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

OOG:

Sith, I'm acquiring the services of your NPC Commodore Norris for a quick moment for sake of speed, then handing him right back to you.


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IC: Hunter One
Cockpit, TIE Advanced x1, Coruscant Aces' Mercenary Squadron, leaving orbit of Port Haven


The rhythmic breathing of his TIE Pilot helmet reminded Hunter One of his very real vulnerability up here in space as the fiery remnants of the planet's atmosphere below belted away from his transparisteel cockpit viewport and star dotted blackness of space replaced it. And, in the same rhythmic breathing moment, Hunter One also found comfort in the same vulnerability as a small group of Imperial warships dropped out of hyperspace ahead by a intercept time of roughly 2 minutes; Hunter One had never been disappointed by a TIE series starfighter and put more faith in the fighter-class then most others. The TIE relied on the pilot and not the pilot reling on the machine and, in Hunter One's eyes, it made better starfighter pilots. While Hunter One had to give a Rebel fighter jock his credit when due, when a veteran TIE pilot went down, you knew they were a good fighter pilot, not an average pilot whose shields had ran out of energy.

Despite having shields himself---as did all of the TIE series craft of the Coruscant Aces---Hunter One knew he had earned them, because he had survived two hellish years as a TIE Pilot for the Empire and had become an ace in his own right, as had his whole then Imperial TIE Squadron, who all now followed him away from Port Haven.

So, for the Imperial Ace turned mercenary, the sight of several Imperial warships didn't bother him. Instead, he went about his business, knowing that if they could outrun their Imperial counterparts, they had a fighting chance in the rear where they could hide among the gas nebula that hung roughly 10 minutes away. The trick, as always, would be getting there.

"Hunter One to Squadron," he said through his assisted breathing, "Hold course. Attack pattern Alpha-Delta. Hold fire."

Double clicks responded across the encrypted squadron comlink as the rogue TIEs and Star Wing spread out in a elongated modified bent flying wing, with the Star Wing holding a center rear and above the wing spot. Hunter One lead the "tip" of the flying wing, with one shielded TIE Fighter and one TIE Advanced x1 on port and starboard flanks respectfully. From there, to either side, were 2 shielded TIE Interceptors on either side and one TIE Advanced x1 on either side of those Interceptors, each fighter-class abet bent backwards from their wing-man. The last two shielded TIE Fighters took up belly positions under the flying wing, each under a pair of Interceptors.



With all of his squadron under shields, their engines and power plants upgraded to their maximum amounts, communications and sensors upgraded, and his TIE Fighters and TIE Interceptors equipped with either homing concussion missiles or advanced concussion missile (per mission profile; his TIE Advanced x1's were equipped with advanced homing cluster missiles) and the TIE Advanced x1's and Interceptors equipped with hyperdrives. Furthermore, any sensor pings would reveal vastly different transponder codes attached to each fighter and Star Wing, making the tracking of the TIEs and Star Wing to ownership impossible. Furthermore, all the TIEs an Star Wing were each equipped with a IFF Confuser, which while a one-time use weapon per each craft, could give a temporary advantage in a pitched battle or to mask an retreat. Hunter One knew his TIE squadron and Star Wing were more then a match for anything the Empire could throw at them, at least for a few minutes before they realized general TIE Fighters wouldn't do the job.

Despite the attack formation, Hunter One wasn't planning on fighting or running to the nebula. He had very different plans. A Vigil-class Corvette started advancing ahead of the main Imperial formation; Hunter One knew better then to joke around with a Vigil. They were deadly little buggers with enough firepower and starfighter support to give anyone a bad day. They were, in Hunter One's eyes, one of the best ships in the Imperial Navy. Quick, armed, and well-equipped.

As the Vigil Captain's orders came across for identification, Hunter One did a solid long click over the encrypted comm channel to his squadron: do not respond.


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


IC: Commodore Christoper "Raptor" Vincent
Bridge, Hunter, heavily modified Gladiator-class Star Destroyer, hyperspace


"Tell me again," Vincent said lazily from his command chair to the Imperial Navy Captain now standing beside his command chair with a Imperial Naval Commander brown noser slightly behind the captain taking notes on a data-pad, "How does this all work?"

The Imperial Naval Captain---a in shape, build for the navy person, with a strong naval tradition and family---sighed, "Must we go over this again, Commodore Vincent?"

"Raptor, please," Vincent replied with a smug smile.


"Oh yes," the Imperial Captain replied with strained patience, "I forgot your title of self-importance."

Vincent smiled, "Funny. But remember your place, Captain."

"And it would be good to remember yours, Commodore," the Captain replied shortly, adding a forced smile, "Now, to your question with how this 'all works'. There is loyalty and there is loyalty."

"Ah, yes," Raptor replied, "The reply of traitors."

The Captain smiled thinly, "If it wasn't for your assumed value by the Investigator, I would have you spaced from the air locks for such a statement."

"Yes," the Captain said with a air of waiting as the bridge blast doors opened and a struggling woman was dragged in by two white-armored stormtroopers; Vincent spun his chair around, snapping upwards with a hand on his blaster. But the brown noser Commander already had a blaster to his head; sneaky little pencil thin paper pusher wasn't he? When Vincent took this ship under his command, he would be sure to kill the Commander first. Normally, his bridge crew would be up in arms, but the full squad of white armored stormtroopers around the bridge with E-11 blasters already pointed at the crew made such a course of action undesirable.

"If you harm her, I swear I will kill you with my bare hands!" Vincent breathed death through clenched teeth.

"Don't make threats you can't keep, Commodore," the captain said, "It makes you out to be a lair. I just wanted to remind you of your place in this little agreement of ours between you, us, and the Investigator. It would be...unfortunate if you forgot the details of our contract."




