Star Wars STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)---Always taking new players!

IC: House of Royal Intelligence Field Officer
Actualize Station


"Secure. I believe you have more to say."

For all the intelligence man's pride, standing tall and secure before this weary bunch of soldiers, he couldn't help but flutter in his step of arrogance with the deactivated weapon under his chin.

"I wouldn't," A man said, it seemed, from thin air. Suddenly six humans materialized out of thin air at different points in the hanger, forming a half circle between the intel officer and the naval guards. The men wore the following, minus all the G.I. Joe stuff, weapons, and gold wrist bracelets; everything on the upper body is black, no markings etc. (and replace the visor with a black visor). The two wrist bracelets are replaced with a wrist chronometer on one wrist and a MM9 rocket system on the other. Each had a blaster holster on each outer thigh, carrying a S-5 heavy blaster pistol in one and a DE-10 blaster pistol in the other. The ammo webbing around the mid-section, carried a variety of ammo grenades in three pockets and emergency rations and water in the fourth pocket; a combat knife is attached to one of the straps on the front chest. The belt around the waist carried extra ammo still, comlinks and other devices for a mission, and a mini-first aid kit. Across their back they had a E-11 blaster rifle scrapped across their back. The interior of their helmets had a build-in comlink and the visor had---being rated to Imperial Stormtrooper Armor helmet Soldex automatic polarizing filters---night vision and heat sensor vision capabilities and a mini computer for accessing local communication and computer networks, all build in (except for the comlink) into the bulky visor:




"Put the weapon down," The man then looked to the intel officer, "You and your Naval Guards can leave."

The officer, for all the pride of the House of Royal Intelligence, knew who he was when compared to the masked man talking to him and submitted, "Yes, sir."

When the officer and the guards left, the man who had done the speaking to disengage the hostile situation, did a wrist movement and the 5 others with him turned and walked out of the hanger bay, leaving one to guard the exterior blast door and one to stay behind inside the hanger bay by the interior blast door. Once the blast door closed, with the other soldier guarding it, the man turned his attention to Jeth and the survivors of the 122nd. He took off his helmet, showing a strong and rigid face with piecing blue eyes and a strong chin. By his body alone, he looked extremely well in shape, like the bodies of the Queen Guardsmen.

"Captain Joseph Howard, Special Warfare Division. 122nd, you may go. Get some food in you. We'll debrief in thirty. A officer will be waiting for you outside those doors to show you around. Dismissed."

The rag-tag 122nd snapped to attention and then departed, suddenly showing their exhaustion from the mission. Suddenly it was Captain Howard, his other soldier by the door, and Jeth. The pilots from the shuttle had joined the departing 122nd.

"Now's your chance, Havah. You and me. You want to kill someone, you have your chance with me. If not, put the weapon away and realize that you, me, the 122nd, and everyone else on this station is in the same crap pool. But realize, and I would hope you would remember this from your special ops days, that none of us know the whole story. In fact, being special op means we do more and are even in more of the dark for the reasons as to why we did it. I don't know but three things right now. First, there's a civil war at home and I chose my side. Two, like you, I've been sucked into this Prophecy business and I didn't want anything to do with it, but I'm here now and trying my best to keep my head from being shot off. And three, I've had friends---and family---die too and it sucks carbonite balls, but I have a job to do and I do it. I keep my head on and tightly on, not for some politician, but for the man in the foxhole next to me and for my family. Now, we're either on the same page or we're not. If we are, I would like to discuss as why your here and that we know where your sister is at...but we'll need your help to get to her...and get to the rest of the Merc families before the Empire does. So what do you say?"


TAG Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Kasumi
Mess Hall

“Thanks I guess they would be proud of me. The last thing I remember my mom saying to me before the Sith Lord and dad came in. To remember that they loved me and would always be with me, she then told me to hide under the bed and not to argue. I witnessed the Sith plunging his saber right through my parents chest. I would give my right arm just to talk with them for a few minutes. I used all my pain into studying everything I could just to help prevent it from happening to some other kid, that and I had used the simulators to escape it. All of that studying and flight simulation prepared me to fight on the front lines leading others into battle. No matter the outcome.”

"Well, all of your studying paid off. You know that. Like others, you were able to move past your hurt, but not forget it. Unlike others, you were able to use that to help steer you toward a path of light, not darkness. It is that ability that sets you a part, and makes it even possible to look at completing your training and let you be able to go and find that person that you want to be with."

Tag: Fress

 

OOG: See the Rocketjock for my plea of not becoming a spammer poster.


IC: Jim Palso
Delicate Delinquent


Palso felt like he was in high school. The biggest news of the day was a girl being available on the market. It would be like sharks to blood in about 10 minutes once everyone started comlinkling their crew buddies about a available female on a mostly male crew naval vessel. Hell, Palso would take a crack at it...but that Kasumi girl that his little brother Lasso was drooling all over...the boy needed help with Kasumi. Who better then Mr. Pick-Up Himself, right?

"---Chief here gives you the list, and not before. Although..." Palso's thoughts of self-importance were interrupted, "Uh?" He asked, "Oh, yea. Got it."

A devious look crept into his eyes. "...if you are from the future, should you not already know what it says?"

"Probably forgot to write it down."

"Actually no. I wasn't born yet. About two decades or so later, to be precise."


TAG Sith-I-5

---

Hanger Bay, some time later


“Curse you for breathin' ya slack-jawed idiot,” Josch said with a start. His eyes shot open and fell upon Jim Palso, who was kicking the sole of Josch’s boot. “Mother's love. Jim. You should know better than to wake a man when he's sleepin'. It’s bad luck.”

"I've had worse luck," Jim said, picking up the flask and smelling it, "Smells good. What is it?"


TAG CPL_Macja

 

IC: Sounil Mistry, Corporal Loretta, Engineer Bromley, Chief Engineer Tim Williams, Yavscout, Delicate Delinquent
Location: Berroll’s Donn


Sounil looked up as Wolf rejoined them in the Main Hangar. He had either been hiding just outside the doors, or had double-timed it from wherever he had gotten to.

“Let's get this over with, where did they decide?” He said.

“Sergeant Vestor is preparing a room on Deck Nine. Oh, hold on, let me help.” She added, grabbing the other arm of the Imperial Loretta was lifting off the floor, the corporal muttering something in exasperation as her red flat cap slipped off her head and landed on the deck between two of the supine Imps.

“Wow, you swear like a pirate,” Mistry observed wryly.

“And if you knew anything of the Naval Guard history, you would know there was a reason for that.” Loretta straightened up her prisoner, then leaving him for the twi’lek, stepped over to the other two to retrieve her headwear, only for one Imperial to swing his bound feet across the deck to catch the back of her calves, Loretta toppling over him as her legs were swept away, and landing hard on her backside!

* * * *

Outside in the corridor, Engineer Bromley trudged towards turbolifts, leading his tired and sweaty team out of the forward section where they had completed patching the hull damage, and installing the proton torpedo launcher from their wrecked Sentinel craft.

A hut-sized metal box kept the torpedoes and their launcher sealed, and the launching apparatus was on a pair of rails allowing it to be pulled back from the hull to be replaced with another, should they get more ordnance from somewhere.

Bromley dug out his comlink and called the Chief Engineer. “Hey, we completed our job, and our cruiser now has concussion missile capability. Four missiles till we can get re-supplied.”

“Good job, Engineer. Thank your team for me, please. Knock off and get some food, drink, and rest.”

“Thank you, Chief. Out.” Bromley turned to Circuit and the others. “Chief Williams says: well done, all of you. Now, lets get some chow, and a well-earned rest!”

A ragged cheer went up from the men and women involved.

* * * *

In Yav's ready room, Tim had dropped into the chair that Palso had abandoned, and having crossed his legs, was looking across the desk at the elf. The Merc engineer had a square plack datapad on his raised knee, with fingers poised to tap data in.

"So, Palso is downstairs getting his ship prepped, and waiting on our shopping list. What do we need?"

Yavscout said nothing for the moment, thinking. How had he come to this position? He had been a shopkeeper, for drokk's sake, and now he was being expected to be responsible for the lives of a couple hundred Jod and Merc lives? Wow. "Chief, I don't want this ship to be a weapon of war. I'd be more bullish if she were, say, a Nebulon-B, or a VicStar, but even the Empire don't let these cruisers take on anything without some kind of heavy escort."

Williams nodded his understanding.

"But, we are Mercs. We are gonna get jumped by one or more Star Destroyers, that is a given. So a), we need to hope that they send in TIEs, rather than simply pound us from range, and we need stuff that will help us to survive a TIE attack long enough to get away."

"Okay, so, two replacement quad-laser cannon to replace those guarding the hangar entrances."

Yav nodded. "For starters. And if possible, I think we need a heavier variety than the Taim & Bak GX-7s, especially if those are the only guns we are going to have down there."

"Good. Good." Tim tapped that in. He had a feeling that the elf had forgotten about b), an decided not to remind him. "What else?"

"I think we need a proper strategist up here to help us find out what we are going to need, since I am just building off what the ship had before my Go Team tried to hijack her." The elf shuffled forwards in his chair, and pressed a button on his desk that connected him with one of the crewpeople manning the bridge. "Put out a shipwide call for a strategist, or anyone good at defence tactics, to report immediately to the bridge."

* * * *
Pilot Lounge



The slope-headed Starfighter Corps' officer of Manaan ancestry, was seated, unmoving, in the comfortable surroundings of the pilot officers' lounge on Deck Five.

Wing Commander Rectory Grove was a Selkath, an adopted son of the Kingdom of Jod, and a career officer within the Kings Navy branch of the Corps.
His looks seemed strange to those new to him or his species, but to his peers and crew aboard the Authority, he had been a familiar...face?

He could not believe the King-class battleship, King Alex' own, was gone.

Far as he was concerned, whoever had arranged the royal assassination, had the blood of all those who had died in the Authority's sacrifice, on their hands.

What, they thought the crew, so proud to be assigned to the Kings' own flagship, that they would be able to carry on as normal after his death?

Idiots. Scum. Idiotic scum. Traitorous idiotic scum.

