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

IC: Cain Varss
The Hutt's Scuttle, Skip One, Smuggler's Run

Cain still didn't want to leave. Something with Book didn't sit well with him, but he did have supplies to gather, a list he hadn't yet made for himself, and with only a few hours before departure he needed to go. Sithspit. Cain got up awkwardly in the booth without a word and slid over Book.

On his way out of the booth, his ingrained tendency to recognize superior officers kicked in, a trait battered into him by the Empire and a trait he resented. "Yes ma'am, my apologies. I have some supplies to gather before I leave, I'll meet you later," said Cain, not wanting to give too much away to Book as to how he would meet her and the others later. He was about to walk off but something compelled him to stop. "Book, just so you know, I have been surviving out here on the Outer Rim just fine. Survival is not why I am here. I want to see Imperial blood flow, and this outfit is the first mercenary outfit, in my estimation, that has a solid shot at giving the Empire a black eye." With that Cain strode past the other Mercs that had walked in with Sherland and out of the bar.

Tag: Bravo, JediFalcon, people in The Hutt's Scuttle

 

IC: Charlie Watertin (NPC)
Logistics (Starboard, second level), Johnny Boy, Actualize Station


Charles, as he preferred to be called, was nursing a nasty headache of hang over with his usual home made choice of straight black coffee and a shot. As Charles winced at the headache that threatened to overtake him as he took a sip of coffee and shot, he looked over the scattering of flimsiplast and data-pads across his desk. He had to admit that the Jod had done a good job. Most of the exterior was done, with the bridge and second levels completely done. Levels One and Three were being finished up. While Level Two was far from looking not like a construction zone---a handful of Jod techs wondering around still doing minor follow-up work with work lights and dust still scattered around the level----it was beginning to feel like a starship again.

Logistics, as it was called, was in fact a series of miniature offices and associated equipment and supplies for all of the senior department heads in one large office space, primarily one office for General Crew, one office for Gunnery, one office for Mess Hall, one office for Maintenance and Repair, and one office for the Quartermaster...which was vacant, like everything else at the moment, except for the General Crew office, where Charles found himself laboring away at a whole crew of 19 personnel. 3 gunners, 3 maintenance techs, 3 security personnel, 1 engineering tech (Zapped, the Givin male hyperdrive tech), 8 crewers, and Nick Skyland, the Mercs Historical Officer. Not including, a course, the crew over at the DD, which included most of the senior engineering staff. And the Mercs all off on recruiting fancies. Right now, technically speaking, Dak was in charge, the Captain's Assistant (a droid), but Chief Medical Officer Russel Cook was the ranking organic at the moment. Even if Charles included himself, Russel Cook, and the crew he had between the recruiting and the DD, Charles averaged the Johnny Boy crew at around 30. If you included guests, well you had the Jedi Retirees Club of 3 and "He". 34 wasn't looking much better then 30.

Charles was going over the latest work reports that the Jod had given him when he heard the blast doors at the far end of the mostly empty logistics open up. Seeing the colorful clothes of two King's Army Soldiers as the blast doors opened to show their sentry positions, Nick Skyland burst through the doors, the blast doors closing behind. Charles smirked. The kid was growing up, for sure. A year ago, Nick Skyland was a 14 year-old star struck youth aboard a mercenary warship. Now, the 15 year-old was growing up. He had filled out a bit more, adding some much needed bulk to his wiry frame, and his brown hair had brown out to a more shaggy carpet on his head, making the green eyed, chin stubble growing youth look a bit older then he actually was. Still, some habits died hard and Charles felt that this habit was more passion then a growing stage. Nick always had that holo recorder with him and had been making a miniature documentary of the Mercs. Charles swore, of the kid kept with it both his filming here and his passion, he could turn his life here into a holo documentary and make billions off of it.

Still characteristic of his youth, Nick burst through Charles office door without knocking. "Hey Charles!" Nick said with enough excitement to power a Star Destroyer for a year, "I got that message sent down for you!"

"And?" Charles asked.

"She said yes!" Nick responded.

"Good, good," Charles said, adding, "You did tell her that you were my brother's son and my brother was lost in the war and I was taking care of you, right?"

"Yes," Nick responded with a bit of strained annoyance. Why wouldn't of he said that?

"And you gave her my comm number?" Charles asked.

"Well, duh," Nick said, "I even showed her your chicken dance."

"You did what!? That was supposed to be betwe---"

"Got you!" Nick said with that teenager enthusiasm and annoying laugh.

"Funny," Charles said flatly, "Well, how did she say yes?"

"What do I look like, your dating advice? I'm fifteen years old! You have more dating experience then I do! She said yes, what else do you want? Her shoe size?"

"Her to call me, maybe," Charles said matter-of-factly.

"Uh...I gave her your number like ten minutes ago. Like chill or something."

"You haven't reached that stage in your life yet when women are a essential function to everyday survival. When you do, you'll understand. If I could call her, I would, but her being part of the Queen's personal escort, I highly doubt her number is listed."

"Oh no, I got you there!"

"Got me where?" Charles asked confused.

"So when I was giving your number out, I got a number of my own."

"What, hers! Why you no good---"

"Ah, like creepy Charles. She's like thirty. I'm fifteen. That's like...yea, not cool."

Charles calmed down, "Sorry. Haven't met a good woman in years. Space Port women are, well, what you get at Space Ports. Fake. But she, Royal Court handmaiden...now, we're talking my friend. Riches. She'll be nice, well educated, smell much nicer then the space port women, and a good woman to settle down with one day."

"Ah like kids?"

"Yea," Charles saw the look of disgust on Nick's face, "What?"

"Kids. Dude, I'm a teenager. I'm interested in just getting a kiss!"

"You have a lot to learn then my young friend."

"Yea, well you won't even be getting a kiss from her!" Nick replied, "She's Royal Court handmaiden. Ya know, she wants nice, educated, and smelling good men too. You, my friend, smell like a sewer."

"I can fix that! Plus, she may like a man who works hard for a living and has smells to match it. She's so use to the fake ones in the Royal Court, she may want a real man."

Nick chuckled, "Yea, well I scored her little sister's number. I got further then you did."

Charles' comm beeped with an unknown number and he smiled at Nick, "And you, my friend, are about to be shown how real men date. Stand aside, rookie, and let the veteran show you how its done."



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


Some time later...


"So veteran, right?" Nick asked.

"Stuff it," Charles replied, staring at his desk in frustration.

"I'm just saying," Nick replied, "You said to let the veteran show the rookie how its done. Well, is that how it's done? A two minute conversation ending with her not wanting to met you? Ever again? I thought it was the other way around, that she wanted to meet you."

"Don't you have a bulkhead to clean?" Charles asked, looking up.

"Yes I do," Nick said with a smirk, "And a comm number to call."

"I hope she hangs up too!" Charles replied to the retreating form of Nick.


TBC

 

IC: Mary Formal, Baille Hart, Flitter
Location: Tierfon system


The female alien pulled her skinned furs tighter around her blue shoulders as the frigid wind whistling through the thin white-barked trees buffeted her. She was floating off the ground, in her natural state, so she had to dig hard fingers into the bark of the nearest tree to anchor herself.

The small copse was close to the river where she collected the foul-tasting water for the rest of her community of survivors in the caves a couple of miles back in the hills.

The water tasted bad since the Empire had poisoned, or done something to the planet, and they had to boil it with some local moss to make it drinkable.

It had been a year since Alliance ships had stopped coming, and she and the other colonists assumed something must be stopping them, even after the Imperial bombardment that had affected the water, and flora and fauna.

