"Very well Leftenant," he used the ancient Coruscanti pronunciation as a matter of course, though he was clearly agitated by Steadfast's interruption. "What do you have for me?"

TAG: Bravo, Laine_Snowtrekker (for news that the Rebel command staff is in custody)

 

IC: Queen Natasha the Bold
Conference Room (East Tower), Central Government Building, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)


Queen Natasha entered the conference room, a full company behind her of three Royal Handmaidens, followed by a Royal Messenger and the Grand Royal Adviser of the Islands. Two UNMF personnel finished up the company as escort as the doors closed behind them.

"Chairs," the Queen said with a patient smile, "Please."

After everyone was sitting---the Queen at the head of the table with the two UNMF personnel flanking her behind her chair, while the rest of her company was spread around the table closet to her---the Queen began.

"I must apologize for my delay," she said, pausing for a moment as she shared a quick glance with her Royal Messenger---Xavier Simpleton---before continuing, "We had come pressing matters of State to deal with. I'm sure you all can appreciate that, considering our wartime circumstances."

"My office was not informed of any developments," Captain Jeffery Vicks voiced, "Is everything alright, m'lady?" the diplomatic shared a look with Englewood, who shrugged, as he checked his comlink.

"The Darkest Night hasn't reported any developments, Madam President," Engelwood replied.

"This is not a Imperial matter," Natasha replied, "Rather a United Islands issue. So one I do not expect either you to know about. With that said, Commodore and Captain, I have decided that I am going with you on the attack to the space station above my planet."

"Huh?" was all Vicks could muster, choking on the water he was sipping and having to cough several times to clear his throat.

Englewood smiled as Vicks choked on his own water.

"M'lady," Vicks said a moment later as he dried his mouth with a napkin, "With all due respect to you---"

"What, Captain Vicks?" the Queen cut him off, "Am I incapable of fighting for my people? Is it because I am a woman?"

"No, M'lady," Vicks said, trying to repair damage with his own words, "But, ah, Commodore Englewood and myself were just discussing that a better option would be a direct assault on the space station with our Star Destroyer. Why, Madam President, put your life at risk for a task that a Star Destroyer can easily handle?"

"And why, Captain Vicks, put the life of many at risk, if we may achieve the same mission with the sacrifice of a few?"

"Madam President, I would be greatly besides myself, if I did not mention how am I suppose to provide Imperial support if you are on a mission?"

The Queen smiled, "Why, Captain Vicks, you'll be coming with me. Didn't you mention something along the lines of, let me think here---oh yes--the value of an Imperial life?"

"That was a private conservation, Madam President," Vicks said, jaw set in anger that his conversions were being wire taped for a unknown amount of time now, "And with all due respect, it is illegal---"

"Illegal!?" the Queen slammed her fist down on the table, which sent a vibration through the wood, "You are on my planet, Captain. In my capital city, Captain. And you are sitting in my Central Government Building, Captain. And I am the Queen of the United Islands and the Planetary President of Lepsawn One-dash-Nine. No where, Captain, did I mention you owning anything. Furthermore, I did not grant the Imperial Military rights over my planet. I simply asked your government to assist in restoring peace to my planet."

"Madam President, I didn't mean to----"

"Withdraw all Imperial military forces from my planet, immediately, that came from that Star Destroyer and any other Imperial ships in orbit around my planet. You have twelve hours."

Vicks just sat there, unable to move or speak.

"Madam President," Englewood asked gently, "And of our mission to the space station?"

"I gave you twelve hours, Commodore. You, your team, Captain Vicks, and myself will continue on this mission of yours. Maybe, Commodore, you and your team can restore the trust and faith in the Empire that Captain Vicks has lost upon me and my people."

"Yes, Madam President," Commodore simply replied.

"Good," the Queen stood up, "I'll have my people prepare a transport for us at the local spaceport. Be there, Commodore, in one hour. Xavier, my aide here," she nodded towards him, "Will make all the arrangements for you and your team."