Now hear this. Now hear this. Anyone with strategic defence experience, should report to the bridge, deck CT7, immediately.

The loud announcement seemed to rouse the officer.

"Ah, they are playing my tune." Rectory levered himself up out of the chair, straightened his dark grey and red uniform with clawed hands, and made sure his DE-10 blaster pistol was in place. "Teedle!" He called to the mono-wheeled waitress droid that had disappeared behind the bar with his order, "Hold my drink. Duty calls."

"Alright, Hun!" TDL responded.

Rectory nodded at some other ARC-170 pilots, and headed out.

Tag: Wolf, C.T.

 

IC: Fress Colias
Mess Hall, Sword of Justice

"Well, all of your studying paid off. You know that. Like others, you were able to move past your hurt, but not forget it. Unlike others, you were able to use that to help steer you toward a path of light, not darkness. It is that ability that sets you a part, and makes it even possible to look at completing your training and let you be able to go and find that person that you want to be with."

Fress nodded in agreement. Just that incident helped her turn into the person she was today. She had accomplished much in her lifetime. Kasumi was giving her the chance to finish her training and find someone to be with. She was grateful for Kasumi’s understanding. “Thanks, I wasn’t sure what your thoughts would be on dating. I’m grateful you understand. You’re a good friend, Kasumi.”


IC: Wolf
Delicate Delinquent

Wolf watched as Loretta went down and barely caught sight of the one Imperial hitting her with his bound legs. He walked forward with the rifle in his hand and pointed it at the Imperial and held it to his back. “Don’t make me stun you, because I don’t want to have to carry your sorry carcass to the detention level,” he wasn’t sure if there was a detention level on here or they decided to set something up on one of the other decks. But the Imperial didn’t have to know that.


Coffee_Ninja Sith-I-5

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Tatooine's Pod Racer, Malastare

Taab observed the restaurant, trying to keep an eye out for potential threats as well as watching for his contact to arrive. It was more than likely that whoever he was to meet was already here. Whoever it was managed to keep a low enough profile that Taab couldn't determine their identity though. He started to regret not wearing his full armor. Things were much easier when wearing a bucket, more could be observed and no one could ever really tell where you were looking. Still given the patrons here, his current garb was probably for the best.

He tried to look non-chalant. If his contact was here he (she?) would approach him soon enough. If the situation dragged on for any length of time Taab could always leave. But he didn't have to wait that long as a man slid down at the table across form him. "Beskaryc Taab?" The man asked. He too had gone through considerable effort to dress the part of a rough and tumble spacer. That vindicated Taab's choice to leave his beskar'gam in the Crusader even more. He paused for a moment, looking at the man through hard eyes. he was about to respond with a "why don't you tell me?" when his contact began a rather concise and surprisingly accurate account of some of his past activities. Apparently this man's group had taken a considerable interest in him.

"I could go on. But we both get the point. My employer knows you and well. But the question now becomes, are you that person? A photo does good, but so can a holo imagine or some injections to alter the facial structure. So which is it? The wrong answer and you're going to have a really bad day."

Taab took no offense to the threat. It was the mark of a professional and quite frankly Taab would have wanted the man to kill anyone who tried to impersonate him. "Great, so you've done your homework and know who I am. Now why don't you tell me who are are and what I'm doing here?"

---

IC: Atin Taab
Crusader Cockpit, docking bay 87, Port Pixelito, Malastare

Atin was getting bored. His father had told him that "the life of a solider is always hurry up and wait At'ika, get used to it," but Atin never could. He hated waiting. He fiddled with the controls of the Crusader, not actually doing anything as the engines were shut down at the moment, but he was getting fidgety. He had listened to the earpiece inside his buy'ce as his father ordered a drink from a droid and it was brought to him. But since then, nothing.

His father had the comlink in his jacket pocket, and had kept the line open between he and Atin so that the latter could respond to any trouble that the elder Mandalorian found himself in. But so far the only danger Atin could see was that of getting drunk. There were other murmered voices to be sure, snippets of other's conversation that were caught. But nothing for the Mandalorain to get excited about. This was going to be a bust.

The sound of a chair scraping back along the floor came through the link catching Atin's attention now. Someone had sat down near buir. "Beskaryc Taab?" His father didn't immediately respond. Was there something wrong? Whoever had asked him the question then started reciting portions of buir's resume. Atin sat up straighter in the pilot's chair. Some of this he had heard before, and some of the latter stuff he had actually been present for. But one thing stuck out at him. A drill sergeant on Kamino? Buir had trained Clone troopers? Atin shook his head. He had already known that buir and his elder vod (brother) had fought for both sides of the war. That had always bothered Atin, he still didn't revel in the idea of fighting for money rather than for a cause you belived in, but he knew it was buir's way.

But to have actually trained Clone troopers and then gone off and fought against them? It disgusted Atin to some degree. These were men who his father had taught to fight and survive, and Taab had then in all likelihood done his best to kill them later on. It was...disturbing, and it made Atin wonder what his father would do if they ever found themselves on opposite sides of some war on a distant backwater world. His heart sank, he already knew the answer to that question...

His father's voice came through the comlink now. "Great, so you've done your homework and know who I am. Now why don't you tell me who are are and what I'm doing here?" Atin, feeling even more alone now than before, tried to set the questions..and their horrific answers aside and concentrate on the job at hand. There would be time to work out these other issues later.

TAG: Intervention

 

IC: Dmitriy Bekhterev
Tatooine's Pod Racer, Malastare


"Great, so you've done your homework and know who I am. Now why don't you tell me who are are and what I'm doing here?"

Dmitriy smiled, "Bold and to the point, I like it," his Russian ascent was thicker then usual today in his Coruscant sounding basic, but it was okay. After two years on Malastare, he figured some of his ascent would disappear. Although at times he wondered if the HRI (House of Royal Intelligence) had forgotten about him on this forsaken dirt ball of past glories and not so bright futures, he understood HRI had a strict policy of keeping field agents at "key" points across the galaxy to form a solid intelligence network. He did what HRI wanted him to do and went back to his lonely existence until they called again. The usual calls: intelligence reports in the area, new developments, resupply of deep insertion units passing through system, tracking high profile targets, and capturing or eliminating targets. If he stayed any longer, he figured retiring out of the HRI and making a living here. Not his first choice, but also not his last, he had made friends and connections, working part-time down at the local parts store at the spaceport here. Kept his head low, brushed against a few criminals here or there wanting to "welcome" him to Malastare, but for the most part kept his nose clean, but not too clean to draw attention. He kept a extra side gig on the weekends flying planetary shuttle trips and in-system hops.

"My...government has a request of someone of your skill set. But, we also have need of your services for who you last worked for. What can you tell us of the Empire's interest with you, the freelance Javin Bucket, the Imperial cruiser Delicate Delinquent, and the mercenaries known as The Mercs and their Johnny Boy? And lastly, do you remember seeing any...strange looking capital ships? Capital ships not...well, lets say from around these parts. And what were your thoughts about those ships? And, finally, what are your thoughts regarding the Empire and their need for your employ?"

Dmitriy withdrew a credit chip from his pocket and passed it across the table, "Three thousand credits for a detailed account. My government loves details."

Dmitriy broke out a can of cigars and offered one to his guest. He lit the cigar he had and took a drag off of it for a pleasing moment. Field work, away from the office, did have it's perks.


TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Zieleb-Xan ‘Mac’ Macja
Hanger, Delicate Delinquent

“I’ve had worse luck,” Jim said

“ Fortunately, I know how to counter it; the man who did the waking offers the man who was sleeping a drink; the man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking.”[1]

Palso picked up the flask and smelled it, “Smells good. What is it?”

“It’s Erphaean spiced rum, from my home world and out of my own private stock,” Josch said, standing and dusting himself off, “Now if memory serves, you wanted to talk to me earlier. What about?”

TAG: Bravo

OOG References:
[1] Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Mess Hall, Sword of Justice, Northern Stretch


Lasso sat there, facing the fiery land scape that was the Northern Stretch, eating his food. He reflected on the last few days in "normal time," the last 2 weeks in "Jod time". Everything had seemed to change, but everything had remained the same. It was said once by spacers that a man found himself in the deepness of space, among the stars. What did that statement mean?

He had been so busy recently that he hadn't given much thought to his loss of memories, but it appeared, they had a way of coming back.


TAG Any

 

IC: Cody
Mess Hall

Cody rubbed his eyes as he stepped through the doors of the mess hall. He noticed Fress and Kasumi quietly conversing among themselves. He walked over to the table and picked up a few things to eat then walked up to Jason and sat down with a frown as he looked out the window and silently ate the food he grabbed. He glanced at Jason noting the kid was silent. “The Northern Stretch is beautiful but deadly. Something on your mind, JR?”

Bravo

 

IC: Lieutenant Baille Hart, Agent Mitch Nifesta, Christophsis dry dock
Location: Christophsis star system


During the long journey creeping along deserted corridors, Baille had eventually realised that her idea of turning on the twi'lek and handing him over to Imperial authorities in an attempt to convince them of her bona fides, was not going to work.

She did not know how, but the Twi'lek seemed to have sensed her change of mind, for he allowed her to hold an E-11 blaster carbine, which she now cradled in a double-handed grip across her midriff as the blast doors to the docking bay slid aside before them.

The first thing that caught her eye was the tail section of a huge burgundy-coloured Consular-class cruiser that dominated the bay.
Thanks to the landing gear, she could see clean under the craft, its reflection in the shiny floor beneath it.

Baille led the way in, turning slowly as she covered all directions with the business end of her blaster, while Mitch trailed her.

He spotted the scared face of a maintenance tech emerging from bgetween two tall package crates, freezing at the sight of the armed femme in the red dress.

"Don't worry about it," Mitch assured him as he passed, "she's agoraphobic. Bad childhood experience. For feth's sake, do not invite her to see a cute vornsk puppy."

"I can hear you, you know?" She griped from forty metres ahead of him. "Houdi!"

