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

IC: Fress Colias
Actualize Station Mess Hall

"Fress, I do not intend on letting you down, nor to I plan on sitting here, when I can do something to help atleast this part of my new family. Besides I have to keep you safe, we have a lot to do when we get done here. I have the strength needed to get this done."

Kasumi smiled again as she felt Aayla's hand on her shoulder. Kasumi squeezed her friends hand in return.

Fress smiled in turn knowing there was a lot of work a head of them. “I had to know,” she looked up as Cody sat down with a tray in each hand. A tea pot and three glasses on one tray, and food on the other tray.

“I hope this is okay,” Cody commented as he placed a glass down in front of each. “I know you’re more into fresh food, Kasumi. I did my best,” he placed a salad down in front of her as well as a sandwich. "I'm sorry to hear about Alderaan. I remember both of you are from that planet."

“Thanks Cody,” Fress said as he placed a plate down in front of her. “We have a long jump ahead of us, I already had the X-wings fitted with portions. Make sure you have a blaster and your lightsaber. Smugglers run can get rough especially with strangers around.”

"If you feel you can't do this mission, I can fly Fress's wing. I know her well enough to know nothing will keep her from going on that mission. She tends to find strength to push on regardless. Not sure how she does it though."

Coffee_Ninja

 

IC: Kasumi
Mess Hall

Kasumi smiled as Cody put the food down. "Thank you, and you didn't have to do that. I'm slowly getting used to the food here. It will be a while until I will be able to tolerate it completely, but I am getting better at it. And Cody, I am going to be fine in this mission. Asking me to fly right out of the gate, as planned before, would have meant a very rough time for me. The loss of Alderaan is not only significant to us, but to the rebels as well. Alderaan was a symbol of hope, and always had been, however, I don't believe the Emperor really realizes what this has started, nor do I think he will fully understand what the end result will be. I know that my brother and mom would slap me upside the head for letting this stop me from helping others. So, I will honor their memory by completing this mission."

Kasumi smiled again and watched as Aayla nodded and left them alone.

"Fress, I apologize for not asking, but how are you? I know you left the planet when you were younger...but I wasn't sure if you knew anyone who was still there or not."

Tag: Fress

 

IC: Fress Colias
Actualize Station Mess Hall

"Fress, I apologize for not asking, but how are you? I know you left the planet when you were younger...but I wasn't sure if you knew anyone who was still there or not."

Fress sighed as she stared down at her food. “I kept in contact with Leia and Bail,” she paused for a second and shook her head. “I don’t know what to think of it. Who would devise such a weapon of mass destruction is not right in the head. I keep getting this feeling that Leia is still alive but Bail isn’t. He helped keep the rebellion together and if Leia is anything like her mother. It will be up to her to keep the peace among the leaders. Leia is turning more into her mother by the day but tends to have the father’s temperament. Sarcasm and fiery if you get my drift. If you take away the path of the Jedi and made the father political like her mother. That’s Leia.”

“Wait a minute, that almost sounds like if you reversed the roles of…” Cody began to say as Fress raised a hand cutting him off.

“Best not to say who.”

“Right.”

Coffee_Ninja

 

IC: Zieleb-Xan ‘Mac’ Macja
Space outside of the Delicate Delinquent

Mac sat in his cockpit about to open a channel to the vessel that Navi had designated as “Unknown Bantha” on his tactical display when suddenly the lights went out.

“Xan, good ole buddy, this thing is playing games. What next?”

He was about to order the attack with weapons free when the lights came back on and then off and then on. “Jim did you see that? I think they are trying to signal us, but why aren’t they using their comms?”

He reached up to toggle his comms over to a channel that the Unknown Bantha would be able to pick up when his head suddenly was filled with a distant, primal scream. His hands instinctually shot up to his forehead when the scream was suddenly silenced. Something bad had just happened, not in their immediate vicinity, but somewhere. However as soon as his hands reached his head the screaming stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

After a few deep breaths to clear his head Mac opened up the channel, “Unknown vessel, this is the Arrow of Light of Delinquent Flight. Report your intentions or you will be fired upon.” He then switched the comms over to a shared frequency of the two ARC-170’s and the Hunk of Junk, “This is Mac. I don’t think these folks are hostile, they still have power, and no one in their right mind would attack a Interdictor by blinking at it. So does anyone know of an alternate form of communication that they might be attempting?

TAG: Bravo Sith-I-5

 

IC: Chief Engineer Tim Williams, Captain Yavscout, Petty Officer Yavscout


Tim had no idea why the elf had rushed out of his own ready room, and stayed perched on the light table, watching the holograph of the ships outside.

He frowned. That flashing of the cabin lights wasn't random, or the result of malfunction. He looked towards-

The comlink in the desk bleeped; the engineer turned and pressed the button.

"Ready Room. Williams' speaking."

"This is Wing Commander Grove down in the hangar. We have two Aka'jor shuttles, meaning we have two red rock drives. I still don't know how that is going to help us, though."

"Good work, Commander. See if you can find some Royal Engineers that we have not worked to the bone yet. If you cannot, give me a call back, and I will come down."

"Copy that, Sir. You know anything about red rock drives?"

Williams shrugged though he knew the other would not see it. "I'll have to wing it."

"I will find someone, Chief." Grove's voice assured. "Grove out."

Tim re-pressed the comlink panel, and moved himself to one of the guest chairs, and put his boots up on the desk.

* * * *
Bridge

Yav stood next to Wa Yays' station, showing her what he had written down on his flimsi sheet.
"Blink code, right?"

"Yeah." The blue-scaled reptilian female blinked slowly and nodded. She glanced again at what he had written, "B.C.I.?"

"Acronym has several meanings, including in blink code contexts, but the one we have here," He pointed out the bridge windows, "is to do with broken communications."

"Their comms are down?"

Yavscout nodded. "I think so, yeah. Is there any way we can flash lights back to them."

"I think the first thing to do is to tell our people not to open fire, Sir."

"Oh yeah," Yav' facepalmed. "Let's do that."

With the events at the Greater Javin, the Mercs and their allies could be forgiven for being a bit trigger happy, but so far it looked like Flight Officer Mac was keeping his impromptu flight under control.

"Merc Ten from Delinquent, we believe the mystery ship is transmitting in blink code-"

"Mon Calamari blink code."

"-Mon Calamari blink code. We are going to try to put a response together; so don't open fire unless you feel threatened. Do you read?"

Tag: Mac, Palso

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Spacer's Farewell, Port Town, Cloud City, Bespin

As they entered the bar Taab allowed the list provided to him by Lobot to scroll across his HUD. So far none of the names were standing out to him. Bunch of spacers and smugglers who were either too desperate or not qualified enough to take part on their little venture. Of course given the slim pickings they seemed to be finding in the bar they might have no choice. He hoped Vacks was having better luck.

The Merc pair took their table and sat down, Taab spun his chair around backwards so that its back would interfere with his jetpack or slung carbine. "Tihaar." he ordered to the Droid who brought them their drinks a few moments later. At least the place was civilized enough to stock proper Mandalorian booze. Once they had taken their place it didn't take long for them to be approached, but by candidates that Taab would have deemed unsuitable. He ignored their quips about his armor, they were beneath him and not worthy of his ire. He also had to admit that the captain handled them about as well as could be expected. What came next though was a surprise.