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


IC: Commodore Norris (temporarily using for one post)
Vindicator-class command ship, Cimmerian, Imperial Blockade fleet



As the holo faded of the Imperial Captain from the mysterious Gladiator-class Star Destroyer that had someone slipped past the Imperial interdictor April Dancer---although the recently supplied ISB codes told Norris how now---the Commodore took a threatening glance out the bridge side-window towards the Gladiator-class Star Destroyer that now collected the TIEs and Star Wing from Port Haven. Soon, the Gladiator would be gone. Personally, Norris would of liked a little suspense and mystery with that out-dated Gladiator, but sadly, it was just another one of the ISB's many abuses of Imperial wealth and power.

"Sithing ISB," Norris bit out under his breath. But, if he wanted that promotion to Admiral, he better allow the ISB their unlimited reign of power within the military or he would be sitting at Captain the rest of career once they made a note of it in his file. If he had been able to reach the Emperor's Hand planet-side on Port Haven that had brought him and his ship here, Norris might of had some serious muscle to question why the ISB were interrupting his mission and why they were utilizing a ship far bigger then they usually do and at that, a disregarded underpowered Gladiator-class Star Destroyer that were, for the most part, considered crap in the modern Imperial Navy that rarely used the ships anymore. But, Norris concluded fairly, the sensor scans of that Gladiator showed an impressive display of updated weaponry, not to mention some questionable additions that sensors weren't quite able to identify clearly. In its current state, that Gladiator was the example of ISB wealth and power. And even Norris had to admit, he wanted a joy ride in it.

Walking back to his waiting ship commanders' holograms, he said, "Status of deployment?"

Captain Green responded crisply, "Fifty percent sir. Its taking the escort carriers some time to travel the distance of the planet into position. But the heavy cruisers are ready at the poles, Commodore."

Norris nodded, "Understood. Wait on deployment of ground forces until we hear from the Emperor's Hand."

"Yes, Commodore," Green responded and his imagine faded as he snapped to attention and bowed.

Norris turned to communications, "Anything?"

"Nothing, Commodore," the communications officer responded.

"Keep trying. She has to be out there, somewhere."



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


IC: Mara Jade
Emperor's Hand, Port Haven


Her muddied hand gripped into the wet stone along the canyon as she pulled her bruised body up onto a cliff side outcropping overlooking the freezing water below. Despite the jungle heat, Mara could feel a coldness to the wind as the night stretched on.

And could sense through the Force the animals closing in as they smelled the blood from her wounds.

While the Emperor's Hand had appreciated the mysterious bounty hunter's offer at giving her her lightsaber back to survive the night, the Emperor's wraith at her failure was almost more desirable then waiting to be killed off by a pack of blood-thirst animals on a Force-forsaken backwater planet at the moment. While, at the moment, she was safe from almost any animal save a giant flesh eating bird since the canyon descended below by 50 meters and almost twice that overhead, Mara wasn't as schooled in Port Haven native animal life as she should of been. A course, looking back 20/20, she wasn't expecting to face a skilled bounty hunter either and find herself at the bottom of a canyon fighting for her life.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, drawing on her training to Force Heal some of her wounds, when she heard a crackle from her ear-piece comlink. Her eyes shot awake as she focused on the, at first, barely audible voice. But, it cleared up just enough for her to hear the words.

"...and...cruiser...Cimmerian...u...copy?"

Mara smiled; so maybe she would have a rematch with that bounty hunter after all.

"Cimmerian, this is Jade. I copy. Trace this signal back to find my location. I need a med-pack and a pick-up. Deploy your ground forces only, Cimmerian, at Port Haven. Leave the rest of the ground forces in reserve in orbit until called upon. Hook up with Stormtrooper units at Port Haven, secure the town, and await my arrival. And tell Commodore Norris, thank you."



TAG Sith-I-5 and Bardan_Jusik (if needed; Bravo post following)

 

OOC: I'm retconning slightly, one of Bravo's ground posts.

IC: Lieutenant Seventy-Nine (ZTA-6479), Sergeant Maria Van Helsing (MVH-1001), Port Haven settlement
Location: Port Haven, Whendyll System


The stormtrooper lieutenant was having words with one of the AT-ST gunners while the vehicle stood at the South end of the Alleyway, guns pointing towards the central part of the settlement.

"You said to target the buildings on either side of the Super Battle Droids, Sir."

"Except the hotel!" Seventy-Nine insisted.

"I didn't hear that, Sir."

"So where in Flamewind are we supposed to sleep tonight?"

"Lieutenant?" The second vehicle operator piped up. "We got a call coming in from Cimmerian."

"What a stupid name for a ship. Sounds like a breakfast cereal." Seventy-Nine groused. "Alright, put 'em through. On speaker."

"Sir."

"Ground One from Cimmerian. "

"Ground One copy."

"Well done on your progress. We have made contact with the Emperor's Hand. Her signal puts her in a ravine about seven klicks north of the Octagon. She requests pick-up and a medpac. We are prepping a retrieval team, but see if you can get someone to her first."

Seventy-Nine acknowledged, already mentally tasking his squad's monster hunter, to deal with it. "Understood."

"Also, be advised, an Imperial VIP calling himself the 'The Special One', is being allowed through the blockade, and is expected to make planetfall near your location."

Seventy-Nine rolled his eyes under his helmet. "The Special One. Copy. " Emperor's Hand. The Special One. Who chooses these names? As an afterthought, he asked, "Hey, what happened with those TIEs that strafed my men?"