There had been sightings of X-Wings and Z-95s flitting through the atmosphere, but none had landed, or managed to make a legible communication, having been quickly destroyed by mysterious missiles before they could do anything remotely helpful.

Mary, who had been rescued from her previous situation by a Rebel commando team, had been allowed to settle here, where she had worked on electronic components for the few starfighters that the Alliance to Preserve the Republic had built themselves.

She was new to this area of space, new enough that she had missed the Clone Wars, and had not experienced this Galactic Republic that the Alliance wanted to resurrect, but, they had been kind to her, had helped her, and she had thrown her lot in with them.

Alliance colony worlds had little in the way of defences, some blasters, and an armoury in town that had several shoulder-held anti-aircraft portable ion cannon.

She had one with her, and had wasted a bolt, trying to hit the missile following that sleek black thing that had blown along the river bed just now, and which had been finished off by the larger burgundy-coloured capital ship that was now making a run to the horizon with four missiles on its tail.

“Good luck.” She wished the pilot of the red craft, having long recognised the missiles as belonging to the unseen enemy.

Blue-black head tendrils floating behind her, Mary cocked her head, listening.

There was something coming. And it sounded like that black starfighter that she had tried to help just now.

Interesting.

Mary knew this place well, and if the pilot was actually intending to land, the best place was a flat grey boulder, worn almost level with the hill that it was embedded in, less than a hundred metres from the tree-line.

She tore her fingers from the tree in a spray of dark brown wood shards, and changed shape, within seconds, looking like a pretty, human woman with pale white skin, blonde hair cut into a boyish bob, wearing a maroon sleeveless top, a black synthleather miniskirt, laddered and torn opaque black tights, and muddy black ankle boots. She still had the furs around her shoulders, and the launcher.

The sound of the engines were much louder now, and when she looked up, there was what looked like a huge black arrowhead silhouetted against the clouded grey skies.

She started walking in the same direction, sure that her guess was correct – it was coming in to land!

The others in the cave would never believe her; she would have to take the pilot back to meet them.

Once the trees started to clear, and she had line of sight on the landing area, Mary decided to stay hidden until she saw what the pilot looked like – no sense greeting the Trandoshan slave trader until you have had time to weigh up your options.

It was a few minutes, and then the small craft coasted in low over the grass, and descended smoothly on her repulsors, throwing up a widening cushion of grey dust to all sides.

The observer held her breath till all that settled.

The craft was almost like a ground-effect sportscar, apart from the landing struts. Low and flat, there was an oval-shaped bubble canopy with room for one person, and vertical squarish fins facing up and down from the craft’s rear.

There was movement inside, then a low hum as the canopy lifted, and then the pilot – a Normal Human female with short dark hair - rose into view, the heavy wind that was the bane of Mary’s day catching her red-silken outfit that the pilot was wearing and flapping it like a flag in the direction of the starfighter’s nose.

Bloody hell, she saw the woman mouth, the wind whipping away any actual sound.

Still, she knew how the newcomer felt, watching has she fought to retain her dignity, while at the same time negotiating her way to the ground.

Mary boldly stepped from the treeline. "Not really dressed for Flitter are you?" She managed to greet with more decorum than she had planned a second ago, since she had been ready to gush gratitude all over the pilot.

The pilot stopped, sitting heavily onto the V-Wing's hull after her white footwear to skidded on the moisture-slicked surface, and staring wild-eyed at her, mouth open with shock.

"Uh. Um. Was it you that shot that missile"

"Yep!" Mary grinned, patting the launcher with her left hand. "Hit it with my fire-y...thing." She changed to an embarrassed expression. "Sorry, I don't know what it is actually called."

"Well, thank you. You saved my life."

"No problem."

The two women stared silently at each other. Seconds ticked slowly by, until the pilot pushed down on the wet metal, to slide herself off the ship, and onto the grey rock. "I better get off this wet metal before I get piles."

"Are you with the Alliance?" Mary blurted.

"Of course not, I'm with the Emp-, I mean, sort of. Uh, it's complicated."

"Un-complicate it."

Baille put up a finger, in a universal time-out gesture. "Hold on, I've got an SGIS Operation Feedback flimsi in the ship. It should explain everything."

Mary nodded and watched warily as the woman turned her back and leaned across half her ship to reach into the open cockpit. "You know you have a wet patch on your bum?"

"Thanks for highlighting that it shows."

The Alliance colonist blushed. "Sorry. I don't get out much."

To be continued...

 

IC: Rav Cater
The Hutt’s Scuttle, Skip One, Smuggler's Run


“There is a no fight policy aboard the ship. All weapons are surrendered into security from the time you land to the time you leave for missions. Do I make myself clear?”

"Book, just so you know, I have been surviving out here on the Outer Rim just fine. Survival is not why I am here. I want to see Imperial blood flow, and this outfit is the first mercenary outfit, in my estimation, that has a solid shot at giving the Empire a black eye."

Watching Cain go, Rav at a moment of respect for the man. He was an idealist, that was for sure, but an idealist with more then fancy words. He was an idealist with the skills, knowledge, and will to pull it off. Or die trying. While Rav found such idealist types to be stars that suddenly appear and then suddenly vanish, he thought that Cain actually had his priorities in the somewhat right order. First, if your going to be an idealist, come well armed and well equipped. Cain had done that much. The second rule, if you wanted to live for more then a month, don't be an idealist. Cain had beaten the odds.

So far.

The question would become, could he keep gambling life's good graces to forestall his own death as an idealist? Or would his luck run out?

But maybe, just maybe, Rav had finally met an idealist who wasn't a Rebel hiding behind others to battle the Empire and wasn't a pencil and paper idealist. Maybe, just maybe, Rav had met someone who meant what they said about fighting the Empire.

But, snapping back to reality, Rav knew that reality was the fact that the Empire stepped on anyone who threatened their power...and they kept stepping until you were dead.

Rav smiled at Squadron Leader, "A course, miss, no weapons. A blaster fight in the dark vacuum of space would do no-one a bit of good if we fry our only way home. And fighting, well miss, I'm just here to make some coin."


TAG Coffee_Ninja, JediFalcon, Mitth_Fisto, and kommando104

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hutts Scuttle, Skip One, smugglers run

"Yes ma'am, my apologies. I have some supplies to gather before I leave, I'll meet you later,"

"A course, miss, no weapons. A blaster fight in the dark vacuum of space would do no-one a bit of good if we fry our only way home. And fighting, well miss, I'm just here to make some coin."

Fress gave a short nod to Cain in appreciation as she listened to him say something to Book before leaving. She turned her attention to Book almost positive he was under an alias. She looked at Book with a frown as she gestured to the seat. He maybe looking for a paying job or he was lying to her with other intentions. Which would explain the mixed feelings she was sensing through the Force. “We’re hiring to fill in spots for the Squadron but from what I’m gathering, you maybe better suited to the crew aboard the ship,” she placed the application on the table along with a pen and clicked her recorder pen. “My condolences on the death of your son,” she started with a frown. “Not too much showed up on your background check. It brings up the question, with someone who doesn’t have a criminal background, what is a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

@Coffee_Ninja, Bravo, @Mitth_Fisto, and @kommando104

 

IC: Josch Decinchi alias Zieleb-Xan ‘Mac’ Macja
The Delicate Delinquent, enroute to Port Haven

Josch was tired, it felt like it had been ages since he had actually laid his head down to rest. Recent events had started to blur together – getting trapped by the Star Destroyers tractor beam outside the space station, fleeing the Johnny Boy, defending the Delinquent, and now this. He realized that he had been running on pure adrenaline and now that they were safely traveling in hyperspace his body finally relaxed. Josch did not even make it out of the Arrow before falling asleep, all he had accomplished was removing his helmet.