"Long live the Emperor!" Oh shab, that was one way to get attention, but Taab didn't think it was the right way. Almost immediately about a dozen blasters were pointing their way, the clicks emanating from them indicating safeties being flicked off. His armor would afford him some protection, but it wouldn't hold out forever. Taab raised his right arm at a cluster of rough looking spacers, ready to fry them with his flame projector. He fought the urge to shield the young Captain with his body. Taab had a feeling that Lasso knew what he was doing and any move Taab made to protect him would make the Captain seem weak. Not the image they needed to portray if they were to gather up a decent crew.

At least the tough crowd bought his explanation, though it seemed to be more a source of humor to them then anything else. Taab lowered his arm as the other put away their blasters. They would need to find a different way. Taab brought up the list again, they would need to find the pebble that would start the avalanche.

"It was an idea. We may need to be a bit more specific. Anyone from that list we got from the cyborg that we may be able to single out and recruit? Maybe get some of the more respected ones in and the rest will follow? Aside from that, any ideas will help."

"Already looking Skip," Taab replied and then paused. A name caught his attention and he scrolled back up, selecting it with an eye blink. A slightly more detailed file, with an image, appeared. Yes that would do nicely. He had the skills they would need, and judging from this he would be just desperate enough to join up. But not so desperate that his joining would be dismissed by others.

He lifted up his glass to his buy'ce and extended a drinking tube from it, drinking his tihaar through it. The information he had showed that the one they were looking for frequented this bar. Taab finished off his drink, slewing his HUD display around getting a 360 degree view of the pub around him. Setting the glass back on the table he retracted the drinking tube, "Found one Skip. The Sullestan at the back table, talking with the Devaronian." Taab started to get up, figuring the Captain would follow suit. "His name is Nub. Havoc Nub. A pilot, he will do nicely."

Taab started on his way to the back table where their prospective recruit was sitting but paused one last time. Under his breath he again addressed the Captain, "and Skipper, you ever pull a stunt like that again, give me some warning first. I may not live forever, but that doesn't mean I want to die today."

TAG: Bravo

---

IC: Atin Taab
Actualize Station, Northern Stretch, Kingdom of Jod

Atin had finished going over what he would need to know for the journey to Smuggler's Run. It would be a tough approach, but one that he was confident he could make. Plus it would give him a chance to show off his skills. He nodded to himself. He was ready, his ship was ready. But where was everyone else? He walked down the Crusader's boarding ramp, ensuring that his bucket was securely clipped to his belt and that his beret sat on his head at the proper angle. It was his first war trophy, and he was quite proud of it.

He saw no one else waiting to leave for the op so he caught a passing member of the deck crew. "Fress? Where is she?" He could see the grizzled old deckhand look him over a couple of time. Atin was only 16, and to most aruetii to whom the concept of reaching adulthood so soon was foreign, he would seem as a kid playing dress up. Another of the advantages of wearing the buy'ce taken away. "Mess hall," he finally said, apparently satisfied by what he saw in Atin who nodded to him by way of thanks. The Mess Hall, at least he knew where that was.

He exited the hanger bay and made his way back to the mess hall, wondering if he could grab another snack while there. Upon entering he glanced about, seeing the woman sitting with another female and an older man who somehow looked vaguely familiar though Atin couldn't place him. He approached them, but didn't sit down. "Ma'am, the ship is all set. Ready to go on your order."

TAG: JediFalcon, Coffee_Ninja

 

IC: Fress Colias
Actualize station hour and a half to go

"Ma'am, the ship is all set. Ready to go on your order."

Fress nodded with an appreciative smile as she gestured to the seat beside Cody who had a perplexed expression she recognized all too well. “Cody, Kasumi, this is Atin. He will be flying the Crusader to Smugglers run for us. Atin this is Kasumi, she will be flying my wing. If you want you can grab a snack, we still have….” She glanced at her chrono. “Just under an hour and a half before we lift off.”

“Hello Junior, you think you have what it takes?” Cody questioned as Fress gave a swift kick under the table causing Cody to yelp. “What was that for?”

Fress smiled sweetly causing her friend to glare. “You said the samething to me when I first took over Blue Squadron at age fourteen remember? You used the word youngling instead.”

“I haven’t forgotten about that, Commander. And old habits die hard,” Cody defended himself with a half grin.

Fress leaned back in her chair and rolled her eyes. “I remember being in his position at that age and I remember all eyes are on you waiting to see what you will do and how you will prove yourself. It’s not a good feeling. I don’t want him to feel a lot of pressure. I just want it done right,” she turned her attention to Atin. “Atin, tell me about yourself and your skills that you have learned so far. And don’t worry, I don’t want you to impress me. That usually leads into trouble.”

Coffee_Ninja, Bardan_Jusik

 

Untested, but Bravo approved!​

Name: Adán Kinge
Rank: Not Applicable
Gender: Male
Age: 41
Species: Skadi (near-human)
Homeworld: Helgo Ice City, Sigma-13 Nebula, A’care Cluster
Affiliation: Freelancer (Mercs)

Personality
---Traits: Arrogant, Sharp, aggressive yet sophisticated. One mechanical leg that doesn’t always sync perfectly with the other, so he carries a cane for support if needed.
---Likes: Caf, problem solving, the colors of a hypermatter reactor going critical in his HUD
---Dislikes: Beings in his way, either literally or figuratively; talkative beings; criminals; large caterpillars.
---Habits: Raps his fingers along bulkheads as he walks, twirls his cane randomly and as he departs a room, occasionally stumbles as he walks, which is caused by a nervous twitch that sends a false signal to his artificial leg. This has been attributed to brain trauma during injuries he sustained during the Twin World Conflict.

Appearance
---Skin Color: Pale with a blue tint, faded scar from his left cheek, across his face, between the eyes to the right ear.
---Hair Color: Stark white, cropped. No hair along the scar.
---Eye Color: Light grey
---Clothing: Simple, dark red tunic/tactical outfit and heavy brown nerf-leather coat.
---Other Attributes: Stands around 1.67m tall; bulky, though in shape; eyes typically narrowed.

Weapons: BlasTech Industries HSB-200 concealed in a small-of-the-back holster; decorative jewelled, ice-blue dagger, a traditional weapon of the Skadi Imperium presented to him at retirement.

Starship

---Name: The Three of Pentacles
---Class: Ice Sabre-class Series Z Heavy Assault Fighter
---Hyperdrive Class: 1.9
---Weapons: Six forward facing 42mW Sodium-Ion Hydronically-cooled blasters; a rear facing, twin Sodium-Ion auto-defence turret; two, X27 Moonstalker Missile Launchers with twenty-four missiles each; internal bomb bay, currently empty.
---Shields: All-aspect, tachyon-projected shielding (functions similar to a ray shield with kinetic energy displacement)
---Sublight Speed: 1.49kG acceleration
---Crew: One
---Max Cargo: 2.7m3
---Interior Description: All glass, interactive projected holographic HUD.
---Other Details: The Ice Sabre-class fighter was initially developed during the early days of Skadi expansion into the Sigma Nebulas. Designed for long range reconnaissance, patrols, as well as strikes on heavily defended planetary and space structures, the Ice Sabre is capable of surviving in extremely harsh conditions. The Series Z run of the fighter was exported without the military encryption gear to freelancers and private military contractors. Over the next decade more and more found their way into the hands of rogue elements of the Skadi society, presenting a significant threat to border world law enforcement.