"Regretfully, we had to let them go, Ground One. They had ISB bona fides. "

"What the hell did they attack us for?"

"Drokk only knows. Cimmerian out. "

The lieutenant signalled the ground-to-space communication to be cut, and put his hand to the side of his helmet to help with the local call. "Seventy-Nine to Maria. You there, Doll?"

* * * *
Jungle - South East of Settlement

Maria had lost track of the other speeder bike as she sat pillion behind the biker scout that had picked her up, left arm hugging his torso, while the right held her helmet to help Seventy-Nine's message to come through.

She hugged the scout with her right arm, brought her left hand back and tapped the scout sharply on his hard-white shoulder pad, indicating that he should turn left and around.

The greenery - they were well clear of the forest fire - blurred to the right as the 74-Z speeder bike nosed round to the left, towards the North again, accelerating through a curtain of downward hanging vines.

Maria was aware of the view kaleidoscoping around her before she slammed heavily into the bole of a tree, upside down on the forest floor, her legs up against the bark.

Through blurred vision, before it went dark, she caught sight of the scout, and his ride suspended like marionettes from thin but clearly strong liannas hanging from the Tree Fisher secured in the tree canopy above.

Tag: Bravo, Bardan

OOC: The previous carnivourous plant I showed, was done before finding out that there really were supposed to be similar plants on Port Haven! A lucky coincidence.

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Port Haven (evening, around 7:30pm)


Jason slapped at the blood sucking insect on his neck, crushing the small body against his sweaty neck and wiping the bug guts off of his body and shaking his hand off in the wind as he knelt against a tree, putting his left arm up in a closed fist position. Hallomar came up through the jungle undergrowth from behind Jason quietly, his eyes piecing through the darkness in Lasso's same direction.

"You smell that too?" Hallomar asked, sniffing the air.

Lasso shook his head, "No, more sensed it through the Force. 5 clicks South East of us."

"Good try," Hallomar said, "A lot closer. Maybe 1 click at best. Your Jedi abilities need some training, son."

"Your the hunter," Jason replied.

"And your the Jedi I hear from everyone here," Hallomar replied.

"Point taken," Jason replied, adding, "Who do you think---" Jason turned to look to Hallomar and the man was gone.

Hallomar was looking through his high powered night-vision equipped scope from a different angle and completely gone from Jason's vision as the mercenary captain had looked around for him, catching him finally a few meters away and noticed how the Port Haven owner had traveled completely quietly; soon the hunter-owner came back and whispered, "A Mando and a Devaronian friends of yours?"

Lasso nodded, "Yea."

"Good. Because I lost track of the Mando. The man knew he was being tracked by me before I put a scope on him. Smart little fella."

"Yea..." Jason breathed, "I count my lucky stars everyday he's on my side and not the enemy's."


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

Ten minutes later...


Hallomar came back with two of his guards and Mr. Biggs in tow, "Nothing," the owner said of securing the perimeter and leaving four other of his guards on sentry duty some distance from the meet in the dense forest, "I walked it and secured it myself. Had some extra home-made trip wire left in my pockets from my last hunt. If anything gets within 50 meters of us, we'll know about it when my wrist sensor starts blinking here. My guards aren't the best shots, but they're not the worst either. Their up in the trees with their rifles keeping silent watch."

Lasso nodded from where he sat on a log, a holo-map displayed in thin air between him, Taab, Major Totter, Zhoul, and another one of Hallomar's security force guards, "Good. Take a seat."

Hallomar nodded, signaling the other two guards to go secure the rear from where Taab and Zhoul had come from, while he and Mr. Biggs took a seat or stood like everyone else around the floating map on the jungle floor.

"Our mission objectives are simple," Lasso said as he scanned the group in the darkness, the holo map illuminating everyone's faces, "First, find a way to covertly communicate with the Jod Destroyer and alert them and any Mercs coming from Skip One. Second, get fuel for our shuttle. Third, get the hell off this rock before more Imperial arrive. As to how we achieve those objectives," Lasso said, indicating a red highlighted replica of Port Haven near the cost, "This is Port Haven, currently under Imperial Stormtrooper control with AT-STs in support. And this is," Jason moved his finger across to a gold pointing downward arrow South East of the town, "us."

Jason expanded the map to see a larger portion of the world, in specific this continent with a mountain range due East of the settlement, a canyon between the mountain range and Port Haven that snaked with a river through the jungle the full length of the map (running North of the Octagon), and disappearing in both extreme ends of the maps. To the West of Port Haven was all open ocean and a cost line running the length of it by Port Haven. Beyond the mountain range to the East were several hills, lakes, and even a smaller river snaking from the mountain range towards the East and off the map. To the North, South, and South West of the map beyond Port Haven was all jungle and similar hills as to the East beyond the mountains. To the extreme South-East corner of the map was a small bay area with a miniature settlement there that had a blue arrow pointing down on it. Jason pointed at the smaller town on the cost line, "And this is our next stop," Jason looked towards Hallomar, "I do believe this is your field of knowledge."

Hallomar nodded, "Indeed it is. While I would like to hold to the fancy that Port Haven is alone here, any such prospect would be foolish, especially with the smuggling traffic we get here. We're not an Imperial Garrison, so we don't have the resources to detect every incoming ship---or smuggler meet up with contracts to off-load cargo. Or crashed starships for that matter. And you have the native wildlife. While no sentience life exists on Port Haven's world to my knowledge, that doesn't mean its not here. But this settlement is one of several scattered across the planet. We call them the Tree People. Some say their natives...others say their refugees from a crashed ship or left-overs from the failed Salliche colony that once called Port Haven home. Either way, there's evidence to support they were at once most advanced or at least inherited more advanced starship or other technology from downed smuggler ships from across the world; crashed starship debris make up a good portion of their settlement, which, as their names suggests, is in the trees high above the ground. The starship debris may have enough parts left to make an operational communication device if need be.