He quietly shut his eyes and allowed his mind to drift and wonder. Surprisingly his thoughts went to a woman, not the young girl he had most recently been involved with, but an older (by human standards) more mature woman. Her hair was amber, the perfect balance between yellow and orange, and it reminded him of color that blanketed the hete fields on Vernet at the sun’s setting in autumn. Her eyes seemed to waver between blue and green, it felt like he was looking upon two callais gems that had been inlaid into an ivory sculpture.

The woman’s facial features were undefined, keeping her true identity hidden from him. But he knew that she was meant to play an important role in his life as the two of them stood together in the valley of a mountain range. Each held an ignited lightsaber in their hands, Josch’s was gold and the woman’s was silver, and were clothed in a variant of Jedi robes, green and silver respectively. He watched as the amber-haired female lowered her blade and turned towards Josch. He too lowered his weapon and looked down into her brilliant eyes. Slowly the gap between their lips decreased until they were just about to touch….

{{HEY!!!}}

Josch’s eyes snapped open at Navi’s insistence. “By the verlin, Navi, you scared the danarla out of me!”

{{Sorry about that, but don’t you think that we should find out from someone what we should be doing right now?}}

The tired pilot rubbed his eyes and stretched out his limbs as much as the room in his cockpit allowed, “Alright, I guess you’re right.” He got up out of his seat, leaped out of the cockpit and gracefully landed on the deck below. He then pulled out his comlink and opened up a channel to Jim Palso. “Jim this is Mac. If you happen to be near Captain Yav can you kindly ask him what he wants me to do until we reach port?” He switched off his comlink and looked back at his droid companion, “Happy now, Mother?” He started to walk away when he called over his shoulder once more, “And I know you aren’t my Mother!”

TAG: Bravo Sith-I-5

 

IC: Maya Whitelight

Maya watched this Chiss walked in leave something then exit the same way. Couldn't help but chuckle half heartily in her mine thinking it was bounty as most coming here to post in here was looking for some one for something call it a past to be deal with. Looking up at Seira with a smirk on her face. Why not there wasn't anything coming in from her father, beside what was his words, be smart think like a business woman what could been down the road. One little path could lend into much bigger and more path, one could say it was the force hand in it. Picking herself up from her seated position to a standing one.
"Looks like something to cheek out, could be a fun time." , not that she wasn't looking for a way to be herself then being with something. There was a lot around this part that new her only because they knew about her father, his business. In a way still in some circles she was a mystery appearing when she was already fully grown. Not many but her father closest knew what she really was where she been raised and but who her mother. "Maybe on the way Hunter get here, you can never be to verable around here or anywhere around the galaxy." Knowing that she new what she ment about that there was only a few that new that she had some special skills that not all had, it was the force that aided her.

Tag: JediFalcon

 

IC: Cain Varss
Skip One, Smuggler's Run

Cain walked out of the bar and toward where his ship was docked. He got there and unlocked the cargo compartment and took inventory pulling out his mini-datapad in his pocket to write down what he had and then make a list for what he needed.

Have:
-Dressellian projectile rifle
-backpack with:
--ammo for the rifle and blaster packs
--synetherope
--adventure hiker and hunter durashelter(one man shelter, size of datapad packed up)
--9 adventure hiker and hunter ration pack
--water jug with filter
--c1 personal comlink
-Roamer 6 breath mask

Cain pulled out the comlink and put it in his pocket. I finally have use for it again. Cain was missing a few things. I should probably also get my hands on a blaster carbine. The rifle is good for range, but a carbine would probably suit me better for other purposes. Cain started the new list there.

Need:
-blaster carbine of some type
-blaster repair kit
-macrobinoculars
-medpack
-utility belt
-armor maybe?

Cain could not think of anything else he needed at the moment, and he slipped his mini-datapad into his pocket. He looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking, then opened the secret compartment he had installed in his Z-95's cargo compartment. That was where he kept the 2 million credits he had "borrowed" from his father. Cain knew his father didn't even miss the money or knew he had taken it because his step mother regularly spent that much on week long trips to Corellia. Cain started counting. 750,000 credits left...I wonder if I can put this to better use. He mostly just kept it as just-in-case money, but now that he was signing on with the Mercs, he might be able to offer some of it to them to put to good use.

Cain grabbed 10,000 credits worth of credit chips, grabbed his backpack, and locked up his cargo compartment. He knew credits would not get him far out here in the Outer Rim, but he hoped he could find some merchant that would take them. Cain headed off to the merchant quarter of Skip One. He found what appeared to be a weapon shop. He mentally reviewed his list. I should be able to purchase most, if not all, of those things here. The sign just said Jake’s and had a neon blaster pistol next to the name.

Cain walked through the door and almost chocked on the thick smoke that permeated the air, but despite that he could still smell the familiar smell of burnt flesh and hair. Someone had been shot here recently, though you could not tell by looking at the shop, not because it was clean, but because there were a variety scores on the walls from where blaster bolts had hit, some newer than others. A devaronian armed to the teeth stood behind the main counter.

Cain didn't waste time. “I need a variety of supplies, but I think you can help me find them all in this store, and I would prefer to only have to go to one store. Do you take credits?”

The devaronian looked Cain over before responding, sizing him up no doubt. “Yes, at a markup.”

“I expected that. First, I need a carbine. I’m fairly well versed with pistols and rifles, but not carbines. Any recommendations?” asked Cain. He was partially lying. He knew about blaster carbines, but he wanted to see if the clerk was just trying to sell him something expensive or something useful.

“Of course. In fact,” said the devaronian ducking under the counter for a second to grab something, “I just acquired this EE-3 carbine. It has a folding stock,” said the clerk coming back up with the carbine, “but no scope.”

“I won’t need a scope. I have Dressellian projectile rifle for longer range,” said Cain, pleased with the clerk’s suggestion. The clerk nodded in approval.

“The carbine is yours for 2,000 credits.”

Cain thought for a moment, and then returned with a counter offer. “I’m going to be buying a few more things other than this carbine. Let us see what your final price is once we've gathered everything. Now, let me give you the rest of my list. I need a utility belt with quite a few pouches for blaster packs, a blaster repair kit, macrobinoculars, and a quality medpack.”

The clerk did not miss a step and began gathering the requested supplies, and Cain inspected each. The utility belt was some sort of black leather and had, as requested, plenty of space for blaster packs. It also had a pouch for the macrobinoculars that the clerk had also brought, as well as a pouch for his comlink, and the belt could be integrated with the holster he currently wore. Cain slipped his old belt off and put it in his backpack, and then put the new one around his waist attaching the holster. Fits just right.

While Cain did that, the clerk had brought a medpack and a blaster repair kit. Cain inspected both, and found them sufficient. He took the macrobinoculars off of his belt and tested them out, though his ability to do so was quite limited in the shop, but they worked, and they were also quite compact.

Cain was pleased with what the clerk had brought him. “How much?”

The devaronian was thoughtful in his response. “4,000 credits.”

Cain held back a smile. Plenty of room to work with. Cain asked another question. “What kind of armor do you have?”

“Not much, and it’s all fairly expensive,” answered the clerk. “I do have a full set of clone trooper armor, phase one, but that alone will run you in the 10s of thousands of credits, and that’s probably the cheapest armor I have here.”