Soon there-after, the Queen left, Xavier saying on his way out that he would find Englewood and his team for the ride in twenty minutes and to wait in the conference room. Captain Vicks excused himself shortly afterwards as well,to go use the refresher.

"Well," Englewood said to the suddenly quiet room and his team only left inside, "That was rather unexpected. No pressure."

But in the back of his mind, Englewood wondered what the Queen meant by this is not a Imperial matter. Certainty, from the look of things, everything seemed to be involving the Empire, especially with the recent withdraw order.


TAG ALL in conference room
OOG: I have more to add to this post, but my wife is forcing me to come to bed. So, I'll have to continue it at some other point, this week. But feel free to respond to what I have posted so far.

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)

Natalia kept her head down continuing to search for information, she wanted to know everything she could before stepping foot on that station. Her mind was focused on the task time passed without her realizing. She often lost time while she was working solely on the thing before her. It helped cut away distractions, the constant intrusive thoughts that derailed her, sent her down useless tangents or filled her mind with lilting notes.

The sound of the doors opening pass her by she didn't look up until the Queen spoke. Again she had a retinue of attendants, and soldiers. Natalia looked across all of them the Queen, the extravagantly dressed man with a cane and black hair, was that some uniform of station or just personal preference? Then the old man in flowing robes and a long beard, his garb was similar to the younger man next to him, white and gold, were they related or held equivalent station? Behind the Queen were three women dressed exactly the same as each other, servants of some kind?

The navigator's fingers were frozen just a few centimeters above the data pad, as the Queen addressed them. Natalia did what she could to keep her attention on the royal addressing her, trying to make up for her mistake on the landing pad.

As she felt her mind turning to the datapad in front of her the Queen said something unexpected.

"... I have decided that I am going with you on the attack to the space station above my planet."

Natalia's half turned head snapped back around her eyes slightly wider than normal. The diplomat objected, rightly, the loss of both president and queen would leave a power vacuum, with people vying for the crown or the office. Was there a clear line of succession? Who took over for the queen if she were to perish. Would this new leader work with the Empire as this one had?

The conversation continued with more details being revealed. The diplomat and the Comodore had changed the plan, a direct assault with the Darkest Night, before Natalia had time to process that the queen told, ordered the diplomat to accompany her while on the satation.

Could she do that? He was a diplomat and citizen of the Empire, a local ruler could not order servants of the Emperor around as if they were hers.

And yet more revelations were given, the Queen was listening to everything said in this room. Natalia had not heard the 'private conversation' the Captain referenced but, it was clear that he was not happy about that being public knowledge.

And finally the Imperial Forces, the ones working to restore peace to her planet were to be gone from the surface within 12 hours. Another haughty demand. The Empire was here to complete a mission, they should not and would not leave until the mission was over. This Queen asked for help and is now throwing it away like a petulant child would a toy they'd grown bored with. Natalia's face soured a bit but, she kept her thoughts to herself. Things had already gone poorly and it was not her place to correct a head of state.

The navigator remained quiet as the Queen exited, her thoughts still swimming. If this was not an Imperial matter, why involve them at all. A withdraw order had been given, should not they leave as well. This was just one planet in a galaxy of many. Why should they remain, put their lives on the line for an ungrateful woman.

However, that ungrateful woman was also putting herself in harm's way. Working with Imperials to free her planet. It was admirable in a manner of speaking. It was also reckless, you do not see the Emperor taking the field to protect his citizens. That is because the best leader is an alive one. What orders can a dead Emperor make, what laws can they pass if they cannot draw breath?

The soft soothing sounds of the viol began to invade her mind again. Her hand began to lightly, gently tap on the hardwood surface. She tried to stop herself to retrain her mind on the datapad but, it just wouldn't listen the notes took over more and more of her faculties. Everytime she tried to read the text scrolling across the screen she couldn't get more than a sentence in before the vexing melody demanded her attention.