Biography
---Personal History: Born in the asteroid-cum-city Heglo deep in the dark Sigma-13 nebula, Adán had a fairly normal upbringing. He joined the Skadi Imperium Navy at 19 as a Fire Control Technician. Severely injured during the Twin World Conflict. Was married at 27, ended in divorce five years later. One daughter, no custody.
---Military History: Shortly after arriving aboard his first ship, the Valhalla, Kinge was deployed in support of Operation Twin Gems, which opened the Twin World Conflict with the neighboring Wolatarian nations. During one of the first major battles, the Valhalla, was struck by a barrage of torpedoes and the compartment he was was partially decompressed. Crushed under a partially collapsed bulkhead, he suffered extreme head trauma, a mangled right leg as well as several broken ribs. With a loss of about 30% of the atmosphere, once rescue crews arrived, he was initially pronounced dead, but was reevaluated and assessed as in a critical state, suffering from cardiac arrest. He was placed on life support and transferred to the hospital ship, Exodus. He had extensive reconstructive surgery and the complete replacement of his right leg with a bionic prosthetic. It took two years of rehabilitation, before his was medically discharged from the Naval Force with full honors. He entered the Nebulan Guard Academy, the security and customs ministry for the Imperium and became a customs investigator. He worked extensively in the Arms Control Unit, preventing illicit weapon smuggling from the Wolatarian Free Worlds into Skadi space. His close partner was gunned down by a Wolatarian during a sting operation to catch a group of weapon and narcotics smuggler, which further led to his xenophobia of the Imperium’s neighboring race. Becoming more obsessive in his work following the shooting led to his separation and later divorce. He took an early retirement package at 40 and invested his savings into his own fighter and began freelancing. He has worked on and off with Trenton Redwing for the last several years.
---Traumatic Experiences: Dying/injury, divorce, shoot-out which killed his partner.

 

IC: Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook
Hanger Bay, Actualize Station, Northern Stretch (Kingdom of Jod)


"Doc you have two hours, first state the limits for when I can be fully cleared and Pic. . . see if you can get Mary to prepare a desert to go pack."

Russel was rather off-set by Havah's quick return, although he had also predicted it and was preparing for it as he finished laying out a set of fresh needles and two bottles with liquids in them on a near-by table. The doctor calmly turned to the mercenary squadron leader before his droid could answer, "Let me answer your questions in reverse," Russel said, as he went through the previous procedure of preparing a drip bag for the alien mercenary and prepping Havah's arm, "Mary Star is dead. Well, was found dead is more accurate. And a Human replica droid was found to be in her place. Chief Helmsmen Andrew Monk disposed of the droid during our return trip from the alien known as Time. As for how and when Mary was killed and replace, is unknown at the moment, but Taller felt that it was during our last return trip to Port Haven. Of interesting note, a Imperial human replica droid was discovered by the Rebels aboard the Rebel Cruiser Red Ocean---evidence, as with Mary's droid, points to the Red Ocean droid being put in place to complete a secret agenda by its masters. While Mary's droid's master has yet to be identified, there is strong evidence that our droid and the Red Ocean's droid shares Imperial ties."

Russel paused; Mary's death was a shock to all and, like everything else, Russel had yet to have time to let the information soak in. But, in time, it would. But not now. The doctor was finishing up his set of needles and bottles, preparing a mixture from both into the drip bag for administration into Havah's system, "As for your limits, your flight status is revoked---although you may be a passenger of any such flight---until your return and you, I, and Captain Lasso can sit down and discuss certain medical and ethical liabilities that the good young Captain chooses to ignore in regards to your case---but a avoidance he cannot avoid forever. You are also restricted from any form of intensive physical strain on your body, which can be assumed as any form of combat, heavy lifting, and or physical extension beyond that of which is considered normal everyday walking. You are further ordered to have a full meal before you leave, hydrate your body with water, and," Russel handed Havah several ration packs, "Medically designed ration packs for healthy food and body recovery. Everything that a organic body of your nature and alien make-up will need to recovery from any traumatic event. These meals are your sole source of food for your journey, enough food there for a week, three meals a day. Your rank is here-by active and you retain all your command and ethical responsibilities as before as a Squadron Leader, just no flying of starfighters, shuttles, star ships or driving of any ground or sea vehicles. Any questions, Mr. Jeth?"


TAG Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Jim Palso
Cockpit, Hunk of Junk, forward of the Delicate Delinquent's bow


“Jim did you see that? I think they are trying to signal us, but why aren’t they using their comms?”

"Yea buddy I did," Jim responded, then added, "Their comms may be out. But lets be safe about it."

Library's voice came over Palso's head-set, "Captain Palso, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication and the code they may be using is called Mon Calamari Blink Code."

"I was going to say that," Palso responded.

"Sure," Library responded back.

Jim suddenly shook his head, as of millions of voice suddenly cried out and then silenced [1]. He knew from his history books what that was, but kept it to himself. It was a ill-gotten feeling through the Force and one he was barely able to control. So much death...

“This is Mac. I don’t think these folks are hostile, they still have power, and no one in their right mind would attack a Interdictor by blinking at it. So does anyone know of an alternate form of communication that they might be attempting?

"I've seen something like it before," Palso responded, "Called Mon Calamari Blink Code, but not a lot of your newer spacers know about it. It's a old emergency comm code that only the old space hogs know about these days and is mentioned in new flight text books, but hardly ever understood. I had good spacers' teachers growing up, so I know about the code. But I'd rather play it safe then sorry. Keep a weathered eye, Xan."

"-Mon Calamari blink code. We are going to try to put a response together; so don't open fire unless you feel threatened. Do you read?"

Palso's comm system cut out and he only caught the last part of the DD's message.


TAG Sith-I-5 and CPL_Macja

---

IC: Jason Lasso
Port Town, Cloud City, Outer Rim



"and Skipper, you ever pull a stunt like that again, give me some warning first. I may not live forever, but that doesn't mean I want to die today."

Lasso smiled mischievous, "Oh come on, don't want to have a little adventure in your life?" Jason laughed, then added seriously as they walked towards the table, "I'll take your statement as noted."

As they got closer, Lasso readied himself; it was clear that the Sullustan and Devaronian had spotted them. If there was ever a unfair fight to be had, the two at the table had the element of surprise with their blasters mostly hidden by the table and the natural defense a tipped over table provided.

But, neither blasters or a tipped over table happened as Lasso came to a stop and opened up a conversation.

"Havoc Neb?" Jason asked.

"Who's asking?" The Sullustan asked.

"Jason Lasso of the Mercs."

"Ah," the Sullustan said, taking a sip of his drink, "The fool who stood up earlier. Well," The Sullustan said, putting his drink back on the table, "I'm no fan of the Empire. And while your speech of recruitment is rather non-spectacle considering your audience, I have a feeling you meant more then you led on. I knew of Captain Rick Taller," the Sullustan pointed to Lasso's Merc patch on his jacket, "Never met the man myself, just cantina stories of him. And the cantina is right, you don't have much to sell a crew on because of your age.

"But, three things I'll give you. First, your partner there," the alien nodded to Taab, "He looks real enough and I don't think---even with a sizable paycheck---he would be protecting you without good cause. Second, Taller's Mercs has a good enough name around here and the Devaronian here says your story checks out with some of his sources that barely escaped in time to see the Javin Bucket blown to bits by an Imperial ImpStar. And third, it takes a fool to change the galaxy and you were quite the fool earlier. Just fool enough to do some good. So what's your offer?"