“I will give you 10,000 credits for all the items you have gathered plus the torso piece of that clone armor. Oh, and a can of black instapaint,” offered Cain.

The clerk thought it over for a second then extended his hand for a handshake, “Deal.”

Cain shook his hand and the clerk disappeared into the back and brought back the torso piece and the instapaint. Cain wasted no time and took the armor and the paint to an unoccupied corner and started applying it. Within minutes the armor was now black instead of white. He slipped his black jacket off and slipped the armor on over his t-shirt, then put the jacket back on. Cain then grabbed his backpack. He saw something else he needed, a strap for the carbine. “Can I have this too?” asked Cain. The devaronian nodded in approval, and Cain took it and put it on his new EE-3 carbine, then slung it over his shoulder.

“Thanks for the help,” said Cain as he handed over the 10,000 credits to the clerk. With that Cain left the shop and headed back to his Z-95. Cain never expected to need the equipment he had just purchased, and he was not sure he would need it for his new job, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Tag: none

 

IC: Seira Trasks
Heaven’s Den Skip One Smugglers Run

"Maybe on the way Hunter get here, you can never be to verable around here or anywhere around the galaxy."

“True,” Seira agreed as the feeling grew stronger to check it out. She remember hearing about this group and how they were starting to go against the Empire. The destruction of Alderaan almost made her want to jump in the fight. It wasn’t right to destroy an entire planet over a few individuals helping out Jedi. “On the other hand. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out and I have this strong feeling this is where I'm meant to go. I've never felt it this strong before.”

Whitelight

 

IC: Maya Whitelight
Haven's Den skip One Smugglers Run

"thats a feeling I getting to, I wonder if they take pets," It was almost smirking with a playfulness to it. Deep down inside of her was something that was pulling her towards this group, it wasn't by chance that running into Seira either with the force with in her. Smiling as went to get her tab taken care of even those Uncle Jordan had already told the bar keep that he give her what ever wanted. Only could find him on the way, on will she would come back later on to say good bye. Coming down the street was Tvian with Hunter it seem that reaching out that people was very scared of him. "Come on we going to cheek out a job." , giving her a frown as one only gives to a small child he just keep his mouth zip up. "By the way Tvian this is Seira, and Seira this is the leash I was talking about being keep on. giving a light hearted chuckle. Do you know anything about this group, that seem to be hiring.

Tag: JediFalcon

 

IC: Captain Yavscout, Bridge Officer Bob, Delicate Delinquent bow compartment
Location: Hyperspace – four hours out from Port Haven


"If he dies," Palso joked, scrolling onto the scene with a sense of confidence, "I get his command and the ship. Having a ship like this with the capability to pull ships out of hyperspace," Palso whistled, "I could turn pirate and make a killing on the profit."

Yav looked over the yellow-painted railings at the sound of Palso’s voice, then rested his forearms on them, looking down at the Corellian.

Behind him, Vestor looked frantically round for somewhere to anchor the synthrope, in case the railings gave way.

“Nice of you to turn up, Captain. We called for you an hour ago.” Yav was distracted from Palso by Sounil, down on the same level as the time-travelling pirate, shaking her head meaningfully. “Err. We didn’t?.” He looked back at Jim. “Sorry, ignore that bit. So, we are four hours out from Port Haven. This is where those Imperial Spacetroopers were holed up for so many hours. If you were them, and you had planted a locator beacon, where would you have put it?”

Bridge Officer Bob descended the steps down from the first level gantry, nearest the hole that the Imperials had blown through the ship, and crossed to join the Twi'lek, but looked up at Yav. “Do we know if there were any security holocams aimed into this place. How would the Navy expect to maintain order without some sort of surveillance system?”

“Look into it, Lieutenant.” Yav returned, continuing gravely, “Though if the Strident Haze was any guide, security was maintained with cloaked Shadow Troopers materialising next to any wrong-doers for maximum pants filling. That'd keep most crews on their toes.”

Tag: Jim Palso

---

IC: Corporal Loretta, Aurora Cradmoon (npcs), Delicate Delinquent TIE Hangar
Location: Hyperspace – three hours, fifty-five minutes out from Port Haven


Loretta woke up in one of the crew bunks aboard the Theta-class barge that carried the GRF's sole All Terrain Armoured Transport, and looked across at the dishevelled bed that Aurora had claimed.

The bed was empty.

The Corporal checked her chronometer. Barely forty standard minutes since they had gone to bed, having stood down after the false alert.

She wondered where the Cradmoon girl was, and would have gone back to much needed sleep, but for the fact that Aurora had had that emotional breakup just that day.

She better find her.

Loretta threw back the blankets and sought out her boots. Her choice of bedwear was a long white t-shirt that her Security counterpart, Corporal Youngstown - still aboard the Sword of Justice - had bought her one shore leave.

It featured a dead Beast, pinned to the ground by a blood-stained flagpole, bearing the sigil of the Northern Region.

Aurora, whose t-shirt bore cutesy animal prints, had commented on it earlier, the memory of which brought a smile to her face.

Loretta left the four-bunk sleeping area, checked out the flight cabin and the kitchenette, then headed back to the huge cargo holding the kneeling AT-AT, and leaning out over the area, spotted the top of Aurora's head, down at the bottom of the ladder, legs hanging over the side of the open flank door.

Loretta sighed and climbed down the ladder, not something that she wanted to do when she was knackered. She did not once consider the view it would afford anyone on the ground, since the Kings Navy didn't really differentiate between the genders overmuch

"Hey." She greeted, jumping down behind the Merc, scratching gently at the girl's scalp. "Couldn't sleep?"

Cradmoon, legs hanging over the edge of the cargo bay, heels tapping the dark metal, nodded to the parked Arrow of Light, a couple dozen metres aft of her perch. "Look at him, sleeping without a care in the world."

"Oh, Aurora."Loretta looked. The yellow fighter's pilot certainly looked relaxed as he slept within the cockpit of his craft. He seemed to jerk awake, rubbing his eyes, and trying to stretch. "Mm. Sounds like he heard you."

The Erphae leaped up out of his cockpit, and landed smoothly on the deck beside his craft, pulling out his comlink.

The Merc girl sighed heavily.

"Now, watching his acrobatics is not going to help you forget him any quicker, is it?"

"What if I don't want to forget him?"

Mac finished his call, and looked back at his ship, said something, then stalked away, calling, "And I know you aren’t my Mother!"

Loretta tapped the younger woman on the shoulder, "Come on, back to bed, you."

She noticed two Jod techs that had chosen that moment to pass by the open barge, stop in their tracks to stare up at them both.

"What? Oh, not in that way!" Loretta looked around, and slapped her hand against the flank door controls, which immediately had the several metre-high black side hatch, sliding shut, "Aurora! Inside, and mind your legs."

Tag: Mac

 

IC: Rav Cater
The Hutt’s Scuttle, Skip One, Smuggler's Run


“We’re hiring to fill in spots for the Squadron but from what I’m gathering, you maybe better suited to the crew aboard the ship,” she placed the application on the table along with a pen and clicked her recorder pen. “My condolences on the death of your son,” she started with a frown. “Not too much showed up on your background check. It brings up the question, with someone who doesn’t have a criminal background, what is a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

"A crewer position fits me just fine, miss," Rav said, taking in her next comment with a moment of thought, "Have you ever lost anyone, miss? If you have, then you understand that all you want to do is run away from the pain. That's what I did, I ran. I wanted to forget about my past."


TAG Coffee_Ninja, JediFalcon, Mitth_Fisto

---

IC: Jim Palso
Level Four, Bow compartment, Delicate Delinquent



"...If you were them, and you had planted a locator beacon, where would you have put it?”