"Their lowest structures are by the bay itself, where they have fishing. They're a proud group of sea-going people, so if we need a plan of escape, it'll would be them. And they'll be our best chance for a ride. They have trading boats that journey as far down as the mountain range down the river here to trade with Port Haven. We might be able to catch one of their trading boats and get a ride from them. It'll be our best bet until we know how to get fuel to your shuttle and off this planet."

"However," Jason pointed out, "If the Imperials are sending in more forces, then that settlement will be one of the first places they look for us or for any other reasons why they are here. So it'll be a race against time. But, I'm thinking about something else. We let the Imperials do the expected, attack the settlement, and we move in afterwards. If the Empire is setting up any kind of monitoring station or other somewhat stable presence here, they'll probably leave a few troopers behind for security until the world is declared clear. We go in, pick off the few Imperials, get their supplies, equipment, and communications equipment, and we have a tap-in on their comms and a better fighting chance."

"Isn't that a little cold hearted?" Hallomar said, "Leaving those people to die while we reap the benefits afterwards from their dead bodies."

"There's about a dozen of us and even against just a platoon of stormtroopers, we have slim chances. If the Empire lands additional forces---"

"---Too late," Major Totter cut in as the unmistakable wine of TIE Fighters flew overhead with Star Wings and Scout variations of TIEs, all escorting a Imperial Transport, F-120 Landing Craft, Imperial Loader Shuttle, and a Sentinel-class landing craft. "One of many more. Many, many more..."

Lasso kept his stare on the craft above, noting their direction of travel to Port Haven and the few drips of water that fell from some of the drop-ships, "They must have already deployed some sea-craft," he said as he looked back to the group.

"Well, there may be another way," Biggs piped in sheepishly as the roar of the landing force vanished off into the distance towards Port Haven.

"There is?" Hallomar asked.

Biggs replied, "Well you see good mate, I wasn't always a honest mercenary folk. Did some piracy I did in my youth. And, as long as no one had yet to disturb it, there should be a ole rebuild Seacropper Submerisible hidden in one of the shallow river caves in that mountain range. You see, there's an underground river that runs straight to the ocean from there. Been a decade or so since me last seeing her, but assuming the Seacropper is still there, she'll have plenty of weapons and equipment. She's a fine girl she is, upgraded with some heavy weaponry."

"And you used her for what if you were a space pirate?" Hallomar asked.

"Ya see dear sir, we pirates had our little treasure deposits in-case, ya' know, a mutiny on ship should occur. That way, every mate got their share in the end if we decided the captain wasn't worth keeping. And it provided access to our hidden base."

"Your hidden base?!" Totter asked.

"Opps," Biggs said, "Wasn't meaning to say that much."

"Is this base still around?" Hallomar asked.

"The base?" Biggs asked, "Oh yes. But, for me space pirate fellows, I don't know. The base be an island off the cost where we hide our gold. The natives are a bit cranky, but once they get to know you, they'll stop thinking of you as their next meal. Maybe."

"Cheerful" Jason said in response,adding , "the base may have a long range communications and sensor system. We could get hold of the Jod Destroyer and get a Jod Fleet here."

"A signal past all of those Imperial ships?" Hallomar asked, "Wishful thinking son! They'll spot it in a heart-beat!"

"Not if we get to that tree settlement first," Jason countered, "We'll get hold of their ground comms network, find an Imperial officer with enough clearance to contact ships in orbit, and get their communication codes. We hide a message in their own communication network. And, hopefully, we'll be able to alert any Mercs from Skip One coming this way so they don't get blasted by Imperial forces."

"We have a long walk to that mountain range," Zhoul commented, "The more we sit here and talk, the more time we loose."

Lasso nodded, shutting off the holo map and tossing the small device back to Hallomar, "Zhoul is right. It'll take some time for the Imperials to deploy any organized scouting parties. We'll head towards the Mountain Range," Lasso looked off into the distance towards the dark shapes, "Roughly 15 clicks give or take."

Hallomar nodded approvingly, "Getting better."

"That wasn't the Force," Lasso commented, "That was a wild guess."

"Its closer to 16 clicks, but either way, really close," the Port Haven owner commented.

Jason got up and looked towards Taab, "Get a data-burst to the Luck's Gamble and inform them of our delay and to sit tight until they hear from us. No direction, no location. I don't want the message to be intercepted and us be picked up by Imperials. And you'll have to tell me the story about that red haired woman. Everyone else, we stay together until the Mountain Range due East. Then we split, half with the sub and the pirate base, the other half towards that settlement. We need to cover all of our bases the best way we can. Hallomar, don't forget our guards and your trip wire. Okay, lets move out!"


TAG Bardan_Jusik and Sith-I-5 and any others arriving at Port Haven
OOG: Jusik, you may post us arriving at that canyon or at the mountain range. Your choice.

 

IC: Rav Cater (Sal Brooks) and Dom (both NPCs)
Mercs' hanger berth, Skip One


“Brooks, get your fighter ready. We leave in half an hour. I’m just finishing up final preps now,” she turned her attention to the ryn. “I’m Kasha Sherland, Flight Lieutenant of the Mercs, are you interested in signing up?”

Sal raised an eyebrow as he stood up, putting his book away, "Fighter? Your freighter there is my ride," Sal said, "Just saying. No fighter available that this poor soul could afford."