Nifesta watched her abandon all composure to run, bare feet slapping the deck, over to her parked black V-Wing, dwarfed by the bulk of his cruiser, and leap onto the near foil, cooing over the whistling black dome to the left of the canopy.

"I had your fighter placed in here with mine before my cover got blown."

The Imperial fugitive quit stroking the black dome of her R4 unit, long enough to look over at him. "Your cover got blown?"

"Why do you think the prison guards got chopped?" Mitch slowly caught up to her. "I'm a bit of a one-trick pony at the covert insertion game, and I have done it a few days over the years. I guess news must have travelled."

A green laser bolt exploded into the back of the V-Wing's s-foil!

Baille and Mitch looked back to the entrance, to see a squad of stormtroopers enter and spread out to provide less of a target, one throwing his arms akimbo and following on his face after Lieutenant Hart's return fire hit him in the chest!

"Houdi', rear shields, NOW!"

Nothing appeared to happen, but the fierce incoming fire were now stopped a metre back of the small fighter.

"Right, your mission is going to take you to the planet Flitter, in the Tierfon system."

"Now?!" Baille lay down on the back of her fighter, sighting the stormtroopers through the folded s-foils. "You want to talk mission specifics now?"

To be continued...

 

OOG: Any connection or accidental non-reference involving the Imperial Senate and Imperial Governors and or Moffs, as in relation to Timothy Zahn's book Scoundrels, is completely accidental and guess work at best, since I've read until about 1/3 of the way down page 6 of the book as of today.

Some information below has been taken from, translated differently in words from, or ideas taken from Timothy Zahn's Scoundrels up to 1/3 of the way down page 6 (as far as I've read so far today).

---

IC: Jeff
Top Secret Underground Complex, The Organization, Corellia





His name was Jeff and he looked out below on the proceedings of the nerve center of The Organization from the "Command Box" (the glass box overlooking the photo above to the left edge of the photo). The "Box," as it was often shortened to, was darker then everything else. A handful of console stations were up in front (like photo below, excluding the Stargate layout and impose the above picture tilt---angel---of glass and view; keep the three people talking in photo, two wearing black suits and the one wearing the white under shirt can stay as is).




Jeff was a older man wearing a black business suit, in his fifties. He was average in built, stood 5'10, had gray hair, and blue eyes. He looked like a man of purpose, of direction, of order (see picture below):






Several hours ago, Emperor Palpatine shocked the galaxy; the long-held Republic Senate for thousands of years, turned into the Imperial Senate, was done away with and now Imperial Governors had direct control over their territories. From the Organization's political connections to their Coruscant pub agent, the galaxy seemed to be on the verge of fearful explosion. While Jeff was certain some of this fear was knee-jerk reaction, from the reports his staff and him and had gone over the last few hours, some of this fear was the beginning stages of a galaxy gripped by fear; this fear wouldn't show itself in full until several more months, after the knee-jerking reactions were done and the realization of the modern galaxy settled in. But, if Jeff was reading this right, the Empire might have just signed its own death sentence.

Without the Imperial Senate, it would difficult to control the galaxy without the Empire looking little more then a tyrant with a iron grip of selfishness over the galaxy; this view would only fuel rebellion groups, whether they were related to the Rebel Alliance or not was a mute point: they fired at the Empire, just like the Alliance did. While most of the Outer Rim had awaken up to the idea that the Empire was little more then a tyrant over a decade ago, most of the Core Worlds and Inner Rim still viewed the Empire as their salvation from the "traitors" of the Jedi Order and the "corruption" of the Old Republic. At least, the Imperial Senate gave those naive enough to believe that a leg to stand on for hope; the Imperial Senate gave the Emperor his creditability to still be in charge. Now, with the Imperial Senate gone, the true colors of the Empire would be shown.

Within the last six hours, 3 new "rebel" groups had formed against the Empire with the news of the Imperial Senate, the last voice of justice and fairness left in the galaxy, dissolved. While intel from field agents on these groups hinted at them being nothing more then a few freighters or small business strapped by Imperial taxes putting civilian star ships to military use, these groups would nonetheless take Imperial attention away from one part of the galaxy and put it on another, if even for a short while. Enough short while for redeploying Imperial forces to have smaller Rebel Alliance task forces slip through their defenses while they engage these new threats to the Galactic Empire. Give it a few more months and Jeff would wager to bet, as long as the Death Star was taken out of operation, that the Empire would slowly start its own drum beat to death. But, the key was that Death Star: if it stayed operational, the chances of the galaxy seeing freedom anytime soon even with the news of the Imperial Senate's end, would be hard to see.

"Director," said one of the many black-suited personnel working here, walking up to Jeff and handing him a piece of paper, "Three more freighters are broadcasting The Council's signal hidden in scambled code through piggy-backed communications from other ships in the area. They are awaiting in the staging area."

"Good," Jeff said as he finished his cup of coffee, "Send our reply back likewise, but make sure we use a source far from here."

"Yes, Director."

As the staff aid hurried away, Jeff looked out below as various black suits worked below. The Shadow War was fast approaching.

"Jenkins," Jeff said, catching the black suit man who was discussing something with two other agents while holding paper in his hands and pointing at it, "What's the news from Jod Royal Intelligence?"

"Their reporting the same as us, Director. Fear."

"Okay. Get me a line open to Actualize Station."

"Yes, sir," The agent known as Jenkins broke away from his conversation to use one of the consoles up front to contact the Kingdom of Jod.


TBC

 

OOG: I'm going to roll Jim Palso into my Bravo profile, keeping my Intervention sock for storyline purposes only.


IC: Jim Palso
Hanger, Delicate Delinquent



“It’s Erphaean spiced rum, from my home world and out of my own private stock,” Josch said, standing and dusting himself off, “Now if memory serves, you wanted to talk to me earlier. What about?”


Palso handed the flask back, "I'll make a note of that rum so I can try it next time. But," Palso said, "You may want to lay off of the drinking until we get out of this mess we're in with this whole saving the galaxy bit. So," Palso said, indicting Zieleb-Xan to walk with him towards the Hunk of Junk, "As you probably know by now, I'm the time traveling guy. Well, this time traveling guy was a bit of a Force user in his future time and still am, just choose to be more causal about it then all this hard core lightsaber stuff," Palso stopped in front of the lowered ramp of the Hunk of Junk, putting his thumbs into his blaster belt and leaning against one of the ramp struts, "Thing is, I had a Force Vision and you were in it, along with a few other people. But, you were of particular interest in the vision, because you and my little brother, Jason Lasso, were on either end of the Ilum. Question is, what does you, my little brother, me, and Ilum have in common? Any starters?"


TAG CPL_Macja

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Mess Hall, Sword of Justice, Northern Stretch



“The Northern Stretch is beautiful but deadly. Something on your mind, JR?”


Jason nodded in Cody's assessment, "Yep," he finished off a piece of chicken on his fork and looked over to the old Clone Trooper, "There's always someone else out there with more experience. I just get done with getting over being a green starfigher pilot and I get the nickname 'JR'. Don't want to know what age does to a nickname like that," Jason smiled, "What brings you out here to the Mercs little crazy mess of saving the galaxy? If we can be called the Mercs anymore, that is. Heck, I think we have like twenty different names by now."


TAG JediFalcon

 

OOG: And now to mess with people's minds.


IC: Chief Helmsman Andrew "Guiltar" Monk
Bridge, Johnny Boy, unknown area of space (below the Galaxy)


The constant warning alarm was starting to get louder and louder, like an annoying alarm clock that you couldn't hit snooze to. It was so annoying that----

ALARM!

Monk snapped awake, almost throwing himself backwards out of his chair. He looked around the bridge; everyone seemed to be asleep. He looked at his console screen---and that next to him by his Gungan male buddy and Assistant Helmsman, Jityar 'Drums' Ba'tar---both their screens were covered in drool.

"Totally off the wall, man," Monk said to himself, looking out the main bridge viewport and out to space: the galaxy seemed to be floating above them, "Totally dude." Monk said to himself in amazement, "Like Streets and Jityar and me would totally dig this---oh yea, the crew. Totally not cool man, stay focused dude," Monk told himself. He tried to nudge Jityar awake, but the Gungan snored away, "Lazy bum man," Monk cited his best-friend. But when the aspiring rock star tried to wake everyone else up, no one woke up; looking out at the asleep bridge crew---even Chris Streets was drooling in his sleep on the Command Chair----Monk said aloud to himself, "Either a totally awesome party that I don't remember, which would be many, or something totally not cool just happened. Man, I'm hungry."

Monk was about to leave his asleep comrades in the search of food, but his thought process---which seemed to only work while flying---kicked in, "Oh, totally forgot. Better check the records to see what happened. If it was a party, man, I am totally giving Cap Taller some serious dude points!" Monk walked over to his console and brought up the ship's data, "Whoa. Like not cool, dude. Reactor malfunction and tripped the life support systems, reversing the air recycling system to activate the sleeper has defensive agent. Oh, wow, totally not cool. Some crew members went bonkers and grabbed blasters and said we were under attack and used the escape pods to get to the Delicate Delinquent. But wait here bro, the system says a filtering agent was released at the same time, which..."

"That's right Monk," The activation of a blaster pistol could be heard.

Monk turned around, hands already up, "Marry Star? Our cook? Our Ma?"

Marry cranked her head, "It depends on the day. You were right about the filtering agent. Its a specific blend. Had the system inject it into certain crew quarters. It counteracts the sleeping agent and turns it into a illusion-drug. The 'sleeping' crew appear dead. It generates your worst fears and turns them into reality."

"Whoa. So kind of like those Dark Knight Batman movies I saw on holo vision the other night. Totally like...like...whoa."

"Monk, do you ever act not like trailer rock star trash?" Marry went to fire her blaster, but instead her mouth gaped open. She looked down at her mid section, a exposed mess of circuits and gears. She looked back up to Monk, who was holding a close-range shot-gun like blaster rifle.

"Yea, when you hurt my friends. Now fry in hell, b****," Monk unloaded two more rounds into the she-droid, one blowing a chunk out of her upper chest, the other taking her head clear off. As the human replica droid fell to the bridge floor, Monk stood over the smoking ruins, "And to think I liked your cooking."