Palso shrugged, "Probably in one of the pipe emergency hatches. Pop open a hatch, stick it on the inside part of the hatch, and then close it. No one would guess. Or, if your afraid of tripping an alarm while doing that, I'd say on the top side of any structure that hangs from the ceiling. Most people can't see that high up and of its small enough, someone would be very hard pressed to see it, even if their at the right angle. You would have to be on the pipe itself...and how often does security check the top side of a pipe unless something is wrong? Any other guess...in the back of a storage locker if all else fails."

Bridge Officer Bob descended the steps down from the first level gantry, nearest the hole that the Imperials had blown through the ship, and crossed to join the Twi'lek, but looked up at Yav. “Do we know if there were any security holocams aimed into this place. How would the Navy expect to maintain order without some sort of surveillance system?”

“Look into it, Lieutenant.” Yav returned, continuing gravely, “Though if the Strident Haze was any guide, security was maintained with cloaked Shadow Troopers materialising next to any wrong-doers for maximum pants filling. That'd keep most crews on their toes.”

Palso's comm went off and the smuggler answered it, "Palso here."

“Jim this is Mac. If you happen to be near Captain Yav can you kindly ask him what he wants me to do until we reach port?”

"Hold on a sec buddy," Jim said and turned his attention back to Yav, "Mac wants to know where you want him until we reach port?"


TAG Sith-I-5 and CPL_Macja

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Port Haven.

Taab was impressed, well as impressed as a Mandalorian ever was by the accomplishments of aruetiise, which is to say he was pleasantly surprised by what had just transpired. He had overlooked the LE series repair droid earlier on this excursion, he tended to do that with droids. It may have been a holdover from being forced to serve with droids during the Clone Wars and seeing first hand how often they mucked things up. He glanced appreciatively at LER now though. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating the beskar'ad (droid) again. He wondered briefly if it had acquired any combat programming in its obviously long history.

Likewise he hadn't expected much from the new crewman, not yet anyway. He had thought there would be a long up-training period to get them up to speed, especially for the Devaronian. But Al'kesh had already proven his worth. By taking the initiative and going beyond Taab's orders to just watch the prisoner he had very possibly saved all their skins. If nothing else he had saved them a lot of grief. He gave the red skinned being a silent nod. It was about as much an acknowledgement of a job well done as anybody would ever get from the stoic mercenary.

Of course the Skipper himself had surprised him the most. First the way he had suddenly known about the danger here in the aft section of the ship. Taab had seen that kind of "hunch" before, and it had always seemed to favor a Jedi. He suppressed a frown. Lasso was too young to be a Jedi, but he might have some connection to the Force. It would certainly explain the Kingdom of Jod's interest in the young man. Taab filed that information away for later though.

He had actually been even more surprised by the Skipper's actions in the ship's cargo hold. In earlier conversations he had shown an aversion to cold blooded killing of a prisoner, yet that was just what he had done. Taab of course didn't have a problem with it, death was a natural part of life, and Two Thumbs presented a threat that had to be dealt with. Taab was just surprised that Lasso had the gett'se ("courage" "nerve") to do it himself. Taab silently gave the Captain credit for that, the man was willing to get "dirty" rather than delegate it to a subordinate. It didn't make it any easier to follow such a man in Taab's eyes. He was paid to do that in any case, to do otherwise would be unprofessional, but it did make it more enjoyable.

He gave another nod to Captain Lasso, as an acknowledgement of the Captain's gratitude and of his orders. The former was unnecessary, it was all a part of the job. The second was expected, besides Taab himself wanted to know more about the man that had threatened his contract. He then waited for the Captain to leave with Biggs and Totter before ejecting the blade from his gauntlet. Looking to Al'kesh he mumbled. "Lets get to work."

To be continued...

TAG: Bravo (for the "going to town" group)

---

IC: Atin Taab
Prime Idiot, Skip 1, Smuggler's Run

Pleased with himself for successfully completing the first two background checks with relative ease Atin moved off from his "perch" and headed back down towards the bar where Streets had planted himself. The Chiss may have been teasing him before, but he deserved a progress report on what Atin had just done. Especially since it would show the blue skinned being that Atin knew what he was doing. Standing behind his left shoulder Atin silently slid the data pad (which had the completed checks uploaded on it now) onto the bar next to the Street's drink.

Atin hoped it had been a smooth handover, and would go unnoticed by others in the bar, but he should have known better. A Mandalorian alone in a smugglers den like the Run would gather enough attention. One with a Chiss compatriot would garner even more.

Streets barely responded to the data pad appearing before him, rather than pick it up and look at it he continued to nurse his drink. Atin started to take back the pad, if the Chiss didn't want to see it yet, then Atin would continue on with other checks as they came in and give Streets an overview when they left this rock. As soon as his armored glove touched the pad Streets moved his own to take possession of it. He stood up slowly, glancing at the contents with a sigh before downing the rest of his drink.

Without a word the Chiss paid his tab and made for the door. Atin followed him, not sure of where they were headed next, but hanging more recruitment posters seemed a strong possibility. They were passing by the booths when a chair was pushed out across their path. Atin's hand went down towards his holstered Westar-35 blaster pistol, but he stopped as he soon saw that there was no threat.

"Its rare to see Mandalorian armor these days," Atin could feel the furry being looking him up and down, "and your armor passes the test up close. And you," he turned his attention to Streets "A Chiss out here? Now that IS rare. If you don't mind, have a seat. It looks like you two are looking to sell----or should I say recruit---and I'm interested to hear your story."

Atin wasn't sure if Streets would accept the Ryn's invitation. He was almost certain his father would not have, so it would be interesting to see what the Chiss would do.

TAG: Mitth_Fisto, Bravo

OOC: Mitthy gave me permission to move Streets in this post to get us inline with Bravo's post for Dom. Hope I did the Chiss justice

 

OOG: Classic compass; "North" is the top of the map (where the Key is located), with South, etc. in their usual positions.

I forgot about Havoc Neb. Assume he's staying with the shuttle for extra security.

I also know "Port Haven," from looking at the sources, is more referenced towards the Shadows of the Empire. I'll have a reasoning to explain the "reversion" from our Port Haven back to the canon version.

The additions to Port Haven can be attributed to greyjedi125, Mitth_Fisto, and Farsox over the course of Intervention. Bravo added the permacrete defensive walls and watch towers, an addition I added today.



IC: Jason Lasso
Leaving Luck's Gamble, heading to Haven's Water, Port Haven (early afternoon)


Jason stalked through the sands of Port Haven, his boots shuffling through the beach sand and his coat wiping around him, in part of a slight breeze and in part of his speed of walk. Behind him, Mr. Biggs and Major Totter tried to keep pace. The place---Port Haven---had grown quite a bit over the years; once a small smuggler's Shadowport, the Shadowport had maintained its secrecy yet added a few buildings, which included:

• The trash heaps had been replaced with permacrete defensive walls that were 10 meters high. Three watch towers stood sentry---watching the dangers of the jungle---on the North (by the gate behind the Octagon), on the East (just North of Hallomar's Shack / Curing Tent), and on the South (just behind the Public Hangers). Just tower had a basic set-up of a search light (only turned on when needed), a set of Model TD2.3 electrobinoculars, and a 6-2Aug2 hunting rifle. Most of the sentries were either regular smugglers to Port Haven Hallomar could trust and were a good shot or were part of the semi-legit Port Haven Security Force, which was a rag-tag group of stranded smugglers who worked security at Port Haven to earn enough credits to get off world at some point. Manned 24/7, the watch towers provided security for Port Haven against the predators of the jungle.