"Interested in signing up?" Dom asked after Brooks had spoken, "I believe I already did with a gentlemen named Chris Streets. A Chiss of your group, correct? But yes, I am here for your services and, like Sal here, a ride aboard your freighter. I'm afraid a starfighter and I would not get along very well."


TAG JediFalcon and kommando104

 

OOC: The Gibbons and Tozzi npcs are directly based on author Anthony Bruno's creations, FBI agents, Cuthbert Gibbons and Mike Tozzi.

IC: Gibbons and Tozzi (Imperial Intelligence analysts), Benny (BNY-1114) and Sergeant Twenty-One (DLT-5921), Mekuun Hoverscout interior, clifftop West of Jungle, respectively.
Location: Port Haven, Whendyll System


The two Imperial Intelligence analysts assigned to the Kingdom of Jod / Mercs investigation by the Chief Magistrate of Malastare, were the veteran and formerly retired agent Gibbons, a wiry, grey-haired human male who had been called out of retirement years ago when his former partner, the younger, dark haired Mike Tozzi, had stopped filing reports whilst working deep cover.

It had been an assassination job in all but name, but Gibbons had brought his hot-dog partner back into the fold.

Still, as Gibbons sat in his bucket chair within the Hoverscout that the investigation was being run out off, itself inside the Intelligence Sentinel-class landing craft, Mor Deeta, watching his partner playing with the receipt from a Malastare branch of Younglings R' Us, he wondered not for the first time, if he should have just ignored Tozzi's hurt expression, and pulled the trigger.

"You are going to get him drokking killed."

Mike looked over with that childish grin of his. "Relax, its just a prank."

"There are pranks, and then there is attempted murder. Seriously, even with the Emperor's backing, she will have spent a good deal of effort trying to get Navy commanders not to patronise her, and treat her like a little girl. Don't tell someone to take her a present."

"What's the worst that could happen? He's got those two lightsabres if things go awry;" Tozzi pointed out, "while she reportedly has just the one."

* * * *
Jungle, West of Alleyway

The stormtrooper and the seatrooper picking their way through the post-firestorm and now smoke-wreathed jungle, were in pursuit of the flitting blue alien that had passed them in an attempt to escape the cleanup South of the Octagon, braving the flames.

Twenty-One looked back at the Benny, who was the last member of the small Monster Squad, though he was a relatively new member.

Previously, the spot had been held by perpetual jokester, BTA-0113, or Beta. But against logic and odds, he had somehow gotten himself a gig as one of the Emperor's Royal Guards.

Seventy-Nine had backed his man's application, but no-one had thought he had a snowflakes' chance in Flamewind of getting in.

So Benny, a seatrooper stationed aboard their VicStar, Wraithis, had stepped into the vacant spot.

"Thanks for saving me, by the way." Twenty-One remembered, stepping gingerly among charcoaled roots, his boots sinking into the ash that the ground had become. "Back there."

"No problem." Benny stopped and used the larger macro-binocular visor of his helmet to look around. "I've lost her."

"Yeah, me too."

Benny pointed off into the darkness. "Though the sea's that way."

The non-com said nothing. Like Corellians claimed they could not get lost, so seatroopers always seemed to know where the nearest ocean was, even without navigational aids.
Instead, he looked up, scanning the tops of the trees that they were striding through.

"What are you looking for?"

"Maria said the plants were active. I'm not sure what she meant, but I'm not keen to be walking through here."

"Maybe they turn to face you as walk past them."

"Why would she bother telling us about that? Actually, you know what, I'll just ask her." He pressed the side of his helmet, trying to make contact with his counterpart.
"Mm. Cannot get through; there was no indication that the trees could block signals, were there?"

"Nope." Benny walked ahead, scanning the trees for some sign of their quarry, while coloured measurements and numbers scrolled up or across his helmet's display. "Hello. We've got company. Something landing up ahead. Come on!"

He ran on ahead, crunching through the charred underbrush, bursting out into the open onto a windswept bluff overlooking the beach, where he could see the ventral fins of a Sentinel-class landing craft settling down behind an already parked V-Wing.

Further on, a white V-19 Torrent with Imperial markings was also settling onto the beach.

BNY-1114 switched his visor to infra-red, and could see that of the three parked vessels, only the V-Wing's engines were cold. It had not just landed, but been there a little while.

He half-turned as Twenty-One trotted up behind him.

"Unable to contact Maria, and the Lieutenant cannot raise her either."

"We going after her? Or can I have my swim now?"

Twenty-One shook his head. "Neither, and not just cos its fething night-time. We don't get out of damsel rescuing just yet. The Emperor's Hand is requesting pickup from the bottom of a ravine about seven klicks north of that Hexagon arena."

Benny paused, looking at his fellow trooper. "You mean the Octagon...oh, I see what you did there. It was the Octagon, but now its only got six sides. After we walked AT-STs through the other two. Ho-ho...don't give up your day job." He pretended to falter when his friend punched him reproachfully in the arm-plate.

The sound of fluidics floated up from the beach, drawing Benny's attention to what was going on, down at the beach.
The shuttle had put down a broad vehicular ramp, and a Mekuun Hoverscout was reversing down the ramp, the inflated skirts billowing a layer of sand out into the surf.

"Now that looks useful. Let's go see if we can borrow it." The seatrooper stepped to the edge and looked to see if he could see a way down. "Gonna be a bit of a trek, otherwise."

"Suppose they do not want to lend it to us?"

"I say we make dem!" Benny wheedled in a determined tone.

DLT-5921 walked after his friend, arms akimbo to keep his balance along the top of the cliff. "You sound really creepy when you say things like that. 'Specially at night time."

To be continued...