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


Some time later...


Monk was looking backwards from the console station towards Captain Rick Taller, who looked healthier, "Cap, we ready to blow this joint and get to the Kingdom of Jod?"

"Yea," Taller said, who seemed to be staring off into the stars ahead, "Yea. What is real?" Taller opened his hand, clasping a piece of rock from the planet where he had meet the alien known as Time.


TBC

 

IC: Cody
Sword of Justice Mess Hall

"What brings you out here to the Mercs little crazy mess of saving the galaxy? If we can be called the Mercs anymore, that is. Heck, I think we have like twenty different names by now."

Cody smiled a bit and nodded as the kid began to unload a few things. This was the green pilot Fress told him about. Jason was in the lead and nearly got Aurora killed. “I’m Cody and was a prisoner on the block for refusing to shoot Jedi on the front line. I was arrested as another clone gave the order. I worked with Fress on the front lines from time to time, but I was assigned with Master Kenobi’s flagship. On our way through the Northern Stretch, we were being chased by one of the Jods own. Fress successfully led the web defense as Kasumi sensed the safe path through the Force. The defense had about thirty fighters. I don’t think their commander for the other Jods ship’s web defense was ready for tackling Fress head on. He tried to take her out, killed a couple of men under her command on the way to the front of the Sword of Justice where she was stationed. She left her post to confront the fighter and set a torpedo on him that was locked onto his exhaust fumes. He tried to lose the torpedo on the SOJ’s side but the torpedo followed him. She killed him. So do I continue to call you Jr or do you have a name?”

Bravo

 

OOG: Getting some pieces in place. Don't worry, "down time" will continue for a little while longer.

Coffee_Ninja, I'm going to assume you did a after-action report when you came back to the Sword of Justice, just to keep the story moving.

Coffee_Ninja, JediFalcon, Mitth_Fisto, and anyone else attached to the Northern Stretch / Actualize Station storyline, you may freely post after this post. I am simply getting the back story set and getting this post done, while I have time for the foreshadowing of Intervention: Allegiance.


IC: Jason Lasso
Mess Hall, Sword of Justice, Northern Stretch



"...So do I continue to call you Jr or do you have a name?”


"Well," Jason said, "It depends. Last time I checked I was called Jason Lasso. But," Lasso tapped the side of his head, "Had some memory loss. As far as I can gather, yep, I'm Jason Lasso. Captain Taller always called me Kid. Figure because I was the young pilot wonder with 'Natural Hands' as everyone said of me. Taller still thinks I can be this amazing leader. Nah, I figure he's taken too many blaster bolts to the head," Lasso drowned the last of his coffee and looked out at the Northern Stretch as it started to give way to the star speckled blackness of space, "Well, that's a change of view."

Lasso stood up and walked towards the window, looking at as in the distance he could see pinpoint specs of ships in the distance against the black drop of space, "Either we're in a popular part of space or this is a fleet mobilization by the Kingdom of Jod----" Two T-65 X-Wing starfighters shot past he mess hall window so close as to rattle the window and the food on the near-by table; they sported red fuselages with white strips through their wings and along their fuselages---"And they new toys," Lasso said, making note of the X-Wings.

As if the Force was gathering the Forces of Light to it's banner, the Johnny Boy popped out of hyperspace to their port (where Jason was standing) and above, to the left of (and not through) the Northern Stretch.

Tears weld up in Lasso's eyes at seeing the Johnny Boy and he wiped the tears clear, "Now, it feels like home again. Come on Cody, lets go see what we can do!"

Jason lead the pair at a fast jog out of the Mess Hall...


TAG JediFalcon

---

If this Actualize Station was anything, it was massive. Inside one of the massive circular structures surrounding the main super structure, the Johnny Boy rested in a hanger bay, it's boarding ramps down and crew cluttering out in bunches; as for Kasumi, Fress, Cody, and Lasso---and everyone else from the Mercs and their equipment and starfighters---was unloaded behind them by several shuttles and cargo freighters from the Sword of Justice opposite of the Johnny Boy. What seemed like an eternity for Jason Lasso since seeing the Johnny Boy and Captain Taller, both sets of Mercs from the Johnny Boy and Sword of Justice meet up together in a mingled crowd between both sides in the middle of the hanger.

Jason was quick to shake hands with crew members he hadn't seen in a while, swapping short stories and promising to give more stories later. It was through this interaction with old friends and comrades that a legless man---who Lasso had already heard quick stories of being short as he greeted other Mercs---in a hover chair came up to Jason. Lasso was wearing a set of causal clothes and his Merc Jacket. He snapped to attention, giving a quick salute, "Captain!"

"At ease Lasso," Taller said; when the younger Merc had done so, Taller nodded with a smile, "Its good to have you back. I want to hear all about it, after a full work up from the Doc on your end. But first...you look different. Have you discovered leadership yet?"

"Sir?" Jason asked, a bit confused.

"Remember Lasso, I told you that I thought you were a leader. Even as a green pilot, I put you in charge of a flight. You made some bone-headed decisions, almost got Fress killed, but it seems that you've survived he exodus and Fress is still alive. She may still want to kill you, but from that look in your eyes, I want to wager to bet you've learned something you don't know know you've learned yet."

"Ah sir, is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Lasso asked with a lop-sided smirk.

"It depends on who your asking," Taller said.

---

Lasso was certain that even if someone gave him a month, he still couldn't memorize this station. The place was huge with more levels then---well, more levels then Jason cared to think about. The place was like its own city, with restaurants, bars, shops, and even libraries. Jason looked up at Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook, who seemed to be finished with his review.

"All good Doc?" Lasso asked.

Russel sighed in one of the many station's medical bay, "Medically? Your fine. But---"

"Good," Jason said, springing off the bed and to the floor, putting his shirt back on over his scared back and torso from the wiping from Hilick Soal'ss stormtroopers.

"---Not so fast," Russel said as Lasso was already half-way ready to leave, "Captain Taller needs a after-action report from both you and Kasumi."

"Have the Captain look for Kasumi's," Jason said, adding, "It'll have all the detail you need."

"Look Jason---"

"Don,t," Jason fired back, "You have no flipping idea the hell I've been through since The Block. NO IDEA! And I don't need you or anyone else snooping around for answers. I'm here, I'm breathing. For now, that should all be what is needed. We're mercenaries, not a military outfit. I shouldn't be required for any after-action report. And until I'm ready to discuss what is on Kasumi's report or anything after that, I'm not saying a word."

Lasso brushed past Russel on his way out, grabbing his Merc Jacket from Russel's chair on the way out. Cook called out to Lasso's retreating back, "Lasso, at least tell me something! What happened out there?"

Jason stopped just before the blaster doors leaving the medical bay where two Naval Guards flanked the door and turned around; the bed where Cook took a look at him a straight line ahead in sight, a whole ward of beds and medical staff behind that like busy bees checking out various Mercs and Jod alike, "Imagine someone looking into the deepest parts of your soul and yanking your soul right out from you. That's how it felt."

Lasso departed the medical bay, the medical doors opening and then closing behind him.

Russel Cook just stood there, not knowing what to say.

---

Several hours later


Lasso sat at one of the many restaurants, crowded during the night hours. Lasso took another sip of the half glass of Whyren's Reserve, before putting it down, staring into the amber colored drink. The wine of a hover chair could be heard, a organic waiter moving the wooden chair out of the way, as the man in the hover chair moved into the table.

"You know," Captain Taller said, "It's not very nice to brush off the doctor. After all, he can save your life. Or make it a living hell, depending on how you treat him. And, from what I can remember, going to the gym for several hours, then coming here to drink some alcohol isn't the healthiest thing in the galaxy to be doing."

Jason shrugged with a smirk as he looked up at Taller, "I had plenty of water during the workout."

"I guess so," Taller said; the waiter came up, asked for he wanted and Taller ordered a Whyren's Reserve as well; he turned back to Lasso, "I got Kasumi's after-action report."

"PG, right?"

"More like R, with the movie genre of horror attached to it. Sith Lasso! Are you okay?"

"Dumb question, Cap, and you know it. I'm okay. I'm fine, breathing, can still chew gum. I can still zip up my fly. We're doing good. Just a bit quiet, that's all. And want some revenge, some real, real bad revenge. And I figure, after all the Sith I went through with Hilick Soal, that I'm stuck in this Prophecy thing and I better as well do my best and ride it out to it's conclusion. Whether I die or live at the end of it, I don't know how much of that matters. I just want to see it end. I want my life back. My soul back. We started this journey back on Watava, over a piece of rock that Nick Skyland and I found. Now look at where we're at! Watava has been Delta Base Zero, a good quarter of the Mercs have been killed or are missing, we got tangled up into this stupid Kingdom of Jod prophecy crap that somehow we're the center of, and most of our starfighter pilots either bit the farm, went missing, or bugged out when the money was still good. Hell, it's been so long since we've been the Mercs over Watava, I wonder, are we still Mercs?"

Taller nodded, "Come with me."

Both men got their drinks and left for the Johnny Boy.

---

Johnny Boy, Marauder-class corvette


Aside from Merc and Jod maintenance crews and some Merc security droids and the organic security team watching the holo cameras for security, the Johnny Boy was empty. Taller rode alongside in his hover chair while Lasso walked besides him. They walked through the hanger, intending to walk deeper into the ship.

OOG: Listen to music until 5:45; the video itself can be of a mirror into the Johnny Boy.



Lasso's footsteps and Taller's hover chair echoed throughout the hanger bay. Taller began as both looked around the hanger.

"Her keel was laid by Sienar Technologies several years before the start of the Clone Wars. She was first owned by a small planetary government in the Outer Rim. Was there for the majority of the Clone Wars, before the Confederacy of Independent Systems invaded the planet in the second year of the war. I remember seeing her then first, coming down from the sky like a shinning bird. Her turbolaser cannons rumbled across the sky, striking the CIS positions advancing on my brigade's small out-post; I was a young infantry Lieutenant then commanding a non-clone platoon. Her double turbolaser clusters on her wing-tips lit up the day sky with thundering green bolts that turned the ground that the CIS was advancing upon into dirt and debris. She rocketed away from the ground support role, her engines rocketed so close over us that we had to get down least we get blown away from our defenses. I watched her then, fly away towards space. There was something about her that spoke to me. Maybe it was the sun reflecting off of her mint condition hull. I don't know. All I know is that I remembered every last detail of her hull when she flew over us so close.