"Take only that which you have won in battle. Take not from your allies. Take not from those who shield you. Respect your brother and sister pirates. Respect and honor their allegiances. Respect and honor those who fight against you. Relish in the taking of a prize."

The alien nodded, "The Phosphura Belt Pirates," the alien thought it over, "Not pirates? Mercenaries?"

"Mercenaries," Lasso responded.

"To what extent? What do you really want?"

"Justice," Jason replied simply.

"That's a very broad statement," The Sullustan replied, "What says you won't become pirates in your pursuit of justice? Treasures and freedom can be very tempting."

"My honor," Lasso replied, "And the honor of those that fought before me and with me now for the Mercs."

"Idealistic and foolish," The Sullustan replied, "Either your going to save the galaxy or be dead within a month. But it'll work for now. Havoc Neb, starfighter pilot and all around handy-man on just about anything that takes the academically gifted to figure out. Where do I sign?"

Lasso dug a data-pad out of his jacket's pocket and tossed it on the table, "Its all there in fine print. Standard contract rules apply: you get paid when we get a mission and after the expenses and repairs are paid for from that mission. No mutiny and if so, punishable by death. You want out, we drop you off at the first civilized star port."

"Fair enough," Havoc Neb replied.

"Who's your friend?" Lasso asked, turning to the Devaronian...


TAG Bardan_Jusik



References:

[1] Star Wars: A New Hope (Movie)
Phosphura Belt Pirates

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Actualize Station

Looking at the good doctor as he answered him Havah sunk back onto the bed. Mary murdered and replaced with a replica droid? Weren't those still in the developmental stages? Or was that merely for those that could fool military grade or lab sensors and Mary had been a lower grade model? Either way the ties to an Imperial possibility were strongly suggested, and so in a manner despite recent events he pushed the idea to the side. A certain Jod sprang more clearly to mind who protected an intellegence officer.

The doctor then pushed on with the details of his prognosis. Mainly what Havah got was that he was stuck with a quack and hoaky medicinal knock-offs until he could return to a proper Arkaniaan hospital, maybe get a new liver, artificial regulators, and a tech overhaul. Problem was he didn't have that option with this job, and he doubted he had been payed for the last one yet. Looking at the ration packs he sorted through them, they were largely acceptable besides their obvious lack of drink choices. It was the reduced activity that brought his first response to his lips, "Where's the suicide pill? I think you forgot the pill for three days into this activity, not to mention the fact that I am a combat personel listing. If I cannot fly, fine I can fight. You're saying I can not do that either. What exactly am I going as? A walking door jam or a weight to keep the bench from floating away?!?"

TAG: Bravo

 

IC: Zieleb-Xan ‘Mac’ Macja
Space outside of the Delicate Delinquent

Listened as both Palso and Yav identified what the Bantha was doing as Mon Cal Blink code. He switched his comms back over to the Delicate Deliquent to respond.

“DD, Merc Ten. Good copy. WILCO.”

He sat and thought about what would be their next move as Navi analyzed the code from the vessel in front of him, when a crazy idea struck him. He then switched the comms back over to a shared frequency of the two ARC-170’s and the Hunk of Junk, “ARC 1 and 2, on my mark I want you both to take up position on opposite flanks of this thing and keep a close eye on those quad turrets. If they so much as adjust to track us I want you to put a salvo into them is that clear? Jim I want you to circle around to the back of this thing and target what looks like the main command pod. If things start to go sideways I think you know what to do. But everyone hold your places until I give the order to move.” He switch off his comms as a message from Navi scrolled up on his tactical display.

{{Listen,my analysis of the flashing lights shows that their communications must be down.}}

“Ok, send them a message with our lights telling them to stand down their defenses, open their forward docking hatch, and clear a landing spot for me.” Mac switched back to a group wide channel that the Delinquent would be able to hear as well as all the lights on his Dunelizard fighter started flickering in unison. “Delinquent group this is Mac. I am attempting to communicate with the vessel via the same code. I intend to dock with them to further assess the situation. If they comply with standing down their defenses and open up their forward hatch consider that the signal to move into position. How copy?”

Mac waited for a response from both of the messages he had just sent out.

TAG: Bravo Sith-I-5

 

OOG: So I've been in the slow process of bringing back and completing story arches from our storied game's run...so he's one from December 2010. With that said (since it involves our Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook), I've found a error in my own age of Russel Cook. I put him too old with his back story. He's 60...which would put him a few years too old. So, I'm going to fix that age. If, at the start of Clone Wars (22 BBY), he was a young aspiring doctor---26 the average age---and 19 years have passed since the end of the Clone Wars (19 BBY) to ANH (0 BBY), then Cook would be 45 years. I'll be getting a NPC sheet up ASAP for the good doctor.


IC: Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook
Hanger Bay, Actualize Station, Northern Stretch (Kingdom of Jod)


Where's the suicide pill? I think you forgot the pill for three days into this activity, not to mention the fact that I am a combat personel listing. If I cannot fly, fine I can fight. You're saying I can not do that either. What exactly am I going as? A walking door jam or a weight to keep the bench from floating away?!?"

"No," Russel responded, taking a datacard from the near-by table and handing it to Havah, "Your orders. Classified. I take full responsibility of this mission and you may choose to accept it or not," Russel paused, waiting for Havah to tell him to Sith-off, but when the Arkanian didn't, the doctor continued, "Before joining the Mercs, I was recused by Jason Lasso and a fellow Merc named Toran (Katana_Master). I was part of the Victory-class Star Destroyer Red Death's medical staff and their Chief Medical Officer---not per my choosing, but of Imperial Military Stop Loss Order or IMSLO. We were part of the reinforcements sent to the aid of the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Terminator during the battle over Desert Planet 22-52A between the Johnny Boy, Mercs, and the Empire. Our fleet's orders were to secure the planet, capture any remaining Beasts, Mercs, or Rebels planet-side, and search the debris for Rebels, Mercs, and Imperials. We were to remain on station, awaiting orders from Darth Vader himself. Those orders never came or rather we never got a chance to receive them. From months of studying the Beasts and the Jod, I have concluded that a Kingdom of Jod super weapon, propelled by Red Rock power, wiped out our fleet in system.

"When then Lieutenant Lasso and Toran went back to the desert planet after the battle to rescue Winterkill who crash landed on the planet during the initial battle with the Terminator, they had to use the wreck of the Red Death---which was one of the few Imperial ships that still had crew left on board and life support and other systems running---as a temporary location to stabilize Winterkill's injuries. After the Red Death's damages became too much for the battered ship to bare, she started to break apart. After our escape, I told Lasso my story and he said he would approach Captain Taller about it. Taller came through with the promise that Lasso gave me: rescue my family.

"By Imperial records, I'm dead, killed in action over Desert Planet 22-52A. My family received my full killed in action benefit from the Imperial Military. Since then, Taller had some contacts move my family off of Kuat, change their identities, and now their headed to Smuggler's Run for pick-up. It was quite a shock to find out that Fress and Kasumi chose Smuggler's Run, completely accidental to my circumstances. But, I don't want to give you my life's story. Their names will be their new alias, Rebecca Saint-James, my wife, and my child, Peter Saint-James. Their real names are Pamela Elizabeth Cook and James Russel Cook; Pamela is 47 and my child is 9 years old. The datacard has all the details. Their on Skip 1. This has to be done in quiet and completely unknown to Fress and company at first. The datacard also contains a list of supplies and equipment I need from a local black market medical dealer I know has a shop there. Your shopping list for supplies is your cover story and, at that store, you'll find my wife and child. And don't forget the supplies as well, we need them. The store owner has all the details regarding my wife and child, Taller set it up with him. Just make sure you use the secret password: scruffy-looking nerf herder [1]. Any questions?"