• Several Low Security Public Hangers (which were open landing pads with a small "hanger" of shelter at the far end away from the ship) were to the South of the settlement, where the permacrete wall had been pushed back in this area and some of the jungle had been cut back to allow 7 hangers for landings; the permacrete wall now surrounded the hangers' grouping far edge.

• To the Norh of the settlement you had Free Trader's Alleyway that cut through the jungle path; permacrete defensive walls (10 meters high) kept the vast jungle at bay on either side, while several hotel buildings sat up against the security barriers and several small small booth and cart stores had set up shop in the ally itself.

• Free Trader's Alleyway ended (at the top "North" of the map for the jungle path) in the infamous Octagon, a fighting and entertainment arena; the permacrete defensive wall surrounded the octagon's outer edge to the jungle, but had a security gate behind the octagon's structure that lead out into the jungle.

• A scrap yard was directly to the East of Hallomar's Shack and Curing Tent, up against the inside of the permacrete wall, which was pushed out some towards the jungle to hold the amount of scrap in the yard.

The trip to Haven's Water didn't take long, only a few minutes from where the Luck's Gamble was parked on the beach South of the settlement. If the several ships parked at the Public Hangers and the ships dotting the beach by the surf were any indictation of the patrons at Haven's Water, it gave a good judge. While not "packed" by any stretch of the imagination, Haven's Water still had a fair, small number of patrons in its seats. Finding one of the many booths, Lasso looked at Mr. Biggs, "Ask the bartender to see if he knows where Hallomar is; we'll need supplies, but I want it done to where no one knows who we are yet. So Hallomar will be our best bet. Once anyone finds out who we are, we'll be in a sea of questions about Captain Taller and I'd rather deflect those questions as long as we can."

"Aye, Captain, you be speaking good truth there, ya are. I'll get to it," Mr. Biggs replied and was gone towards the bar.

Lasso looked at Totter as he motioned for the corner booth, "Now we wait. No drinks for you, whatsoever."

"Just when I was hoping to forget about sobering up," Totter said, "Who are you, my mother?"

"Your boss."

"Close enough," Totter replied.

And then they waited for their two starfighter pilots.


TAG Bardan_Jusik, GenOochy, KraytDragon90

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hutts Scuttle Skip One Smugglers Run

"A crewer position fits me just fine, miss," Rav said, taking in her next comment with a moment of thought, "Have you ever lost anyone, miss? If you have, then you understand that all you want to do is run away from the pain. That's what I did, I ran. I wanted to forget about my past."

“I can understand. I worked for CorSec for ten years. I worked under cover and a mission got botched and a child was killed because of it. I left and joined the Mercs two weeks later. I can understand that,” Fress explained with a frown as she sat down at the table. She suspected he was an alias but to prove it would take time. She hoped that telling him she worked for CorSec might throw him off a little. Anyone who lied to her now, she dealt with them personally. But she also knew she couldn’t call him a lier either no matter how tempted she was. She didn’t trust him. “At the moment we bring back the recruits who want to join. I’m signing those up for the squadron right away because I am the squadron leader. Those who want the crewer position, Captain Lasso will be making those decisions on who goes where.”


IC: Seira Trasks
Heaven’s Den Skip One Smugglers Run

"Come on we going to cheek out a job." , giving her a frown as one only gives to a small child he just keep his mouth zip up. "By the way Tvian this is Seira, and Seira this is the leash I was talking about being keep on. giving a light hearted chuckle. Do you know anything about this group, that seem to be hiring.

“I’ve heard rumours that they have recently engaged the Empire and plan to take it to them,” Seira explained with a frown. “Whether that’s true or not but I had heard of bounty’s being issued for them. It sounds like it’s true, and if so after they destroyed Alderaan I have this strong feeling to help stop the Empire.”

Seira realized this was the first time she cared about anything since her fiancé was killed. She never felt this way before in a long time. She headed towards the door determined to check this job out to see if it were true or not.

Bravo, Coffee_Ninja, Mitth_Fisto, Whitelight

 

IC: Captain Yavscout, Bridge Officer Bob, Delicate Delinquent bow compartment
Location: Hyperspace – four hours out from Port Haven


Palso shrugged, "Probably in one of the pipe emergency hatches. Pop open a hatch, stick it on the inside part of the hatch, and then close it. No one would guess. Or, if your afraid of tripping an alarm while doing that, I'd say on the top side of any structure that hangs from the ceiling. Most people can't see that high up and of its small enough, someone would be very hard pressed to see it, even if their at the right angle. You would have to be on the pipe itself...and how often does security check the top side of a pipe unless something is wrong? Any other guess...in the back of a storage locker if all else fails."

Palso's comm went off and the smuggler answered it, "Palso here."

After a pause, which looked like he was listening to his caller, Palso said, "Hold on a sec buddy," Jim turned his attention back to Yav, "Mac wants to know where you want him until we reach port?"

"Better bring him in here." Yav asked, "Like they say about Dia'noga lumi technicians, 'many hands make light work'." He ignored the groaning.

"Captain, how about you and me check on these pipe emergency hatches?" Bobob volunteered. He turned to Sounil. "Agent, storage lockers?"

"On it." Sounil signalled a pair of Go Team-suited men, and headed out of Yav's line-of-sight.

"I already have people up here checking on the pipes that can be reached, and I'm going to check those above you. You got a droid that can join me up there?"

Tag: Palso

 

IC: Maya Whitelight
Heaven Den-Skip One Smuggler Run

I’ve heard rumours that they have recently engaged the Empire and plan to take it to them,” Seira explained with a frown. “Whether that’s true or not but I had heard of bounty’s being issued for them. It sounds like it’s true, and if so after they destroyed Alderaan I have this strong feeling to help stop the Empire.”

Letting herself listen only to have shivers creep in her at the Alderaan, remember where she was when she felt such rush of screams with in the force. It had taken her awhile to figure out just what happen to the planet even more to understand why been able to feel it so strongly. It was what though went along that could mean that there be other opportunities. Knowing be on that if the Empire could do something like this to billion of people then there wasn't the respect for any life forms. I have to agree about the Empire needing to be stop. Stopping long enough to take the leash out of Tvain hand it seem that Hunter became very calm even to the point that of sleeping baby. It was then that would follow her to this Hutt place, still didn't like anything that said Hutt but would still go to see what opportunity could be there in wasn't like wasn't a bad flier.

Tag: JediFalcon

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hutts Scuttle Skip One Smugglers Run

"A crewer position fits me just fine, miss," Rav said, taking in her next comment with a moment of thought, "Have you ever lost anyone, miss? If you have, then you understand that all you want to do is run away from the pain. That's what I did, I ran. I wanted to forget about my past."

“I can understand. I worked for CorSec for ten years. I worked under cover and a mission got botched and a child was killed because of it. I left and joined the Mercs two weeks later. I can understand that,” Fress explained with a frown as she sat down at the table. She suspected he was an alias but to prove it would take time. She hoped that telling him she worked for CorSec might throw him off a little. Anyone who lied to her now, she dealt with them personally. But she also knew she couldn’t call him a lier either no matter how tempted she was. She didn’t trust him. “At the moment we bring back the recruits who want to join. I’m signing those up for the squadron right away because I am taking over as squadron leader. How do you feel about fixing fighters?”

Bravo

IC: Seira Trasks
Heavens Den Skip One Smugglers run
Seira gave a short nod noting that the dog was now sitting beside Maya. She shook her head as she walked towards the door wondering what she saw in the mutt, sometimes they made good companions. She couldn't deny that. "I'm going there now. See you in a bit," she called over her shoulder.