 

IC: Captains Yavscout and Palso, Sergeant Vestor, Delicate Delinquent.
Location: Hyperspace, two hours out of Port Haven


There were celebrations far below, on the floor of the huge bow compartment, as Yav allowed Palso's astromech, Bugger, to ferry him to relative safety on the fourth level platform, where Vestor, the Jod non-com, was reeling in his safety synthrope.

Even with Levitate, which he had had to top up several times during the fingertip search of the ceiling piping, the elf was glad to get something solid under his boots.

Vestor leaned over the railings when Yav was close enough, to grasp hold of his harness, and help Yavscout to climb over the chipped yellow metal, where he sank, shaking with expended adrenalin, to the slatted metal floor.

"Easy there." The sergeant followed him down, and dropped to one knee. He started to unsnap the locks and latches that had held the elf secure.

"I will be fine." Yav sighed. "So Palso found the locator beacon, did he?"

Vestor nodded as he fussed round his friend, gently pulling the fabric harness along his arms. "Yep. Hero of the hour."

Both men listened to the cheers and clapping wafting up from below. "I'll have to buy the man a pint of something at the Haven's Water, then. It's a bar on Port Haven, though I don't recall if I have been there."

"You ready to stand up, or you want to rest a bit more?"

"Think I will rest a few more moments, if that is okay." Yav inhaled deeply.

"Well, it is your ship. If you wanted to sleep there, I would have someone bring you a blanket." Vestor looked up past Yav's head and noticed the polished dome of the astromech still floating on the other side of the railings. "Good job, you. Better save fuel, and head down to terra firma."

The droid bleeped and dropped out of sight.

"You ready for crew updates, Captain?"

There was clang of metal on metal from deeper in the platform, and a cry of apology.

Vestor looked that way. "Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Get your Merc down out of the pipes. We have found what we are looking for."

"Oh, what? When?"

"Captain Palso found it in one of the pipe emergency hatches a few moments ago. Can't you hear the cheering?"

Yavscout closed his eyes and endured the pain from his body. His arms felt like durasteel hawsers, the muscles taut with the physical exercise of clambering over thick but slippery pipes, with a vertiginous drop underneath.
He could relieve the symptoms with a Heal, but having worked and sweated alongside these souls, Kingdom of Jod, Mercs, Rescuees, for a common purpose, he didn't want to take the easy way out, just yet.

He managed to tap the sergeant on the arm. "You mentioned 'crew updates'?"

"Yeah. Lieutenant Zotoman called. He is one of the liaison guys off the Authority. He and some of our trainers have certified enough gunners for our quad lasers, and then some. Next time we have a battle alert, we should be able to manage a more robust defense."

"Anti-starfighter, at least." Yav permitted himself a small smile. At last, things were falling into place. "Tell him, good job. I will make a point to do that, later."

"Also, as we are now two standard hours out of Port Haven, Chief Williams has called together the senior engineers and techs to discuss how to install the big weapon your SGIS buddies have for us."

Yav glared up. "I told them to get some sleep. They will be no good to us, if they are falling asleep at their posts!"

"The Senior staff got two to three hours, Yav. They won't be fresh, but they will be better than they were. Normal tech staff are still sleeping, so they will be better."

"Stand down everyone involved in the search. Palso is responsible for getting rid off the beacon." Yav leaned his head back against one of the safety bars. "This Go Team suit is comfortable enough; think I will just rest here."

Vestor leaned back, and started issuing instructions via his wrist-communicator. "Search Team personnel, great job, great job. Stand down and get what sleep you can. Captain Palso, Captain Yavscout sends his congratulations, and commends you on a job well done. Your responsibility to get rid of the beacon, then get some rest also. Also, can someone get me a blanket up here on the double. Vestor out."

Tag: Palso

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hanger bay Skip One Smugglers Run

Sal raised an eyebrow as he stood up, putting his book away, "Fighter? Your freighter there is my ride," Sal said, "Just saying. No fighter available that this poor soul could afford."

"Interested in signing up?" Dom asked after Brooks had spoken, "I believe I already did with a gentlemen named Chris Streets. A Chiss of your group, correct? But yes, I am here for your services and, like Sal here, a ride aboard your freighter. I'm afraid a starfighter and I would not get along very well."

"Yes, Chris Streets is a part of the command staff," Fress gave a nod to the Ryn she was curious as to how he would fit into the crew. She still didn’t trust Brooks as far as she could throw him. “I’m sure there will be room for the both of you,” she glanced at the Ryn with a frown trying to read him but he nearly was making it difficult. “I have a feeling I know how you’re going to fit into this crew. Would you mind talking with me for a minute in private? I need to ask you something.”

Bravo

 

IC: Captain Ool-Re-Kospi (npc), Skip One spaceport launderette, Wash of Ages

The reptilian captain had made it through the field of asteroids, but at some personal sartorial cost.

Standing in just an impressively large floral bath towel, which was being held up by one clawed hand and a gun-belt, he listened as the droid running the laundrette ran through the short list of options.

"Standard staniclean is ten credits, Captain Kospi. Takes about thirty Standard Minutes. Most beings go for that. The 'Navigated the Skips in a Blind Panic' Super Scrub is thirty credits, and takes a Standard Hour. Creasings and pressings are included in the prices and the times."

"Oh, definitely the 'Blind Panic', please." His green and black striped tail swished slowly below and behind him, just above the rough wooden floor.

"That will be thirty credits then, Captain."

The Tiss'shar paid the monies, then promised to be back for his soiled flightsuit, handing the thick plasto across to the droid, then, following its directions across the landing field to the nearest outfitters, passed by a group of soft-skin humans, and a feathered biped.