TAG Mitth_Fisto


References

[1] Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (movie)

 

IC: Yavscout, Nurse Ulrika, Petty Officer Wa Yays, Mon Cal nrcs, Delicate Delinquent and Mako Bantha-class
Location: Berroll's Donn star system


Mac acknowledged fast. "DD, Merc Ten. Good copy. WILCO."

As the elf and Wa Yays discussed what message to send back, and how it would translate, he became aware of laboured breathing behind him, and turned to see their sole medical professional, apart from himself, and his licence was only good on Norrath, collapsed into the chair vacated by C.T., her throat bobbing as she lolled her head back, and caught her breath.
She had a white med-case of high-impact plastic sat on her lap.

"I'm here."

"I called you ages ago." Yav returned, "Captain Palso has recovered, and is now outside interdicting surprise visitors. Did you bring your spacesuit?"

"Funny. Siiirrrrr." She was now showing a steely resolve, and locking eyes with the Surefall Paramedic. "Show some respect; I was a Merc when you were just an inch in your Daddy's-"

Yavscout was saved from learning where the itch was, by Mac calling back.

"Delinquent group this is Mac. I am attempting to communicate with the vessel via the same code. I intend to dock with them to further assess the situation. If they comply with standing down their defenses and open up their forward hatch consider that the signal to move into position. How copy?"

Wa Yays glanced quickly at Yav to see his nod, then responded for the GRF base ship. "Merc Ten, clear to proceed."

Yavscout crossed his arms as he listened to the comm messages. He might only have one active Merc pilot on his roster, but this Mac was proving every bit as professional as Naboo's Alpha and Bravo Flights.
He smiled grimly, while behind him, Ulrika reported that she had to go, as someone had collapsed in the mess hall down on Deck Eight.

* * * *
Mako bridge

The Mon Calamari captain switched his gaze, quickly noticing the lights on the small ship type that he could not ID. "Hold on. I think I am getting something." He rocked back in his command chair in relief, and clapped his finned hands together once. "Yes! We are being signalled in blink code!"

One of the guys doing the repairs on the floor, looked back at the captain. "What do they say?"

"To shut down our defenses, open the bay, and allow one of them inside." As he spoke, the captain brushed his fin over the toggles that killed the shields. The quad turbolasers were not online in any case, due to this being a cargo mission, and the small crew being pretty niaive! "What about the package?" He continued, "We do not want it floating away when we open the bay to space."

The captain considered the layout of his ship. The command area was pretty open plan, with command and control stations in the middle of the floor before the polarised forward window ports, while against the walls on both sides, were twin stations for the quad lasers, and aft of the bridge were cabins, a kitchenette, and an entertainment room.

The cavernous cargo bay was directly beneath the command decks, down some curving stairs.

One of the juniors sat up on the floor. "You know, we have never really tested our internal seals...so when the bay doors open..." His voice tailed off.

The captain clapped his hands again, and slid forwards off his chair, "Vacsuits, everyone!"

He paused. He had no clue how to blink code Be with you in a few moments; just putting my spacesuit on, so flashed the cabin lights three times for a second each, once for three seconds, and again for a second, to signal Shen Nern, "Understood".

Then he ran for his suit.

Tag: Mac, Palso

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Actualize Station, Hanger, Med-Triage Center

Closing his eyes he waited to see what more the good doctor would spout now. Apparently it wasn't going to be it was a suicide pill in ration pack seven, instead it was 'You cannot do missions but here take my personal one. I assure you it is legit now that those that could confirm it cannot be contacted.' All very reasuring information. The data he let Pic take and pass along the salient points to him. The fact that the mission was optional was a given, but between the options of sitting around doing nothing or a personal favor for the doctor, well the choice wasn't that hard. Besides he might find a good Arkanian or Yaka doctor in the shady sectors to give him a once over. Second opinion couldn't hurt ontop of picking up strays and medical gear.

Slop work to be sure, but the good thing about the seedier sectors and one's that 'do not exist' according anyone not mixed up with Hutts or organized crime was that he could find almost anything so long as he had credits. Credits. Hmm. "I have three. Who thought up a password that in most such locals is only used either between friends or to start a death struggle? Where's the credits coming from? Where are my credits from the past several missions?" Opening his eyes to state the last question he stared the doctor.

TAG: Bravo

 

OOC/OOG
((Hey all,...I will get posts up as soon as I can. The next two days I will be in clinical, so it may not happen until Saturday evening. I apologize for the delay. Also, we have lost two people at my work, so we are all pulling extra weight. I may not be online much if at all next week. Please accept my apologies in advance. ))

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Spacer's Farewell, Port Town, Cloud City, Bespin


Taab stood silently by while Lasso made his sales pitch to the Sullestan. He was the boss and it would undermine his authority if a member of his crew stuck his bucket into the middle of negotiations. Still it seemed that Taab's presence at least helped to sell the Capatin's proposition. Taab did take note of Nub's claim that their story checked out according to his Devaronian companion. He went back to the database, filtering it by species. Only one being showed up that matched the description of big horns, red skin, creepy looking. Zhoul Al'kesh.

Taab delved deeper into his file, as Lasso presented his data-pad to Nub. Al'kesh could also be of use to the Mercs, for as long as he stuck around anyway. Still they needed warm bodies and he could fulfill a need. "Who's your friend?"

Taab spoke up before the Devaronian had a chance to. "Zhoul Al'kesh, adventurer, gambler, scoundrel. He'ed fit right in." Al'kesh tried to hide his look of surprise for a moment before owning the moment and speaking boisterously. "Ah, I see my reputation proceeds me!" Taab just looked on at him, no emotion at all showed through his buy'ce. "You're a cold one Mr..." But Taab still stayed silent.

"Humph." Al'kesh turned his attention back to Lasso. "What your metal covered friend says is true. I am always on the lookout for my next adventure, and your voyage sounds like it could be a grand one. Sign me up!" He followed this with a large toothy grin.

Taab gave an almost imperceptible nod to the Captain, indicating his acceptance of Al'kesh as a potential member of the Johnny Boy's security team. Despite a somewhat rocky start they had added two new crewmen in as many minutes. He hoped his son was doing as well out on Smuggler's Run.

TAG: Bravo.

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Port Town, Cloud City, Outer Rim


Beskaryc's display of knowledge of the Devaronian seemed to put the conversation in context very quickly; while the Devaronian seemed overly excited to join the Mercs cause, Lasso contributed some displays of such enthusiasm into three reasons: A) he wanted to get off Bespin because he was running from someone, B) he was drunk with the drink in his hand and didn't know what he was signing up for---but since Devaronians had legendary livers for such drinks, Lasso doubted it was B, or C) He was telling the truth and was, like them all, wandering across the open expanse of space that made up the galaxy. Either way, Taab said he was cleared by the nod, which was okay by Lasso.