She knew she was just stressed, that she was just avoiding having to think about the danger, now needless danger she faced. The commodore had said nothing of aborting the mission, it was still on, and he knew everything she did. He had all the information, the slapping away of the Empire's hand.

When she found she could not longer hold the questions inside she stood up and walked next to the comodore.

"Excuse me sir," she started respectfully and quietly in her soft voice, "Why are we continuing with this mission? It is obvious that Queen Natasha does not want us here, she has ordered us off her planet why continue to assist when she's made it clear she does not want it."

TAG: Bravo Sith-I-5 The Vanguard Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
Landing Pads outside Central Government Building, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)

Natasha smiled in gratitude. "Master Chef Voss, as much as I would love to take you up on your offer, you of all people should know the security routines for heads of state and their meals. One cook and one cook alone may cook meals for me. While I must admit, I am intrigued by your skills----both in the kitchen and, it seems, beyond the kitchen---such an event is impossible in an enviornment such as this," she spread out her arms and highlight the government buildings behind her, "But, in a setting less formal, I would be more then willing to taste your cooking ability."

With a nod and another ridiculous bow he let her be on her way, "I shall look forward to such a guarded moment then, hopefully it shall come soon."

TAG: Bravo

[
Conference Room, Central Government Building (East Tower)

The sound of the doors opening caused Jingle to look to see the grand entrance. Queen spoke. Again she had a retinue of attendants, and soldiers. Once they had all followed her orders, which to Jingle's own sadness was before a response by the Commodore, the Queen began to address them. To say it was interesting was a bit of an understatement.

The most interesting thing of all was when the Queen said something unexpected.

"... I have decided that I am going with you on the attack to the space station above my planet."

The conversation continued of course with more details being revealed. The diplomat and the Commodore had changed the plan, although he suspected in fact only the diplomat had changed it to a direct assault with the Darkest Night.The queen in turn told, ordered the diplomat to accompany her while on the station mission, man he was starting to really like this queen as he grinned widely at her and her fetching handmaids.

Not to do but watch and listen, listen and watch.

When Navigator could not longer hold the questions inside she stood up and walked next to the Commodore.

"Excuse me sir," she started respectfully and quietly in her soft voice, "Why are we continuing with this mission? It is obvious that Queen Natasha does not want us here, she has ordered us off her planet why continue to assist when she's made it clear she does not want it."

Good question of course, except the answer to Jingle was simple. Soldiers don't like leaving a mission undone.

TAG: @Meeting peeps

 

OOC: Sorry that I dropped off the face of the planet for approximately a week. I've had these tabs up since Sunday and just got to making a post today.

IC: Gwen Levric
Military Intelligence Squad Room, Darkest Night

Levric dropped the connection with the bugs down on the planet once her console had pinged the piggybacked bug as being Imperial; she'd intended to be listening in on the UNMF feeds rather than the Empire's. No need to double-dip on an Imperial source--besides, it didn't necessarily have a good look, if she were to be identified as the person who'd done so, if things shook out badly. While she definitely wanted to keep tabs on Englewood and the away team, seeing as she was unsure of what exactly the Commodore's plan was, it wasn't worth getting flagged for something as simple as piggybacking surveillance. Even if she'd been using the Darkest Night's MI legitimate slicing code, it wasn't worth it. No, not worth it at all.

Her comm buzzed, shaking her out of that train of thought, and she answered it. "Levric here."

The clipped tones of one of Shinzon's minions came into her headphones. "The Rebel command staff have been secured by the security teams, Lieutenant," the trooper said.

"We'll have someone on the way there shortly, clear," Levric said. She pinched the bridge of her nose and momentarily closed her eyes. Too much. Some days it was all just too much. This was the type of day Baisfre had warned her about. She opened her eyes again and began issuing orders. "Sergeant Colbea, you and Braxhave head to the brig; the security teams have the Rebel command. Ascertain as much as you can from them, especially anything about the Golan II and about the criminals who keep them funded down on the planet. If you run into any difficult cases, comm me and I'll deal with them myself."