"We ended up winning that battle. But I heard months later, the CIS made another run at the planet and this time, without a Republic Fleet in support, the small planetary government's forces, even with a Clone garrison there, couldn't hold back the onslaught. With the planet lost to the CIS, I devoted my spare time and resources into finding that ship that saved our brigade that day. While I know its the man behind the machine that makes the machine, for whatever reason, the Johnny Boy always stuck in my spirit as something special. I ended up finding her after the end of the Clone Wars, abandoned on Port Haven's beeches. Port Haven's de facto governor, Hallomar, was trying to sell her for whatever he could get. The ship looked in pretty bad shape.

"I asked Hallomar what happened. He winced at that question. He said that the Johnny Boy, nicknamed as such by the crew from the small planetary government, had carried women and children survivors from that planetary government here. Along the way, the Johnny Boy had withstood a relentless pursuit and attacks from CIS forces. When she dropped out of hyperspace over Port Haven, she only had one engine left, most of her government crew was dead, and most of her weapon emplacements were destroyed. Her hull, from the mint condition I first saw it, was battered and broken. The Johnny Boy was broadcasting an emergency signal, indicating civilians on board. The CIS dropped out of hyperspace right behind them. Hallomar was able to muster the local smugglers into a effort to rescue the ship from the CIS. They did, but by the time they destroyed the last of the droid ships, the Johnny Boy was aflame and going down to the planet below. The smugglers were able to tractor beam her and slow her descend into the water below.

"By the time they got the ship to the beech and opened the hatch, all of the government crew was dead. Mirco-fractures in the hull had spread from the intense beating it had taken over its escape, finally ripping holes into the armored hull on its final approach to Port Haven and whoever had survived from the government crew was dead by the decompression. It wasn't pretty Hallomar said. Most of the interior of the ship was dangling wires, ruptured pipes, blown out quarters, fires, debris, and broken bodies. When the smugglers got to the passenger hold, they found the women and children. Not a single one hurt. If the Johnny Boy would of taken a few more hits, her reactor would of been exposed and gone critical. But, she didn't. The Johnny Boy endured, keeping those women and children safe until it couldn't hold out any longer.

"Hallomar said that just after they got the last passenger quarter door opened and got the last woman and child out, the ship's reactor failed, turning off and the whole ship, from bow to stern, went silent and dark. It was said that the smugglers stood there, in honor, of a ship that did it's duty to the last. For another year, the Clone Wars dragged on, and the Johnny Boy sat on the beech, in disarray. The government crew had long since been put to rest further in-land. But Hallomar couldn't find anyone to take the vessel, even for parts. Some of the smugglers who saved the women and children that day said it should stay as it should, in honor of it's sacrifice. Some of the smugglers who would fly in for supplies and rest, who weren't there that day, claimed the ship was haunted. Hallomar always knew something different though.

"When I came along," Taller was said, opening the blast doors to the bridge and him and Lasso entering, "I told him my story. Hallomar said one of the government had kept a journal and had mentioned my brigade. Hallomar went on to say that if I felt that connection to the ship that he did, then it was mine for a small fee. I paid it. When he went to take me on board for the first time, he said that the ship's reactor had shut down years ago and no one was ever able to restart it. Even the savvy of savvy techs weren't able to get her running again. When I stepped on board, through the hanger the first time, I felt something, as if this was home. I went to the bridge with Hallomar. Hallomar pressed button after button and nothing happened, even sitting in the Captain's Chair and trying.

"I asked him to get up and I sat in the Captain's Chair. I felt around, feeling the seat, closing my eyes and sensing the ship. I sat back in the chair, putting my arms over the armrest, and the reactor core started up. Lights flickered on..."


TBC
OOG: Ran out of time, need to get back to work. I will finish this tonight. Call me a softy or whatever, but as I was typing this and listening to the posted music, I was tearing up. Maybe after almost 4 years, the Johnny Boy is a part of me (like Intervention). I don't know. But it touched my soul somewhere.

OOG 2: Everyone else in the Northern Stretch and Actulize Station storyline, you may continue posting. PLEASE DO NOT DISRUPT TALLER AND LASSO. THANK YOU.

 

OOG: Back from work. Okay, to finish this. I know the last time I had posted for Terrell Vacks was on the DD, well since I kind of placed him in limbo ever since then months ago, lets pretend that somehow he made it back to the Johnny Boy at some point. I know, lame, but I kind of need him for this post and he's been, well, just in limbo since.

The same video/music from above is playing once again, but this time only to 3:59.

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Johnny Boy, Marauder-class corvette


Taller moved his hover chair up to in between and forward of the Commander's and Captain's Chairs. He looked out across the bridge and through the transparisteel viewports of the bridge. While the view was of the station's hanger, Lasso could feel (not through the Force, but through just a feeling) that the Captain was envisioning memories of the bridge at different times.

"When I purchased her, Hallomar asked me one favor: to use her in the way that he felt the Johnny Boy's spirit. So I said I would, because I felt that same spirit. The ship felt alive, like nothing I'd ever felt before. I could feel it's desire to do good to the galaxy. At the time, I had roughly a brigade of non-clone and clone troops with me that had disobeyed Order 66. So, we pooled together our resources, credits, favors to call in, and the local smuggler population, some of whom joined our first crew. In the following months, the Johnny Boy came alive on the beech. It was an amazing sight to see. By 19 BBY, she was ready to go.

"I had refused to have a new reactor installed and rather, have the existing one resupplied and updated. We had the ship in orbit above Port Haven and ready for our first crew. Like those women and children, the Johnny Boy protected us through mission after mission. We always came home...maybe sometimes a few less of us then who had gone out, but we always came home. The Johnny Boy never let us down, even through the darkest of times. It seemed that even when we seemed to loose our minds a decade ago and cold mercenary on the galaxy, the Johnny Boy...she seemed to never loose faith in the good in us. Somewhere, she knew that we would come about and fix ourselves. Late at night, if you walk the halls and just listen, you can her speaking to you. The ship. Through it's groans and flutters, computer clicking and engines, she'll tell you how she's doing, how her day went.

"You just need to listen. And, she'll bring you home. Always. She'll never let you down. I wish Lasso I could tell you all the stories and memories I have of her. All the times that I think we wouldn't make it and we did, or all the times we saved so many lives and she brought those with us out of harm's way. Or the times I laughed with her...and cried with her. The times that she was sick and I took care of her and the times that we were down on our luck, and she always brought us through to the next contract. She can be stubborn at times, that's for sure. But she'll be the one you can always rely upon, even in the darkest and coldest nights. I'm going to miss her, that's for sure."

"Miss her?" Lasso asked, looking at the Captain who had tears in his eyes.

"It's been said that, when a person devotes their life to something and they see the end coming..." Taller looked at Lasso with tears in his eyes, "...that they'll know. And there will be peace about it. I meet a man named Time who told me that I had three years left to survive. If I chose to accept his gift of life for three more years to save my life, that my three years would be devoted to those I loved the most. While I don't know what Time meant by three years now, I do know this. My heart is with the Mercs and will always be. And for as long as the Johnny Boy flies, I will fly with her, even in death. Lasso, do you remember what I told you about your memories loss?"

"That I would find myself, Captain," Lasso said.

Taller nodded, "Yes. And I told you that you would have to face your past. But, that I had confidence in who you were and would support you. In life, there is no playbook, no right answer. All we have are our choices when life is all said and done. I regret many of my choices; the pain I put others through, the letters I had to write, and the mothers and fathers I had t deleiver those letters to, letting them know that their son or daughter died not as a soldier of a proud country, but as an outlaw, a rebel against society, against the galaxy. That they were scum, like me, worth nothing more then the paper our warrants for arrest are written on. However, that their lives were worth more then the galaxy could see now, but would see in the future. Not because we fought and won, because we might very well loose this Galactic Civil War. But because we fought for what we thought was right in our hearts, for our loved ones, for others we didn't know. It doesn't matter that your right, Jason. It never does and never will. What matters is that you stood by your convictions, when it seemed everyone else was telling you that you were wrong.

"I'm not a man who I would want people's children to know about in history books. No, I'm not that man. But what I do want people to remember about me, isn't me. My life is a mess, I have no heir to my family line. I'll be dead in three years. What I want people to remember of me is that I was a man of my convictions. Whether those convictions were right or wrong, I want people to know that I stood for something when a lot of people, when faced with oppression and fear, said nothing and stood for nothing. And I don't blame them and I never will."

Taller wiped tears from his eyes and grabbed Lasso by the shoulders, "What I want you to know Jason, is not that I want you to be the best mercenary, best starfighter pilot, best friend, best husband, or best father. None of us---you, me, or anyone else---can be the best at anything. But, what I do want from you Jason, is for you to be able to stand by your convictions, even when the whole galaxy tells you not too. Because, at the end of the day, its not about the rest of the galaxy. Its about what you did with your life. And through those convictions, you be the best mercenary, best starfighter pilot, best friend, best husband, and best father that you can be. Not what your father did or your grandfather. Not what your mom or best friend did. But the best you can be," Taller shoved something cold and metallic into Lasso's hands, clasping Lasso's hands tightly with his, "Promise me you'll do your best. Promise me."

Lasso nodded, shaking and tears starting to collect in his eyes, "Yes, Captain."