"-Sherland, Flight Lieutenant of the Mercs, are you interested in signing up?"

Kospi continued on a few more steps, then stopped, staring down at the cracked ferrocrete as his mind processed what he had just heard. "No way."

"Fighter? Your freighter there is my ride. Just saying. No fighter available that this poor soul could afford"

"Interested in signing up?" The Ryn asked after one human had spoken, "I believe I already did with a gentlemen named Chris Streets. A Chiss of your group, correct? But yes, I am here for your services and, like Sal here, a ride aboard your freighter. I'm afraid a starfighter and I would not get along very well."

The Tissh'shar accepted that. He assumed the feathers would get in the way.

"Yes, Chris Streets is a part of the command staff," The human who seemed to be in charge nodded to the feather one. "I’m sure there will be room for the both of you, I have a feeling I know how you’re going to fit into this crew. Would you mind talking with me for a minute in private? I need to ask you something."

Kospi approached and stood some metres short of the group, and looked down at them from his prehensile, thickly muscles neck. "Did I hear right? Are you the Mercs? Could you use a fast ship and a good blaster?" Aware that he could be standing before Smugglers Run' glitterati in what amounted to a fluffy sari, he was quick to reassure, "I am Captain Ool-Re-Kospi of the Snow White. I may not look like much, but I have it wear it counts, Kids. I'm just between flightsuits at the moment."

Tag: Fress, Cain Varss, Sal Brooks / Ryn

 

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

Cain's Z-95 had finished all the pre-flight checks and the old girl was ready go, and so was Cain. Cain gazed across the hanger back to where he had seen Sal and the Ryn standing earlier. He saw Fress approach. Maybe we are almost ready to head out. She engaged the two beings in conversation not appearing to be worried about the newcomer. Newcomer...I'm a newcomer. Who am I to be labeling him that. For all I know the Ryn is part of their staff.

Then something else caught Cain's eye. A reptile, a species he was unfamiliar with, was walking near the group. Not toward them, but in that direction on a course to pass them. The being had caught Cain's eye from the bright floral patterned towel around him. The being passed by but stopped suddenly and turned to talk. The newer newcomer definitely wasn't part of the Merc staff judging by the sudden reaction. Cain wasn't sure what, but something about the group standing there had caught this reptile's attention. Cain evaluated the situation. I don't know the Ryn, but Fress did not seem too bothered by his presence from what I observed, though he could still potentially be a threat. This reptile is another unknown and potential threat, and Sal would fall into the potential threat category as well at the moment. I should head over and give her some back up just in case, though I doubt a Jedi would need it.

Cain pulled off his pilot helmet and placed it on the dash in front of him then got out of the cockpit, pulling the EE-3 out of the new makeshift ejection seat holster. He threw carbine over his shoulder onto his back with the strap over his right shoulder. The look was innocuous enough, especially for places like this, but he could easily move the carbine under his left armpit in case the need arose to use the blaster, a feat made easier by the folded stock.

Cain jumped down from the top rung of the ladder that led up to his cockpit and made his way over to the group positioning himself so he was behind the lizard at least a couple meters, putting some five meters between him and Fress and stopped catching the last part of what the reptile had said.

"...between flightsuits at the moment."

Cain hooked his left thumb around the blaster strap making a small crook in his left elbow. "I would hope you were between flightsuits, that color doesn't suit you well," Cain said to the reptile with a smirk, and then shifted his attention Fress, trying to stay casual. "My fighter is ready to go ma'am. He isn't trying to sell you a used ship is he?" said Cain, indicating the reptile.

Tag: Bravo, JediFalcon, Sith-I-5

 

IC: Kasumi
Hangar Bay

Kasumi had remained quiet the entire time there. Places like this made her feel, shall we say a bit uncomfortable. Luckily she was one of the few that were "dead" according to records and as far as she knew no one was out looking for her. However, people who knew about Fress, worried her a bit. Kasumi had made a promise to help Fress get back to her son, and that was the least she could do. Unfortunately, with Alderaan destroyed, there was little more that she could to do help Fress return home. She did have the images of the planet, and some pictures that her family had sent her, so she would be happy to share those.

She heard Buddy whistle that things were ready and she just nodded silently. Buddy knew she was till hurting, but Kasumi had to do what had to be done. Complete the mission, and move forward with her promise to train those who wanted to complete their training. And it was that that she looked forward to once this was done. For now, she just wanted for the signal to get things up and moving.

Tag: Fress et al

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hanger bay Skip One Smugglers Run

"Did I hear right? Are you the Mercs? Could you use a fast ship and a good blaster?" Aware that he could be standing before Smugglers Run' glitterati in what amounted to a fluffy sari, he was quick to reassure, "I am Captain Ool-Re-Kospi of the Snow White. I may not look like much, but I have it wear it counts, Kids. I'm just between flightsuits at the moment."

"I would hope you were between flightsuits, that color doesn't suit you well," Cain said to the reptile with a smirk, and then shifted his attention Fress, trying to stay casual. "My fighter is ready to go ma'am. He isn't trying to sell you a used ship is he?"

Fress nodded with a slight smile as Cain. “Good to know you’re ready to go and no he’s not trying to sell me a used ship. He wants to join and I believe he means his flight suit is being cleaned,” she turned her attention to Kospi as she sent off a quick note to Atin.