Regardless of the reason (and Taab's approval), the enthusiastic recruitment display of the Devaronian was topped by the stumbling human that put a hand across Lasso's left shoulder (with his left hand holding his one too many half empty half glass of amber liquid), his alcohol soaked breathe bathing Jason in a shower of smell. "I hear your recruiting," the blond haired human said, "Well, I'm in. Major Benjamin Totter, former 832nd TIE Fighter Squadron Squadron Leader and---"

"Ace of the Ship Graveyard," Finished Havoc Neb, "Never thought I would see your face again."

"Well," the man known as Major Benjamin Totter replied, "A lot of people---including my superiors---didn't. Well, my squadron never made it out of the graveyard anyways!" The man flushed back a swallow of his drink from his glass and looked at the Mercs gathered, "Ain't it funny! I'm alive, their fearless leader! And they're dead! Life's a riot, isn't it?!" The man stumbled away to the bar for another drink.

The Sullustan looked at his new employers, "He's one of the best fighter pilots in the galaxy, when he's not in the bottle. Real shame, too. Story has it, his TIE Fighter squadron was dispatched from a Revenge-class Heavy Cruiser for a combined strike against Rebel, pirate, and scavenger forces in the area---a bold strike plan to take care of several problems at once for the Empire in the region. Imperial Security Bureau agents within one of the many smaller Rebellion fractions in the region set up one of the most desperate fractions on a meeting with pirates and scavengers for a possible alliance against Imperial control in the area. The Empire had all sides played perfectly. When the Alliance and their make-belief allies arrived over the planet, the Empire jumped in minutes later with a Revenge-class Heavy Cruiser, three Imperial I-class Star Destroyers, two Gladiator-class Star Destroyers, three EF76 Nebulon-B escort frigates, five Strike-class medium cruisers, and two Immobilizer 418 cruisers. It was a bloodbath as overwhelming Imperial forces slaughtered the scum of the universe, but not without a fight on their hands first. The fighting was most intense around the bulk of the Alliance fleet and Major Totter's squadron was caught up in the middle of it. While he easily became a ace that day, his squadron was torn to shreds as they were ordered to hold their position until other Imperial units got into position on the battlefield...other units that never came in for the support quick enough. Finally, they did, but by then 3 TIE Fighter squadrons and several gunships had paid the price for it; Totter was one of four TIE pilots of three TIE Fighter squadrons to make it out alive. He watched as his whole squadron was wasted in front of his very eyes. After a public display to show off his heroism per Imperial officials as he received medal after medal, as did the other three surviving TIE pilots, Totter was never the same man and climbed into the bottle to forget life. Another command later with a sketchy record compared to his next to spotless record before and he was booted out of the service all together after he disobeyed direct orders from a superior on a mission. In his prime, he was one of the best starfighter pilots in the galaxy. Survived more years as a TIE Pilot then the average and was rumored to be the next big wig TIE instructor on Coruscant. Now...all of that is but a shadow of what could of been."

The stumbling Totter had come back, a fresh drink in his hand and looking even worse, "Cheers!" he said as he took a sip of his drink.

"Will he remember much in the morning?" Lasso asked.

Havoc shook his head, "Probably not."

"Good," and Lasso decked Major Totter to the ground.


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


Cargo hold, Lucky's Gamble, Cloud City


Vacks was off doing research on more crew; Lasso privately wondered if he was enjoying the entertainment that Cloud City offered. Force knew that the old war dog had deserved as much by now. For Lasso's part, he, Taab, Havoc, and Zhoul were in the main cargo hold of the Sentinel-class Landing Craft of the Mercs. The latter three---Taab, Havoc, and Zhoul---were enjoying a game of Sabacc around a small crate and portable metal chairs. Lasso was enjoying watching the game from a bench seat with his feet up on another unused small crate, smoking a cigar, and watching and waiting for Major Totter to come to, as he was passed out on a sleeping bag on the cargo hold's floor near the group. The skiff was further back in the hold from everyone else, secured down.

Ler came up the open ramp slightly, peeking up, "Captain?"

Lasso looked the droid's way, "Yea, Ler?"

"There's a Mr. Biggs here for you?"

"Mr. who?" Lasso turned around to Taab, "Chief, you know anything about a Mr. Biggs?"



TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Jim Palso
Cockpit, Hunk of Junk, forward of the Delicate Delinquent's bow



"...Jim I want you to circle around to the back of this thing and target what looks like the main command pod. If things start to go sideways I think you know what to do. But everyone hold your places until I give the order to move.”

"You got it Boss," Palso replied.

“Delinquent group this is Mac. I am attempting to communicate with the vessel via the same code. I intend to dock with them to further assess the situation. If they comply with standing down their defenses and open up their forward hatch consider that the signal to move into position. How copy?”

"Merc Ten, clear to proceed."

Palso responded to Xan, "Okay buddy, we got the green. Ready when you are."


TAG CPL_Macja and Sith-I-5

---

IC: Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook
Hanger Bay, Actualize Station, Northern Stretch (Kingdom of Jod)


"I have three. Who thought up a password that in most such locals is only used either between friends or to start a death struggle? Where's the credits coming from? Where are my credits from the past several missions?"

"I did" Russel admitted to the password with a blush, adding, "There are no credits on this run, other then being a friend and picking up medical supplies. Call it a mercy mission, Havah Jeth. Ya know, helping your fellow being. As for your past missions," The doctor reached back to the table and handed Havah a data-chip, "Captain Taller entrusted me with the final payments, so Lasso would have some time to adjust to command. Everything is there, a full seven thousand credits for all past missions after the usual off the top for the Johnny Boy. Not much, but once again, a lot of our past missions have been either bailing out prisoners from The Block on our own accord or defending the Jod and their King during the Imperial trap...once again, during our own accord. Everything else is paid for though."


TAG Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Cargo Hold, Lucky's Gamble, Cloud City.
Taab was using their downtime to "check out" the new crewman. Well at least those that weren't passed out drunk. Taab had approved of the way in which Lasso had "appropriated" Totter. He had yet to find the problem that couldn't be solved with the proper application of violence, it seemed that Lasso may share some of that sentiment. Now Taab was learning about those they had recruited over a game of Sabacc. Taab himself was down in the game, but he paid little attention to that. Credits were credits, and though he always insisted on being well paid for a job, truth be told he didn't need the money anymore.

But Sabacc did provide a wonderful way to get inside of the head of someone you had just met and already Taab could see that these two lived up to the reports on them. Havoc was ahead, by a lot. He played a very reserved, logical game. Never raised too much or too little and all of his moves seemed well thought out. Still he had a flair about him and wasn't afraid of the big pot, winning more than his share of them. Al'kesh was the opposite, always talking, laughing, and playing it fast and loose with the deck. He had been well behind, behind even Taab up until a few moments ago where he won the biggest pot of the night, putting him above the break even point by a fair margin. He was a risk taker all right, and though it had cost him early it had allowed him to win big towards the end. Taab would have to keep that in mind if they ever ran into trouble.

"Chief, you know anything about a Mr. Biggs?"

Taab took his eyes off his cards and swung his head towards the Captain. "Name doesn't ring a bell. Lemm'me check." He excused himself from the game and slid his buy'ce over his head, calling up the names that the cyborg had given them. There was no Mr. Biggs listed. He switched search parameters and logged into Cloud City's central net, inputting the name there. He waited for a moment before a name popped up along with a copy of a work permit. Joshamee Biggs; Permit issued for: Spacer's Farewell. Profession: Cook.