Whitelight

 

IC: Chris Streets
Prime Idiot, Skip One

Getting stopped by the Ryn was surprising, although after a fashion it was merely another moment in the day to day lives of living on the fringes of society. After all that in these parts of the galaxy was where the Ryn and other less desirables lived. The fact that this one was able to identify his companions armor as genuine was a bit of a surprise though. Also held a couple interesting possibilities, coupled with being able to identify his race this man at least could make a good information broker if not a good possible recruit.

Tilting his head to the Ryn he moved and took a proffered empty seat. Pulling out a flyer he passed it to the Ryn. "Listen to your blessings content."

TAG: Bravo, @Barden_Jusik

 

IC: SG-12 (Imperial Saber Guard npc), Imperial Garrison vehicle bay
Location: Malastare


SG-12 landed heavily on the back of the AT-AT, and tucked into a roll to absorb the impact, and smoothly came up into a standing position, looking over the humped vehicle of war.

"Cannot see anything." He reported into his wristlink.

"Try over by the neck."

The Sabre Guard trotted over the dull-sounding durasteel towards the head end, and as he came to the edge of the main body, were the concertina-like neck junction started, he spotted the bolo-ball tucked the V between the neck and the cockpit head.

"How the heck did those talentless abos get you up here?" He asked as he dropped down onto the neck and tiptoed carefully over to it, picking the leather object with both hands, and calling, "Watch out down below!" to the gathered Imperial soldiers milling about the garrison's ground level vehicle bay.

SG-12 dropped the ball and booted it clear.

He headed away to the back of the huge walker, and looked over the frenetic scene, focussing on an MSE-6 zigzagging across the deck to make its way to the rear of the Swift Assault 5 Hoverscout that the planetary governor had deigned to provide as space for his investigations into the Mercs and Kingdom of Jod setup, although to be fair, they did not have enough data to slow the functionality on a datapad, let alone fill it.

"Watch out below!" He warned again, and did a controlled Force Leap to the top of a nearby AT-ST, then to the ground, where he stalked quickly to the back of that almost sixteen metre-long white vehicle, where he and the two Imperial Intelligence techs that had been assigned to him, were working out of.

SG stood aside to let the MSE droid roll down a little ramp, and zoom off back to where it had come from.

He ducked inside, and sought out the nearest bucket swivel-chair to drop into, looking at the tan-tunic'd analysts in crewcuts working their screens.

"Anything new?" His silver helmet was already up in the driver area, so he did not have to remove it.

The nearest one turned his way. "Why do you sit in the chairs with your armour on? You know you struggle to get up afterwards."

"I shall ask again. Anything new?"

"Well, it seems that your Mercs went on a recruitment drive at Bespin."

SG frowned. He knew a handful of planets and systems, but that wasn't one of them.

"They mine Tibanna Gas, which is used to power blasters. But that is not important right now." The man revealed. "We have the reports from the local security force. The Mercs went to a bar where spacers and lowlifes congregate, threw around the name of a 'Captain Taller', which seemed to be widely known, and picked up people who demonstrated anti-Imperial leanings."

The Force Sensetive nodded as he absorbed this. "So. They are recruiting. That tells us something. So, how did this reach our ears?"

"Not sure what happened next, but it sounds like the Mercs took sides in a violent disagreement involving a Rusty "Two Thumbs" McWilliams, someone regarded as a high-value target by ISB."

The second tech turned. "The Bureau are sending strong signals that we should back off from this."

"What do ISB care who brings their suspect in? They think we care who takes credit?" The Saber Guard was new; he did not yet know of the permanent state of rivalry that the Emperor fostered in his agencies.

The first tech pressed a key and pointed to the monitor screen above them on the wall, showing a picture of a Light-class destroyer hanging in space. "Anoat Revenue Service pursuit fighter picked this up with its visual scanning. The ship is tied in with the Merc's escape with Mister McWilliams, and is suspected of destroying the ISB Patrol Corvette that intercepted the Merc's shuttle."

"Crueya Vandron is going bat-sith over that; apparently some SAGroup kids were on the corvette for a reality holo. If it weren't for Alderaan, that's what would be hogging the news channels."

SG-12 fingered his chin in thought. "Why go to Bespin to pick up new miners? Have the Mercs got the rights to their own tibanna operation?"

The Intell' pair exchanged sneers, then, "We think they chose Bespin because it is a bit of a shadowport."

Twelve sat back and crossed his arms over his armoured torso. "Fine. So get me a list of shadowports."

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Rav Cater
The Hutt’s Scuttle, Skip One, Smuggler's Run


“At the moment we bring back the recruits who want to join. I’m signing those up for the squadron right away because I am taking over as squadron leader. How do you feel about fixing fighters?”

Taking over as the squadron leader? Rav repeated in his mind, Ah, to find the soon to be disposed squadron leader would be perfect. Maybe pit them against each other...

Rav collected his thoughts again, ever so careful as to not allow emotion into his thoughts. It helped to keep certain...people out of his mind. "Fighters? I'll be more then happy to help in that area! Never hurts to get the elbows dirty once in a while," Rav signed his name and slid the employment contract back to the woman, "When do I start?"


TAG Coffee_Ninja, JediFalcon, Mitth_Fisto, kommando104

---

IC: Jim Palso
Level Four, Bow compartment, Delicate Delinquent



"Better bring him in here." Yav asked, "Like they say about Dia'noga lumi technicians, 'many hands make light work'." He ignored the groaning.

Palso nodded, "Got it," Jim swicthed over his comm back to Xan, "Hey buddy, head down to the Bow compartment, level four. We need all the hands we can get."

Lowering the comlink, Palso listened to Yav speak again, "I already have people up here checking on the pipes that can be reached, and I'm going to check those above you. You got a droid that can join me up there?"

"Sure thing," Jim said and brought his comlink up to his lips, "Bugger and Walking Library, double time it to level four of the bow compartment. And Bugger, make sure you have your miniature rocket boosters attached."

Jim lowered the comlink once again and looked at Yav, "I can stand here and cheer-lead if you want. Or is there something more useful that I could do to help out?"


TAG CPL_Macja and Sith-I-5

---

IC: Dom
Prime Idiot, Skip One, Smuggler's Run


"Ah," Dom said, looking over the offered flyer, "The Mercs. Yes, I've heard of you---them," Dom looked up from the flyer and at both, he assumed, to be Mercs, "Rumor on the Rim is that you boys have been sticking it to the Empire last few months since Watava was occupied by Imperial forces. Word has it to that your flying around with Kingdom of Jod folks...myths and fairy tales if you ask anyone. They claim that these Jod warships are nothing more then Rebels, organized crime like the Hutts, or other less savory groups out to hurt the Empire. Fairy tales or not, truth or not, I believe every tale to have truth to it and every truth to have a fairy tale to it. But what certainties do I have that joining up with the Mercs is the right thing? What can you promise me?"


TAG Mitth_Fisto and Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hutts Scuttle Skip One Smugglers Run

"When do I start?"

Fress smiled as she picked up the application and placed it with Cain’s. “We’ll be meeting in the hangarbay before heading to the meet up area. You’ll be given the cordinates there,” she handed him a card with her contact info on it. “Here’s my contact information. You can stick around us or meet us later. It’s up to you.”