Taller nodded, "Good," he tightened the grip around their hands, "Good. The Johnny Boy needs a strong leader. And I have seen something in you Lasso, something deep down. Vacks and Streets, they'll good leaders. But they follow my orders, my tempo, my style," Taller shook his head, "No, they cannot lead. I need someone with vision, with passion, with conviction. That's what the Johnny Boy needs. That's what the Mercs needs. Vacks and Streets will always be by your side. Always. As will Dak. You need to rely on your courage, your conviction, to find your past and confront it. You need to be the stronger leader I know you can be. Havah will be there as your rock in the darkest of times and Winterkill as your light. Yav will watch your back, while Kasumi will tend to your wounds and be your patience. Fress will keep you honest, while Zieleb-Xan will be your guide. Others will come, they always do. And whether for a short time or a long time, they will provide the structure you need to lead the Mercs."

Taller unclasped his hands over Lasso's and Jason saw the master-key to the Johnny Boy. Jason looked up at Taller, "Why me?"

"Because you don't give up. If you did, you would have already after The Block. Treat the Johnny Boy well. Get the crew back safe from every mission. Mourn your dead, but get back up and serve your crew everyday. Don't ever stop. Put them first, put you last. Honor. Pride. Sacrifice."

Taller went to leave and Jason turned around, "Where are you going?"

Stopping his hover chair as the bridge blast doors opened, Taller turned around and said, "I have a promise to keep. I've been putting it off for too long. I'll see you and the Mercs again at Project Zero. Make me proud, Lasso. Captain Lasso."

Jason stood there for a long moment after the Captain left in silence.

The blast doors opened and Vacks walked in. He leaned up against the open bridge blast doors, "What's your orders, Captain?"

Lasso looked at Vacks in disbelief, "Your really going to follow my orders? He served with you in the Clone Wars! He's a warrior, not me!"

Vacks shook his head, taking his helmet off, "It doesn't work that way, Kid. Taller briefed Streets and I before he meet with you. We know his reasons and do what he says," Vacks looked around at the Johnny Boy's bridge, "She'll do you right. You won't have to worry about that."

"Where is he going?" Jason asked.

"Taller? He made a promise to a girl long time ago. He wants to keep that promise before Project Zero hits."

"He doesn't plan on coming out alive from it, does he?" Jason asked.

"Oh, no, no," Vacks shook his head with a small smirk, "He'll be coming back. The Johnny Boy is his everything. That's why he's so passionate about it. He's getting a big-wig promotion to this thing called The Council to oversee the war efforts against the Empire. He just knows that his body is breaking down. Without his legs and now with his heart issue, he knows he can't be as capable as he wants to for the Mercs. And it takes a man to step away from their love in life for the sake of others under their care. He's doing this because he can't give us a hundred percent anymore. But, he knows you can."

"Why me? Why not Havah? He's been here longer with the Mercs then me."

"Could you imagine Havah behind a desk? He'll turn the Captain's Ready Room into a gym within a day. Havah would go nuts behind a desk."

"Kasumi? She's smart."

"The Force is her air. I'd wager to bet that Endor is her home and that's probably where she'll return to when this is all said and done."

"Zieleb-Xan?"

"I get the feeling he's more teacher and mentor then mercenary leader. I may be wrong, but I would think he would rather study and educate the galaxy, rather then blow stuff up as a living."

"Yav?"

"He has the DD. Good one though."

"Fress?"

"She'd capture the Death Star single handily, force Vader to eat his underwear, and then blow up Palpatine's palace with the super laser. The Galactic Civil War would be over in less then a week. We want to get a piece of the action too."

"So I'm it?"

"Yep."

---

Actualize Station


The news hadn't hit anyone else yet. In fact, Lasso hadn't told anyone yet and wished to keep it that way for a little bit. Until there was an official need for anyone to know, Lasso figured he would keep it as quiet as possible. Not because he was afraid, but because he was flipping nervous. Jason thought that everyone could go with a little more R&R before the serious planning started.

For now, Lasso was in one of the station's clothing shops. Oddly enough, one of the shops was geared more towards a Outer Rim spacer look, probably for their deep insertion intelligence officers, and that's what Lasso was looking for.

He looked in the mirror.

Black pants (like these, not blue in color) tucked into black boots with two brown blaster thigh holsters around each thigh; a brown utility belt is around the waist (the pouches came with everything, including extra energy packs, rations, water, tools and equipment, and even a gold compass). The right holster carries a S-5 heavy blaster pistol for main use, while the left holster carries a WESTAR-34 blaster pistol for last defense close range use. A forest green short-sleeve shirt covers the chest, while a brown bandolier (single strap) goes across the chest from right shoulder to just above the left hip; a knife with brown scabbard is attached to the bandolier near the upper right chest. A small scabbard, intended for a lightsaber hilt, sits on the left hip for an easy draw, but is currently empty. A jacket like this (without the puffed up neck roll collar) covers the torso further (the "Merc Symbol" could be seen on the right shoulder arm, the Old Jedi Order symbol on the left arm, and the Novahawk---Rebel Privateers--- on the right front mid flap of the coat); blue sunglasses covers the eyes, but are currently put safely away on a added pouch on the utility belt. A brown leather covered PAC20 visual wrist comlink was on the left forearm, build into the black phrik-armored wristband gauntlet, which were on both forearms. A pair of brown tactical fingerless gloves were folded away on the right side of the belt in front, an additional brown C1 personal comlink being in a small pouch on the left side of the belt. For good measure, a A280 blaster rifle was scrapped across his back (under the jacket), the butt of the rifle a bit above the back of the right shoulder. While wearing the jacket, Lasso carried the blaster rifle across the middle of the weapon in his right hand.

Walking out of the shop, Lasso could justify the small fortune he just paid to the Kingdom of Jod out of the credits had saved from the contracts with the Mercs. He was well armed and looked more the role of a mercenary. While he would keep his armored suit from the Kingdom of Jod he got earlier, he fancied this set of clothing as more practical.

Walking down the corridors, Lasso had no idea where he was at. By all the people, shops, and restaurants, he figured he was somewhere in a central business hub for the station. He watched for the signs that pointed him to the hanger bay that the Johnny Boy was parked at. He needed to gather his thoughts, formulate some type of 'I'm in charge' speech, and gather the Mercs. While walking through the corridors, he dialed up Dak on his fancy new wrist comm, the droid's head coming into view.

"Yes Captain Lasso?"

"Hey Dak, can you patch me through to the Delicate Delinquent?"

"Your wrist com won't have the range, sir. I'll patch you through to the Johnny Boy's HoloNet Transceiver. You won't be able to see Yavscout because of the technology difference, but you'll be able to hear each other."

"Okay, do it."

"One moment, Captain..." Dak's imagine faded away and a "finding signal" icon appeared flashing for several moments, before a "connected" icon appeared; Lasso hesitated, then said, "Yavscout?"



TAG Coffee_Ninja, JediFalcon, Mitth_Fisto, Sith-I-5

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Tatooine's Pod racer, Malastare

Using his right hand, Taab first took the credit chip from the table and pocketed it. This would be an easy score. Taab then plucked the cigar from the man's fingers and slid it into one of his shirt pockets, briefly revealing the upper portion of his shoulder rig. He didn't smoke himself, but he rarely turned down anything that could be of use later on, even a minor trinket for bartering. But he didn't start answering any questions just yet.

"Your government?" The man hadn't answered his question, and Taab was hoping to take away some useful information himself from this meeting. "And just who is your government?" He leaned back in his chair, ensuring to always keep his left hand near the blaster strapped to his thigh there. "If you are so insistant on keeping everything so quiet, you will pay more." He glanced around the restaraunt, ensuring no one had taken any undue interest in them. "Or you can tell me who you are and who you represent and I will tell you everything you want to hear for the price you have already paid me." He looked back into the man's eyes now. This one was a professional, Taab could see no indication on how he would react just yet. "My last employer paid me well, but non-disclosure after the fact was never stipulated."

He leaned forward again suddenly, the legs of the chair banged against the floor. "So let's try again. Tell me who you are andwho you work for or pay a premium. Your choice."

TAG: Intervention.

 

IC: Dmitriy Bekhterev
Tatooine's Pod Racer, Malastare



"So let's try again. Tell me who you are andwho you work for or pay a premium. Your choice."


So Taab was going to drag this out. Fine. Most people didn't believe in fairy tales. Dmitriy smiled, "Fine, Mr. Taab. You seem to be a knowledgeable man. Let start with, do you believe in fair tales?" The agent took a drag from his cigar; a waitress came by and Dmitriy ordered a drink; when the waited was gone to get his drink made, "You can look into any history book and granted a may be a footnote in today's history lessons, but there once existed the Red Rock Kingdom in the Expansion Regions. We kept to ourselves, became a powerful people, hailing from fleeing pirates from the Rakata in 27,657 BBY. Long story short, we soon became protectors of the Expansion Region against slavers and pirates---even went on crusades to cleanse them out to protect the people---the same pirates we once were and still, at the deepest of our hearts, are. Long story short, our Kingdom became the stuff of ironic galactic back-stabbing after the Seventh Alsakan Conflict. After the Last Battle of the Red Rock Kingdom in 3,961 BBY, our remnants," Dmitriy waved his hand around and adopted a sarcastic dramatic tone, "Flew to the stars and that's," Dmitriy became serious again, the waitress dropping the drink off and leaving, and leaned in and looked hard across the table at Taab "Where our fairy tale begins. I'm sure a man like you have heard of the Kingdom of Jod? Legend? Myth? Just a fairy tale? Spacer's cantina stories, right? You may believe or not, most people don't, and that's alright. That's my government."

Dmitriy heard some rather loud-voices. Instead of looking back, he looked off the reflection of a silver napkin dispenser, "Expecting friends?" Dmitriy asked, indicting the squad of eight white-armored stormtroopers; they were packing heat: 3 of them carried standard-issued E-11 Blaster Rifles; most likely for the interior shoot-out card, 3 carried DLT-19 heavy blaster rifles, 1 carried a RT-97C heavy blaster rifle, and 1 carried a T-21 light repeating blaster for squad support, "Their not here to say hello and sit down for a drink..." Dmitriy heard some noise outside and saw the blur of two white armored stormtroopers running past the window, one carrying an E-11, the other a DLT-19. Dmitriy glanced again at the napkin dispenser: the squad had broken up: one with a E-11 stayed at the door, while the one with the RT-97C walked up the middle of the establishment; the other 6 split their numbers in half to either wall. All were looking around, checking tables, but they were all coming towards the rear.