"With pleasure, ma'am," Colbea said, his eyes alight with the possibility of threatening someone, and he and Braxhave moved to obey.

Levric turned back to her console, where a results box waited, listing the data packets and attachments that had been filtered out from the main bulk of the messages between the ground and the station. She stared at the list, skimming for anything out of the ordinary. One item, a data burst labeled with several different beginning and end points, appeared several times in the list, the destinations and timestamps different, which accounted for it being listed several times. It was also encrypted a second time, which should have gotten it flagged by the initial searches, but alas! the computers were smart, but not smarter than actual intelligence agents.

Where do you start, and where do you end? I'm going to find where you come from and whether you're of importance.

Levric found the latest timestamped iteration of the data burst and entered its metadata (timestamp, starting location, ending location) into a separate sheet. Then she found the next latest and did the same, then repeated that action, again and again and again and again, tracing the packet's travel through the system. Because the bloody thing was traveling throughout the entire Lepsawn communications network--here in a Neglected City to some cheap satellite in the residential sector of the Capitol, piggybacking off the media network on the planet (at one point it had spent half an hour bouncing from local station to local station, of course), hopscotching its way from continent to continent and city to city, back and forth between weather satellites and spy satellites and radio satellites. It looked like it had been deliberately designed to look like it came from everywhere and nowhere--which was suspicious, seeing as that really wasn't how transmissions typically worked.

And whoever had designed it had been blastedly dogged about it being nearly untraceable. Ugh, spies.

Of course, Levric knew a thing about doing this sort of thing--one of her sanctioned Imperial aliases essentially functioned as a creature of the relays, ostensibly to duck letting their employers know about the black market deals they made and hide where information was coming from. Doing this sort of thing was covered in school--and either the Rebels had gotten better at espionage, or they'd employed somebody trained by the Empire, someone who'd been trained like Levric had been. Probably the former, as intelligence officers were highly vetted even before they finished school; most would find it unfathomable to be working for anyone other than the Empire.

She had a long list of starting and ending points, detailing the packet's merry trip through the networks and ending at the station. The initial starting point was still a mystery, other than 'On Lepsawn 1-9', but its end point was decidedly the Golan II.

Now that the data burst was decidedly suspicious, she called it up and ran it through a decryption program, which spat strings of data onto her screen. No spaces, just a fantastically long line of mostly gibberish, with some words and numbers, which probably meant a sort of cypher or another layer of encryption. She hit a button that broke it up in to lines in order to see it better.

Why was nothing ever straightforward with spies? Honestly.

Levric scanned the strings of data, then spotted something...well, something odd. In one specific part of the nearly meaningless (without context, anyway) bits of data, there was a familiar string of numbers. A very familiar string of numbers--it was a nine-digit code that was drilled into every MI officer's mind, if they were of high enough rank, or clever enough to find it out, a nine-digit code that was only found in Imperial communications, a nine-digit code only found in specific MI communications, a nine-digit code only found in the most sensitive and classified MI communications. A nine-digit code that had no record of having been taken by Rebels. A nine-digit Imperial code that had no business being in communications that were ostensibly to and from Rebel units.

This was above her pay grade, that was for sure. Levric thumbed her comm and connected to Totter's device, then calmly spoke as if this were her routine report, as it was right around the hour mark he'd asked for. "Captain Totter, I believe we have found something," she said. "I would like to give my report to you and you alone, or perhaps directly to the Commodore. Is that a possibility? Over."

I have a bad feeling about this.

TAG: Bravo (please note that she's speaking calmly as if this is the routine report Totter's expecting); Bardan_Jusik (I can play the MI NPCs if you do not want to; I'm still making Braxhave's CS)