@Coffee_Ninja, Bravo, @Mitth_Fisto, @kommando104

 

OOC: not to be read during meal time...especially a family meal time

IC: Baille Hart, Mary Formal, makeshift landing area
Location: Flitter – former Alliance Safe World


Baille stood by with rapidly decreasing patience while the short-skirted blonde checked her SGIS' flimsi.

“Baille Hart, right?”

“As it says there.”

“And you got your arse rescued by an SGIS agent?”

“Believe me, Officer, I know how it sounds.” Baille glanced at the Rebel. “So, do I have any outstanding warrants?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Though she was joking, due to the similarity to being stopped by Corsec Traffic when she'd got her first speeder, she knew she had an outstanding warrant. And a death sentence, something she would somehow pay Colonel Thaw back for.

Mary turned the flimsy over. “The rest of it is blank.”

“It was a short hyperspace jump; what can I say. So, can we continue?”

“Is this a rescue?” Mary asked as she handed back the flimsy.

Baille folded it and tucked it into the cockpit. She had a feeling the Twi’lek would ask for it when this was over.

“Maybe later. But for the time being, I'm just delivering medicine.”

“Medicine.”

“Yeah, have a look.” Baille stepped to the back of her V-Wing, gratified that the appropriated stormtrooper booties gripped onto the wet rock without slipping. She opened the small cargo hatch, revealing the dozens of small cardboard boxes.
She pulled a couple of boxes off the pile, and looked at the labels. “Broad spectrum anti-biotics. Just the thing for a population that has been without medical care for over a year. And this red box, I think this will counteract the toxin that the Empire put into your water supplies.”

She looked up from the labels at the impression of a shadow being cast over her, to find the woman standing rather close. “Hey, you want to back up a bit?”

“What’s wrong? Do I frighten you?” Mary wheedled. She continued, not giving Hart a chance to respond, or do more than observe while the elfin stranger cocked her head, looking like she had been swimming, and was trying to let water drain from an ear. The Rebel now started to stroke the fighter. “What sort of ship is she? In case anyone asks.”

Mental alarm bells were going off, “She is...she's an Alpha-3 Nimbus. Also known as a V, uh, V-Wing.”

“I am hungry. Did you bring any sustenance?”

Odd word. Sustenance. Keeping her eyes on Mary, but standing her ground, Baille stayed by the comforting bulk of the V-Wing. “There-there may be rations in the ship. The escape did not give me a *cough*.”

The former Imperial blinked in surprise and chagrin as her unexpected cough spattered droplets of red against the woman's mouth and nose.

“Oh, I am dreadfully sorry.” Was what she meant to say, but there was a tightness in her chest, combined with a sudden shortness of breath that was stopping her saying anything.

“They say the way to a femme's heart is through her stomach.” The colonist was imparting dreamily, “But I am a rib-cage kinda girl myself.”

Looking down as her breath failed her, Baille could see why; the woman's pale white arm was sticking out of her drokking chest!

She dropped to her knees, struggling for any morsel of air, any smidgen. Her fingers ripped the fabric on the Rebel's left leg from above her knee to halfway down her shin, then collapsed, glass-eyed onto the rock.

There was a muffled crack of cartilage as Mary twisted her wrist free of the dead human's chest, crimson blood pumping freely from the heart that she now held.

She straightened, finally hearing the strident doo-weet-do-woo-wooing from the black R4 sphere on the other side of the fighter.

“Can I help you?” Staring indolently at the indignant droid, Mary took a bite from the heart, hot human blood gushing down her chin while alien adrenaline pulsed through her being.

This would sustain her for a Standard month. And then the cycle would begin again.

* * * *
Twenty minutes later

Still in her human form, Mary Formal felt renewed and..., and confident about her future, as she sat in the V-Wing's cockpit, accessing the navicomputer as the starfighter lifted into the air.

This settling down on one planet lark had clearly not been a success. She needed to be on the move to be safe.

She would sell off those pharmaceuticals to make some pin money. Get herself set up, pay the laundry bill to get the red dress she had stripped off the body properly washed and repaired. Sodden from a hurried rinse in the river, it was in a damp bundle under her chair. Couple new pairs of tights probably would not go amiss. Also, the R4 needed a memory wipe. It was too loyal to the Hart woman. She had manually latched the canopy down, in case the droid got any funny ideas.

She had managed to glean the names of some shadowports during her time on the Alliance "safe world", and was now entering them into the search engine to check relative distances.

Smugglers Run had been the favourite, she'd been thinking about it for months, but - “Bloomin' heck, that's almost half a galaxy away! Computer says 'no'!”

Tatooine - “Even further.”

Port Haven - “Mm. That's not too far.”

Port Jerell - “Not related to a Port Kal-El by any chance, are you?” She asked aloud, then noticed the screen that relayed the droid's words was flashing up.

What are you blithering about, you murderous slitch?

“Blithering?” She raised an eyebrow. “I spent over a hundred years on a planet where that would have made sense.” And then Torchwood tried to teleport me into their Sun. Must have been a Taungsday. She sighed heavily at the depressing memory, and made a choice. “Port Haven it is, then.”

The black Imperial V-Wing shot up out of Flitter's atmosphere, and climbed out of the gravity well, the navicomputer working through the hyperspace coordinates.

The small craft's hyperdrive motivator flared, and she jumped to lightspeed, disappearing as if she had never existed.

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Cain Varss
Hanger, Skip One, Smuggler's Run

Cain climbed into the cockpit of his Z-95, electing not to stow his backpack, new phase I clone armor torso piece, or his new EE-3 carbine in his cargo compartment for the time being. He took the backpack and carbine off as he slid into the pilot chair and placed both into his lap, the carbine pointed in a safe direction. Just to make sure no accidents occur. Cain’s thoughts returned to Kate briefly. Cain's mind wandering to Kate was not an odd occurrence, and in fact one that had become increasingly common. It does not matter how many call girls I see or one night stands I have or how far I run...well, I haven’t made it to the next galaxy over yet, so I guess I cannot rule out the running part.

Cain stopped the self-destructive thought pattern for the moment and gave a brief self-assessment. He was tired. The trip to Smuggler’s Run had not been long but he had not been sleeping well for months. He decided some shut-eye was needed before embarking on the next journey, though he thought informing the representative of his new employer would be prudent.

Cain pulled out the flimsi that Sherland had given him and copied the information into his mini-datapad, then pulled out his comlink and put the frequency for Sherland into the comlink. “Sherland, this is Varss. I am going to sleep some before we depart. Message me if something interesting happens before then, ma’am. That is, unless you need or could use me for anything, in which case I would be happy to assist. Is there anything I can assist with?” Cain hoped she would say no, but there were three distinct reasons for helping if Sherland requested his help. First, it was a new employer that he wanted to impress. Second, Cain's life, and the life of his new crew members, might hang in the balance judging from the rumors of the enemies that the Mercs had. Third, she was pretty darn attractive, and his longing for Kate made him long for a woman in general. I have got to get those thoughts out of my head if she is going to be my squadron leader. Despite those compelling reasons, Cain still would not mind sleep. Though I can get sleep on the hyperspace trip to where ever we are headed next...assuming we even go through hyperspace.

Tag: JediFalcon

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hutts Scuttle Skip One, Smugglers Run

“Sherland, this is Varss. I am going to sleep some before we depart. Message me if something interesting happens before then, ma’am. That is, unless you need or could use me for anything, in which case I would be happy to assist. Is there anything I can assist with?”

Fress listened to the message. She hit send to answer his question. “Go ahead and get some rest. We’ll see you in a couple of hours from now,” she turned her attention to Book with a frown. “You will be starting as soon as we get back to the redevue point.”

Bravo, kommando104