Dmitriy could hear come noise at the back door a few tables to their left: it sounded like more then 2 stormtroopers. He fingered loose his holster with the DH-17 blaster pistol; it would be the faster draw, since his other two blasters were under his coat.

The Jod agent kept cool, taking a sip of his drink; he spoke softly, "We've been made," He slid a data-crystal across the table, "It has everything you need, including the destination to met up with my government, if you still want the job. If you don't, the crystal is designed to self-destruct in one hour. A Jod Light-class Destroyer will take you the rest of the way. Just present this to the Jod forces that intercept you there and you'll be clear," He took a quick glance around: that waiter at the bar, he didn't look from around here or like he belonged in a place like this. He looked new, too new. And too military, "There's a soft spot in the male refresher wall. One good shot and a kick and the soft spot should give way. Tell whoever your with, to be ready. The Imps came with Intel and ready. Meet at Docking Bay Two-dash-Three-dash-Five. It's my personal bay and, with the credits I paid to buy off the Space Port to keep it that way, I'm sure it'll be safe. I have two other bays I publicly rent, to throw off any would-be snoopers. Imps can't track under the table deals."

The stormtroopers were getting close; fingering his two rib holsters loose, Dmitriy kicked the chair back as he got up, yelling to Taab, "GO!"

He pumped the first detachment of stormtroopers to his left---closet to the refreshers---with a bolt to the lead trooper's face; it sent the trooper flying backwards into his squad-mates, giving Taab a clear shot to the refresher. He then delivered a bolt---mil-seconds afterward with the other blaster---to the trooper's chest to his front carrying the RT-97C. By this time, the troopers were starting to bring their blasters to bear and Dmitriy jumped in front and behind a solid chest-high wall behind a booth in the middle of the restaurant. Angry red blaster bolts lanced out from the stormtroopers, turning plants, plates, walls, and food alike into flying debris. The back-door was busted down with-in seconds and four stormtroopers entered, all carrying E-11 blasters, which meant those 2 other troops he saw---if not more---were holding down a perimeter defense some distance off. This was well planned and done quietly for the Imps.

If it was the Imperial Governor trying to get revenge for the last 2 years of Dmitriy paying off the local Imperial courts to stay clear of Imperial trouble, he picked a unusually good time. Too good of a time. Something else was amiss.

Aiming his blaster pistol, he shot out the near-by window and, when the return fire died down a bit, he checked the troopers at the back door with a shot that took one down at the chest---slowly the whole group down through the small doorway, then popped up and lashed out with a few wild shots before making a break for the window and a super man jump through. He was about to make it through the window too when a sharp sting caught him in the leg, slamming him up against the wall and just short of the window...


TAG Bardan_Jusik AND Sith-I-5

---

IC: Stormtroopers
Crusader Docking Bay

When word came over the helmet comm that the raid had started at the Tatooine's Pod Racer, the Stormtrooper Commander in charge of his 8 man squad said, "Arm your weapons, men!"

Using a by-pass Imperial override code, the 8 Imperial-man squad burst through the door, their eyes and weapons resting upon the Crusader, "STOP THAT SHIP!" Ordered the Stormtrooper leader. The 8 man squad, carrying 4 E-11's, 2 RT-97C, a DLT-19, and a T-21 Light Repeating Blaster started issuing blaster fire at the ship.


TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Queen Christina "The Great"
Actualize Station, beyond the Northern Stretch, location top secret


The observation dome had become a temporary headquarters for the Queen. While the station had a throne room---with an excellent view just like that of the observation dome---the Queen had decided that she could yet sit in such a room without her husband, the late King Alex "The Just". While she was customary to making decisions back home without him there, she had always felt his presence in the throne room. But, now he was gone. And his presence, she knew she would not feel in the throne room here. And that was something that she could note bare to handle and, if even for a little while, she wanted to put that looming event off as much as she could.

She had an ironic smile on her face as she looked out at the stars, the Northern Stretch in the distance. The last time they had spoken, they had argued. They had argued about everything and didn't concern themselves with them as a couple, blocking out the galaxy and it's troubles. Instead, they had argued about their daughter, about the house, about the Royal Court, about their jobs...never once did they talk about themselves.

He had said that he would return. That comment, during the last time they spoke, was several days ago, just before his death. He was planning on coming home, settling things in the Kingdom, and getting the Mercs positioned to handle the galaxy's dirty secrets. They would finally get time to talk about them, not politics, not everyone else. But them.

But he never came home. She had said that she hated him over the comlink for focusing so much on his work and not enough on his family. Every last word she had shared with him stung at her heart now. She wished she could take it all back and had finished their last conversation with some happier words between each other.

"My Queen..."

The statement jarred her out of her thoughts of her dead husband and she turned around, wiping a tear away from her eyes, "Yes?"

The Queen's Guardsmen raised his bowed head, "The Mercs have landed and the Sword of Justice has returned. It has been several hours now. What are we to tell them?"

"Have they relaxed? Gathered their step back?"

"I would assume so, my Queen. It has been several hours since my first report."

"Assuming Guardsmen and what really is, are two different things. Make sure that the station is prepared to cater to their every need. While the Mercs will have to stay on their Johnny Boy, since we are already over crowded, make sure that their stay is pleasant."

"Yes my Queen."

"And I hear that Captain Rick Taller has left. He has named his replacement, this Jason Lasso."

"Yes my Queen."

"Hmm. I wish to see this Lasso immediately. We have much discussion to do. You may go, now."

"Yes my Queen."

As the Guardsmen hurried away, he wondered what was up her tail pipe! Whether a Queen or not, she was being a----he better not think that. Royal Intelligence probably had some way to pick up on his thoughts. Heck, after Henry---Queen's Guardsmen 223---was caught saying a royal joke while off duty inside his own house with on one else there, he figured Royal Intelligence was everywhere. Probably could tell when he farted...yep, that one was going to leave his Queen' Guardsmen comrades guarding the Observation Dome hunting him down tomorrow. It must of been the beans he had for dinner.



No Tag
OOG: Giving a time frame of what will---or better---will not be happening just yet. Just relax, roam the station, etc. I'm finishing up a combined post with Mitth, waiting to hear back on a tag from Sith, and need to get Lasso in position to do his first speech as Captain of the Mercs. Then, after all that, I can get everyone in position for the next leg and close to final leg of the game. And then off to Intervention: Allegiance! Yay!

 

OOG:

Sith-I-5, take your time in responding. I know between dad and board shut-downs, its been hard to get online. I'm just moving along my character to a different location, so we can keep the story going. I'll still be waiting for that comm tag back.

Coffee_Ninja and JediFalcon, the below post should give you a better understanding of what is going on.

Super short post, so tags are up to get the story going. Next post will be longer.

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Captain's Room, Johnny Boy, Marauder-class corvette


The news from the Jod running this station about the Mercs getting some downtime was welcome news. Still unable to comfort the crew about the news on the change of leadership, that just happened less then 2 hours prior, Lasso had Terrel Vacks issues the Jod news about downtime over comlinks. Where the Mercs were, and what they were doing, Lasso let that up to Vacks, Streets, and Jod security to worry about at the moment. For the moment, all the Mercs had comlinks on them and if the Johnny Boy had to get moving quickly, then they would all be notified accordingly.

For now, Lasso was going through data-pads and sticky notes left by Taller on his desk for Lasso. It was clear that the old mercenary captain believed in Jason having the ability to "run the show" right off the bat. Lasso had access codes to everything, even the bank accounts. It was clear Taller was going to make Lasso the leader he thought he could be by forcing him to be a leader. Quite a teaching approach.

"Captain," Dak said, entering the room.

"Yes?" Jason asked, looking up from the desk of reports and notes; his coat was on the back of the chair, while his rifle was in the corner, leaning up against the wall.

"The Northern Stretch, sir. Its making communication quite difficult. Its the reason why the communication line with Yavscout was lost the first time. We've been trying to reestablish a signal."

"Good. How will I know?"

"When Yavscout's comm waiting message appears on your office desk here."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"No, sir. Just status reports. Jod and Merc repair crews are putting the Johnny Boy back together."

"When they're done, I want to see them. I have plans for a refit."

"Refit, sir?"

"Yes. If we're going into this Prophecy business, we need some upgrades. And soon."

"A course, sir."

After Dak left, Lasso went back to his business. First order: the roster. Taller had made some notes on a data-pad regarding the foreseen Guardians' Reliance Fleet. While such a fleet existed, it was scattered and save for the Johnny Boy, Delicate Delinquent, Vella Gulf and Sword of Justice, wasn't much of a fleet yet. And while Lasso appreciated Taller's efforts on the foreseen roster, he felt that the Mercs needed a face-lift and a new definition of what they did. They were smaller now, then back at Watava, and had to adept. With each "management decision" Lasso made, he felt those hiding leadership abilities start to creep to the surface. Maybe Taller was right...or maybe the old man was just a fool. Only time would tell.



TAG All on Actualize Station

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Captain's Room, Johnny Boy, Marauder-class corvette


"Excuse me!" Barked the Queen, clearly agitated for even having to come down here; the single Queen's Guardsmen that could fit in the small office, despite all his professionalism, winched at the anger in her voice as he stood in the corner of the room, behind her.

"Look," Lasso said, his legs up on the desk, and spreading out his arms, "That's my deal. We're mercenaries, lady, not some blind fools. Show me the money or take a hike."

"Why you no-good, rotten, small-minded, insufficuant little puke! How dare you demand things from a Queen! I am---"

"A paycheck to me and the Mercs," Lasso cut her off, "And at this stage in the game, nothing more. Per Taller's own notes, since Watava and this whole Red Rock business, we've lost twenty-one crew members dead, five missing in action, and almost thirty wounded in various degrees. Of those listed stats, we've had twenty crew members or starfighter pilots leave with final paychecks and not return yet. We've had many replacements come and go since then for the crew, but I am running on a skeleton crew of thirty-eight crew members right now: a standard Maruader-class Corvette takes fifty-two on a skeleton crew. The Mercs have always ran low numbers, around sixty, but that ends today. I want a full crew of one-hundred and twenty-nine crew and forty-eight gunners, not including pilots and security crew. And I don't want Jod personnel manning my vessel. I want Mercs: the scoundrels and the laser brains. That crew will take money. And money is one thing we don't have and you do."