Hmm Taab pondered, he must have overheard us at the bar last night. He slid his bucket off, "Says he is a cook at that dive we were recruiting at last night. So either sleeping beauty there didn't pay his bill, or we have found ourselves a new cook."

"Aye," came a new voice from outside the vessel. "I heard ye were looking for a new crew and thought I would use the chance to get off this gasball." Taab looked down the ramp to see the man now, the odor of his unwashed body mixed with that of booze rolled off of him. "I should have left the bucket on," Taab mumbled under his breath. But Biggs wasn't finished. "I've heard the stories of the Mercs, done my fair share of tellin' 'em too." He began to walk up the ramp now, a gleam in his eye. "Now it be time to make my own stories I reckon. Where do I sign?"


TAG: Bravo.

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Port Town, Cloud City, Outer Rim




Hmm Taab pondered, he must have overheard us at the bar last night. He slid his bucket off, "Says he is a cook at that dive we were recruiting at last night. So either sleeping beauty there didn't pay his bill, or we have found ourselves a new cook."

"Aye," came a new voice from outside the vessel. "I heard ye were looking for a new crew and thought I would use the chance to get off this gasball." Taab looked down the ramp to see the man now, the odor of his unwashed body mixed with that of booze rolled off of him. "I should have left the bucket on," Taab mumbled under his breath. But Biggs wasn't finished. "I've heard the stories of the Mercs, done my fair share of tellin' 'em too." He began to walk up the ramp now, a gleam in his eye. "Now it be time to make my own stories I reckon. Where do I sign?"

Lasso allowed himself a smile---despite the smell---as things seemed to be coming together. He gathered a data-pad from the bench he was on and tossed it to Mr. Biggs, "You may start your own story with us," Lasso smirked, "With a shower first."


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


Sunset


As the sun started to lower on Bespin, casting beautiful golden ways across the vast clouds and between the towering structures of Cloud City, the Mercs would be leaving with one less of their number: Terrel Vacks. While Taller had said Vacks and Streets would always be there, he hadn't lied, as Vacks would. Always watching the Mercs' six o'clock. The old war dog had found a lost love he had meet years just after the Clone Wars and as the journey and chapters of life continued, Vacks wanted to start a new one. To have a family of his own. And Lasso wouldn't stop him: he had served the Republic and Taller faithfully and now, as the journey of life continued, it was time for a new group of Mercs to continue the calling of the old.

Lasso was returning to the Sentinel after wishing Vacks a long journey and good health, the engines warming up with Ler in the cockpit and Taab---standing rather causal but observant at the same time---by the ramp. The rest of the new recruits were strapping up the cargo bay's bench seats.

"Well," Lasso said, squinting one eye from the rays of sun that glittered through the buildings in the background, as he reached the ramp and looked to Taab and shared a glance back the way he had come, Vacks' form disappearing within Cloud City, "We begin a new chapter."

There seemed to be a unspoken understand between the veteran mercenary and the young Captain, the rays of golden sun dancing off of Taab's armor. Lasso just nodded then, "Well, its time to go."

The two started up the ramp, the Sentinel beginning a slow lift off as the ramp was still open.

"HELP!!!"

Lasso turned around, racing back to the edge of the ramp; he looked down to see a man running for all he was worth, waving his arms. Behind him five variously armored forms were pursing him.

Mercenaries.

"LER!" Lasso yelled back, "Put her down!"

"Negative Captain!" Ler's voice came back over the ship-wide comm, "We have Y-TIEs coming in! One minute to intercept!"

"Hold as long as you can!" Lasso instructed.

"You better hurry, Captain!" Ler replied.

Lasso looked back to the side of the shuttle's interior, his A280 blaster rifle propped up against the wall where he had left it for any unpleasant surprises. Jason grabbed it as the wind brushed past his way, making his somewhat growing hair to fly in the wind as he looked at Taab---who Lasso knew had that rocket pack, "GO! I'll cover you!"

Lasso had no idea who the man was below, yelling for help, but to Lasso that didn't matter. He was in need of help and if they would uphold the Merc tradition, they wouldn't deny someone yelling for help. If that someone turned out to be less then honest for their plea of help, that would be a different story. But for now, it wasn't.

Kneeling, he put the sling across his chest, and armed the rifle, hearing a soft wine; he put the rifle to his shoulder and aimed; he sighted down the sights and fired; his first shot missed the lead merc, but caught their attention; he fired a second round, catching his first target in the chest and throwing him backwards. The others made note of Lasso's shot and several of them took aim, while the other two kept after the man yelling for help.

Blaster bolts fired back up into the ramp area, causing sparks and debris to fly upon impact with the interior of the ship, but Lasso kept calm, punching several other rounds down to the crowd of enemies below. While the first few quicker paced shots missed under the pressure of being fired at, Lasso scored a hit in one of the mercenaries' legs and caught the other one with two rounds diagonal across the chest.

Suddenly the Sentinel shook and Lasso went falling down the ramp, only stopping his fall out the ship by grabbing hold of an emergency scrap flailing in the wind. As his body hung out in open air, the Sentinel rotating in air, Lasso yelled back, "LER!!!!"

But Lasso's angry burst was answered as the familiar wine of TIE Fighter engines could be heard ahead and then 2 Y-TIEs passed by overhead Lasso's view. "That was quicker then a minute!" Lasso barked to himself.

The shudder of the Sentinel's weaponry flashed out to the Y-TIEs as the Sentinel started moving, but the shots missed. Lasso was hauled in by the new Merc recruits as the landing craft rotated back to where Taab and the yelling newcomer should be. In the distance, the two Y-TIEs surprisingly pulled up and away, evacuating the area as fast as they could for a place higher up beyond the clouds. Lasso doubted they were running, rather realizing they would out-matched by a fully armored military-grade landing craft, and went to regroup with whatever capital ship dropped them off here. In which mother ship, Lasso knew, they would most likely have to meet if they wanted to escape Bespin now. Their retreat showed a tactical mind behind their operations...which meant a skillful and resourceful enemy. But also a enemy that was playing it safe by not sending in extra reinforcements (and not yet knowing if this a Imperial craft or not yet), which either meant they were a small group and couldn't spare the fighters at the moment or they didn't want to waste their manpower. Either way, it gave Lasso a way to defeat them before they met and he already knew how he would do it. They were trying to capture this yelling man, not kill him. A weakness to be exploited.

Lasso turned his attention to Taab's situation below, the new security chief having to handle two mercenaries on his own to rescue the yelling man before the Sentinel could land again. The landing craft's weaponry was useless at such close range as it would endanger the yelling man and Taab...



TAG Bardan_Jusik
OOG: The "yelling man" is Rusty "Two Thumbs" McWilliams, found in the NPC list under "Bridge" for the Johnny Boy. This is just the start of a little misshapen adventure, Jusik...

 

OOG: See the Rocketjock; void last post by Bravo.


IC: Jason Lasso
Port Town, Cloud City, Outer Rim


Hmm Taab pondered, he must have overheard us at the bar last night. He slid his bucket off, "Says he is a cook at that dive we were recruiting at last night. So either sleeping beauty there didn't pay his bill, or we have found ourselves a new cook."

"Aye," came a new voice from outside the vessel. "I heard ye were looking for a new crew and thought I would use the chance to get off this gasball." Taab looked down the ramp to see the man now, the odor of his unwashed body mixed with that of booze rolled off of him. "I should have left the bucket on," Taab mumbled under his breath. But Biggs wasn't finished. "I've heard the stories of the Mercs, done my fair share of tellin' 'em too." He began to walk up the ramp now, a gleam in his eye. "Now it be time to make my own stories I reckon. Where do I sign?"

Lasso allowed himself a smile---despite the smell---as things seemed to be coming together. He gathered a data-pad from the bench he was on and tossed it to Mr. Biggs, "You may start your own story with us," Lasso smirked, "With a shower first."

The sun was starting to set, casting brilliant golden rays of sunlight through the clouds, in between the skyscrapers of Cloud City, and reflecting off of the floating city's structures as well. It was truly a beauitful sight and Lasso allowed himself to take it in as he stood by the edge of the landing platform, his left leg on a slightly raised edge of the platform's edge. The Sentinel was behind him, its engines closet to him with the cockpit facing Cloud City proper. Maybe not the best landing job for a quick escape, but it would do for now.

Lasso had given the new recruits and Taab permission to enjoy a night out on the town for say, telling them to keep it safe be back before 10pm Bespin time so they could lift off and start heading towards Port Haven. While the recruiting had gone well and "Major" Benjamin Totter was recovering from a massive hang-over and headache in the cargo bay of the Sentinel, Ler watching over the poor drunken soul.

While the Mercs had gained 4 new crew members this day, they would be loosing one:Terrel Vacks. Terrel Vacks recruiting of new recruits had gone as far as a local female on Cloud City and Lasso had accepted the reason why with no complaint. Taller had said Vacks and Streets would always be there, he hadn't lied, as Vacks would. Always watching the Mercs' six o'clock. The old war dog had found a lost love he had meet years just after the Clone Wars and as the journey and chapters of life continued, Vacks wanted to start a new one. To have a family of his own. And Lasso wouldn't stop him: he had served the Republic and Taller faithfully and now, as the journey of life continued, it was time for a new group of Mercs to continue the calling of the old.

And that new beginning was just that for Jason Lasso as he looked out at the golden rays of sunlight of a setting sun. He was a leader now and was expected to lead. He had left instructions for Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook to inform what left of the crew of the new command and have them have their decisions by the time Lasso got back. While it wasn't the "leader" thing to do, Lasso had little choice in the matter. A crew he needed first...dealing with hurt feelings would come later.

Turning away from his view, Lasso walked to the ramp of the shuttle and up half way, seeing Ler standing near-by a water drinking Totter. The man looked no worse for wear, for his was use to such nights of adventure with a bottle it seemed, but hang-overs had no allies after such a night either.

"Ler, I'll be back," Lasso said, "Lock her up and stay here. I'm going to go see what I can find in the local casinos."'

"What?" Totter said, "Your not going to give me a chance to accept your recruitment offer not drunk?"

"I doubt your ability to make logical decisions would have changed any," Jason replied.

Totter laughed, "Ya know, I may like you yet!"

Jason smirked, "Sober up and we'll talk about contract details later."

"Do I get to kill Imps?" Totter asked.

"As many as you want," Lasso said.

"Then I'm in. Maybe I can make something with my life yet."

Lasso shrugged, "Maybe. Ler," Lasso gave a small two finger salute to the droid who nodded back and Lasso was down the ramp----as it closed up behind him, Lasso A280 blaster rifle up against the wall inside the shuttle's entrance---and walking towards the entrance of Cloud City...


TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Atin Taab
Mess Hall, Actualize Station, Northern Stretch, Kingdom of Jod

“Hello Junior, you think you have what it takes?” Atin flushed slightly at the old man's question. He knew his father would have ignored it, bluster was the sign of the weak he would say. But Atin still had a hard time ignoring such quips. He knew his father had "been there" and "done that", but Atin still felt he had so much more to prove to the galaxy, and to himself.

Luckily Fress stepped in. “You said the same thing to me when I first took over Blue Squadron at age fourteen remember? You used the word youngling instead.”

14? That was awful young for an aruetii to be given a squadron command, and from the looks of her that would have been around the time of the Clone Wars. Atin didn't know what to make of it, but filed it away for further discussion with his buir.

“Atin, tell me about yourself and your skills that you have learned so far. And don’t worry, I don’t want you to impress me. That usually leads into trouble.” Normally he would give a list of jobs they had been a part of, but Atin didn't think that's what Fress was looking for. He shifted on his feet slightly, looking from Fress to Kasumi, who had thus far stayed silent. Was she there just to scrutinize his answer while Fress questioned him? Or was she just shy?

Atin didn't know. This was a very different experience for him. Usually he and his father went into a job with a simple axiom in mind. "Be polite, be courteous, show professionalism and have a plan to kill everyone in the room." But this was different. He was supposed to truly be a crew with these people, and buir had made clear that they were fellow professionals as well. So, looking back to Fress he tried his best to answer the question the way his father would. He kept it simple and to the point. "I am Mandalorian. I can fly, I can fight and I can shoot. What more could you need?"

TAG: JediFalcon, Coffee_Ninja

 

IC: Fress Colias
Actualize Station Mess Hall

"I am Mandalorian. I can fly, I can fight and I can shoot. What more could you need?"

Fress noticed Kasumi was being extra quiet, not that she blamed her. The loss of Alderaan would be considered a costly blow. ”Mandalorian? I was to Mandalore a couple of times during the Clone Wars.”

“Assassin droid,” Cody gave a grin causing Fress to frown.

“You can’t tell me you enjoyed that part of the mission? How many little assassin droids were there again? A couple hundred per droid?” Fress questioned with a raised browed.

“I didn’t say I enjoyed it,” Cody defended himself with a playful grin. “I was hoping it would make you jump and pull your blaster.”

Fress rolled her eyes. “Next time, you need to make it more believable. There’s a commando droid behind you.”

“Funny, I forgot to laugh. It will be too soon before I see another clanker again,” Cody said as he leaned back in his chair a bit.

“Taller has a bunch of clankers onboard the Johnny Boy. So don’t freak when you see them,” Cody shook his head as she turned her attention back to Atin. “Your skills are more then enough for this mission, we are looking to fill the spots in the squadron again. How do you feel about learning to use an X-wing?” Fress questioned with a smile. “How well can you fly through an asteroid field?”

Bardan_Jusik, Coffee_Ninja

 

IC: Mon Calamari npcs , Mako Bantha-class assault shuttle
Location: Berroll's Donn star system


Tha Mon Cal captain checked the seals on the suits of his crew, had one of them check his and ran back to the command deck as quickly as his own silver suit would let him, the breath from his wide jaws steaming up the visor, and jumped into his seat.

His glove swept over a row of the light controls, switching on lumis inside and outside the ship, magnetised the deck for the main bay, so that the tarpaulin-draped spare heavy quad turbolaser, fresh off the hull of the SGIS base ship, that dominated the centre the bay, would not simply float off into space when the hatch opened.

Then, with a brief moment of hesitancy, stabbed the circular green button to open the forward hatch, the rectangular curved sheet of black durasteel moving down and spilling bright white light from the Mako's innards across the hulls and canopies of the Merc or Jod vessels that were in front of her.

One of his men was in there with a datapad to officially hand the part over to whoever was representing Agent Yavscout, if they wanted to take it now.

It would be up to whichever ship boarded to find a way to land in there, though if he had been flying on the smaller craft, he'd magnetically attach his craft's landing gear to one of the cargo bay walls, and rather gingerly exit the craft.

Tag: Mac, Palso