"We're in a civil war! We can't---"

"Your civil war, not mine. You want the Mercs to be part of this prophecy business, then show the money. Or we walk."

"How dare you! You know what the prophecy says! Don't you have a bone in your body that screams for justice of the galaxy!"

"Don't you?" Lasso replied calmly, "I'm sure that royal dress of yours could fetch a new X-Wing alone."

"Don't you even think it! This dress was custom made---"

"Look Your Worshipfulness, I don't have time for this. Show us the credits or we are out. The galaxy could burn for all I care. I'm looking after my people first. And, oh, I want upgrades."

"Upgrades?"

"Did I stutter?" Lasso said, "Yes, upgrades! Weapons, sensors, communications, and a remodel."

"A remodel!" The Queen cried.

Lasso nodded, "If we're going to war, we're going in style. Remember, we're mercenaries, not fools. Now, I expect a non-binding contract on those requests of mine---for all previously unpaid services rendered with Jod forces---and any additional contract requests after today on my desk within the hour. Anything else?"

"Your a rotten man!" The Queen spat back.

"That's the least of my worries, right now."

As the Queen stormed out, the Queen's Guardsmen gave Lass a quick thumbs up before hurrying after her. Lasso chuckled as the door shut.

With the Queen gone, Jason turned his attention to more important matters. First, the roster. While Lasso was a pilot at heart, if the Mercs were going to survive in a ever-changing galaxy, they needed to become more adept to the current crisis. Included in that change, since Taller had acquired the Mother (and it's crew) to travel back to fulfill his promise and the Tak Attack was destroyed in battle against the ImpStar Imperial Justice, Lasso had to find replacement shuttles. He had his heart set on a Sentinel-class Landing Craft for the first replacement, now he had to just find one to buy...or steal from the Imperial Navy.

While Havah was good as a Squadron Leader---and not using any prejudgement from their earlier run-ins with each other, Lasso needed a strong-willed special ops soldier. Lasso envisioned the Mercs being more balanced out, utilizing their starfighters as they always did, but also having specialized team members. While Lasso appreciated Taller's confidence in Havah to be the new fleet's Wing Commander, Havah's skills were better used in the field, not behind a desk.

How the restructuring would look, Lasso didn't quite know yet. But it had to be done for a smaller crew.


TAG ANY

 

IC: Fress Colias
Northern Stretch Johnny Boy
One hour later

Fress took the disk from Saber’s out stretched claw. “Thanks for doing this for me, Saber. I appreciate it,” she had Saber compile all of the reports from her time during the clone wars including her briefings while being with CorSec. If they were serious about putting her in the squadron leader position, she wanted to make sure they had no doubts over her abilities. “Well, you get the feeling we’re back in lead again?”

Saber tilted his head and whistled in agreement as she looked down at the translator. //And this is surprising, how?//

”Thanks a lot,” Fress rolled her eyes as she walked out of her room as Saber followed her down the hall. A woman surrounded by guards brushed by her causing her to frown. Who was that? She thought with a frown. She shook her head

The woman felt angry through the Force, like a beacon. Odd, Fress wondered with a frown as she stopped in front of Taller’s office. She wondered who the woman was and why she was so hopping mad? She saw Jason sitting in Taller's place. She covered her surprise quickly. “Captain,” she carefully said sensing the change in the atmosphere. “I had Saber take the liberty of compiling all of my missions while on the front lines and when I was with CorSec onto this disk. Consider it a resume for the squadron leader position, if you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not sure if Streets mentioned to you what he told me before they sent Jeth off to a different mission. I’m next in line for the position and I thought I would do this correctly.”

Fress placed the disk down on Jason’s desk with a frown. “I’m trained in hand to hand combat, including ground missions, leading squadrons and field missions, Jedi training but never completed the path due to personal reasons. I even led the fleet a couple of times on the front lines of the clone wars. My records were stricken due to my age. They didn’t want anyone to know a fifteen year old was leading missions. My training extended out to include Intelligence for the last ten years working for CorSec. I last heard my partner has yet to find a replacement hoping I would come back. That could’ve changed by now. I promise not to say anything about your promotion until your ready. Congratulations Captain.”

Bravo

 

IC: Zieleb-Xan ‘Mac’ Macja
Hanger, Delicate Delinquent

“Question is, what does you, my little, brother, me and Ilum have in common? Any starters?”

Mac took his flask back, took a quick pull off of it, and placed it back in its appropriate pouch. He then took his short saber hilt off of his belt and started twirling it in his left hand. “Well, seeing as I can feel the Force, you can feel the Force, your brother can feel the Force, and Ilum is swimming in the Force, I am going to go with the Force.”

Mac wasn’t trying to be a pain about it, but he didn’t have the foggiest idea what the time-traveling pirates vision meant. Besides, he did not put too much stock in Palso’s claims about being from the future, so he decided to test him a little bit.

“Since you’re from the future why can’t you tell me what it means, or I’ll give you an easier one, what’s my real name?”

TAG: Bravo

 

IC: Petty Officer Way Yays, Technician Flavin, Wing Commander Rectory Grove, Captain Yavscout, Tim Williams, Delicate Delinquent
Location: Berroll's Donn


"Yavscout?"

"What the hell?" The Johnny Boy's bridge crewmember muttered, standing over her station as the whispered, distance-distorted word came over the three active bridge stations' speakers. "That's Lieutenant Lasso."

"Lasso?" Flavin echoed as he took a welcomne break from telepathically trying to tell C.T. to stop what he was doing, and go analyse those Johnny Boy energy readings, an eyebrow raised at the name. "Give an abo a rope, he thinks he's a cowboy?"

The blue reptile whirled indignantly on the Jod tech! "Lasso is a Merc officer, and, is supposed to be missing in action."

Flavin stared for a moment, then sprung into action, hitting keys. "Run a trap and trace. Just keep him on the line for four minutes."

"That's land lines, and that sith only works in C.S.I.." The Petty Officer pointed out.

"Just do it." He reached up and pulled the flexible silver neck of a voice pickup towards his face. "Flight Control, this is the Bridge; mobilise the alert fighters, and have them standing by to receive hyperspace coordinates."

* * * *
Ready Room

Both Williams and Yavscout were seated as the Kingdom of Jod Selkath commander held court, advising them how they could use the interdictor's gravity well projectors, tactically.

"-we can have potential ambushers drop out of lightspeed a given distance from the Delinquent, which means we really need to have the sort of engines that will get us out of the area fast."

Williams, forefinger folded under his chin in thought, glanced at Yavscout. "So not the LF9s that Victory-classes use."

The elf shook his head in concert with the engineer, and chuckled. Everybody knew how sith-poor slow those Alderaanian engines were.

Everyone looked round as the door slid aside and Flavin pushed his head in, while obviously leaning in on one foot. "Yav, we have a Lieutenant Lasso on the line asking for you. It's a holo-signal, audio only and pretty distorted, so we are talking some distance."

Yav's retort at the interruption died as he took in the details. "Track his signal."

"Already doing it."

"Alert the, well, alert fighters, to receive hyperspace coords-"

"Done"

"-as well as the rescue shuttle."

"Okay..."

"And let Captain Palso know that we have his brother on the comm."

"They're brothers?" Flavin echoed with disbelief, "Actually, you know what, never mind."

"and patch him through to me!" Yavscout called after the empty doorway, the tech's head having disappeared.

A mostly black holograph appeared above the light table, maybe a foot across, showing a portion of the galactic plane, with a white star of light appearing in the named Berroll's Donn star system that they occupied, but moving rapidly to the edge of the picture.

With a soft wooshing sound - a holoprojector with sound effects was a nice touch, Yav considered - the picture expanded to show a larger section of space.

"You're on." Flavin spoke over the desk speakers. "C.T., patch Captain Palso in on this, and relay any information that we get down to his freighter, the Pile of-."

"Hunk of Junk!" Yav called again through the doorway, then, keeping a close eye on the holograph, he took a nervous breath, "Lasso? Can you talk?"

Tim Williams was also watching the holograph image as it zoomed in reverse to keep hold of the holo-signal. "Well, he's not in Kriz Sector!"
He launched out of his chair, and leaned across the desk to grab a stylo and a sky-blue pad of flimsis, scribbling Ask him where he is. then shoving the message under the elf's nose.

Tag: Lasso, C.T.

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Captain's Room, Johnny Boy, Marauder-class corvette


Lasso was in a sea of flimsiplast, durasheet, and datapads; he even had the holoprojector (which was connected to a external storage unit hidden under the floor) running down files and information of the Mercs. Taller was a very detailed man, that much was clear. Lasso could go back into the records to see the last time the old mercenary captain had replaced a screw in his ship. Well now, Lasso's ship. The old war hawk had given Lasso the ship and even the rights to the Mercs as a company.

Lasso's first order of business were the people. He needed a crew, but also, he had to restructure his crew for the Johnny Boy. Yavscout had command of the Delicate Delinquent and had taken a good chunk of the JB's veteran crew...and the JB needed that crew back very badly. While Lasso could see the value in the Delicate Delinquent, he worried that the budget wouldn't hold the massive Imperial cruiser, unless they scored Kingdom of Jod size contracts every month. While the new Captain saw the clear benefit of the cruiser in this Operation Zero business that Taller's notes hinted at and other large scale operations, for a mercenary unit already struggling contract to contract, he didn't know if the Mercs could support the cruiser on every mission. However, if they could find an ally they could "lease" the cruiser out to, the Mercs could make money off of that contract hand over fist. The only question became...who?


TBC
OOG: Will continue this tomorrow. Ran into some major issues planning the Allegiance GRF into the storyline. The notes in my head on it looked great, but once I put it to paper (over 5 hours later), it didn't look so good. That alone took up my whole night since 7pm. Its 12:11am now.