//Do a background check on Captain Ool-Re-Kospi//

“Captain, tell me about yourself and how well can you handle a fighter?” Fress questioned with a frown. She handed over an application. “Here’s an application you need to fill out.”

kommando104, Bravo, Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Maya Whitelight
Hanger bay Skip One Smugglers Run

Giving a side way glance at her pet Hunter that was now finally back under her control. Taking in a few deep breaths, if she would know there would be other pets that look like a furry ball to play with. It wasn't the first time this had happen as Seira Trasks, running into her brought back one of those memorizes. Knowing more then anything what her mother taught her how to calm down. Only this time there was something that waved throw her way. To the point that she had to stop in her track. There it was in the force knowing to put up her guard not knowing who or what was causing this uneasy. At once she new that a good thing to send her father hire gun back to the ship. Coming back into the hanger bay feeling the heighten as if a lot of those came in was about to depart. It was her own empathy feeling that it was sense of urgent. It wasn't her business of what was taking place unless it had something to do with the Run, in her mind playing out was it some how in danger from the imperials. Beside she need to get to where Seira had been going to.

Tag: @kommando104, @Bravo, @Sith-I-5, @Bardan_Jusik, JediFalcon

 

IC: Twenty-One (DLT-5921), Benny (BNY-1114), Twelve (SG-12), Beach north west of Port Haven settlement, early evening.


The two troopers, one Storm’, one Sea’, had separated so as not to provide a single juicy target as they approached across the sandy beach, and by unspoken agreement, they affixed glowrods to the barrels of their energy weapons.
Benny’s was longer, him being the sniper.

Both homed in on the illuminated capital T that floated above the Hoverscout’s silhouette, then, close enough to bring up their lights, found them bathing the silver-armoured Saber Guard.

“Fancy.” Twenty-One, who had never seen a Saber Guard before, commented. "This planet is under Imperial Quarantine. Break out some ID." Twenty-One looked at the men in the black and tans of Imperial Intelligence officers, as they emerged from the side hatch of the 15.9m craft to stand to the left of the faceless silver-armoured warrior. "All of you."

Twelve added the identity wallets of his companions to his black card wallet, and Force Floated them down to the stormtrooper, who snatched them out of the air, then turned them over to orient them.

Twenty-One muttered, then, acutely aware that the Emperor’s Hand was out there alone, and had requested backup, brought the exchange round to her. "Listen, using the authority invested in me by the Hand of the Emperor, I hereby commandeer your speeder to-"

"She’s in trouble isn’t she?" Twelve interrupted, concern evident in his tone.

"Well, apart from ignoring the Three Rs – don’t rappel down a ravine without a rope, we have no details."

"Does not matter. She’s a kid, she’s in distress, we roll. Permission to board, granted." The light from his T-visor bathed Tozzi as he turned that way. "One of you drive, and don’t spare the banthas."

“I’ll drive,” Gibbons insisted, pushing the younger Tozzi out the way to duck into the hatch.

“I’m faster,” Tozzi insisted as he followed his friend inside.

“These aren’t the most stable wave-skimmers this side of the Galactic Centre, Mike; you’d sink us.”

“You don’t know that!”

Twelve pulled the two soldiers onto the metal covering the inflated skirts, and followed them inside the cramped interior, his armour and lightsabres clacking on the fixtures as he turned to close the hatch.

The engines were thrumming as they felt the craft start to move.

More familiar with the cabin, the Saber Guard found his usual seat, and gestured for the local soldiers to join him in the passenger area.
"Agent Gibbons, head north along the beach!" He called ahead to the cockpit.

“Copy that!”

"What are your orders?" He asked Twenty-One, once the two stormies were seated across from him.

"To commandeer your speeder-"

"No, I meant regarding this Port Haven community."

"Oh. Level everything, and kill any beings not wearing Imperial armour."

Benny nodded pointedly at the non-armoured Tozzi, who was by his console, and swivelled to look back at them. “’Sup?”

Tozzi looked away. The seatrooper was likely messing with him, but it did not make him feel any happier about it.

" Well, I am…the Special One. I am here to countermand those orders." The Saber Guard used the Force to add a bit of authority to his words.

"Yeah, that is not gonna happen." Twenty-One then noted the lightsabres on the newcomer’s hips, and aimed the glowrod at them, to draw them to Benny’s attention. "Restricted items. Order 66 violations."

“Order 68-bee.” BNY-1114 countered.

"Do not worry about it if the owner is dressed like an explosion in a chrome factory?"

"Hey!" Twelve snapped testily. "I am sitting right here."

* * * *

Some moments later, Tozzi locked down his screen and ducked under the low ceiling to join his partner up in the cockpit, where the other sweated over the controls, a yellow navigational holograph floating in the air by the his right elbow.

Mike recognised the contours of the coastline, with a diagonal yellow line connecting it to an area inland.

"You know, you hover slowly enough to drive Moff Daisy," Tozzi mocked as he dropped into the second seat. He gestured to the holograph. Where you getting that?"

"Tapped into Cimmerian's ComScan. Their girl probably doesn't know it, but she really is in trouble. Check it out."

The younger Intelligence operative shifted around to get a closer look at the holo. It was not static, but the fissure representing the ravine was throwing off tiny yellow numbers, which after a moment, he realised was counting down. There was also a yellow swirling eddy.

"What is that?"

"The area around the pirate base suffered a seismic shock recently, opened an fissure between ravine and the sea. That place where she is, it's filling with water." Gibbons raised his voice so the passengers could hear him. "Hold onto your hats, Guys! We are turning!"

Both analysts strained to stay in their chairs as the Hoverscout nosed to the right, while drifting to the left as they tried to make a corner that they were navigating by controls, the view outside the cockpit being dark.

The sound of wood scraping along the outside hull could be heard as they continued.

Tag: Mara Jade

 

IC: Atin Taab
Crusader, Skip 1, Smugglers Run.

Atin was going over the Crusader's security system making sure that no one had approached the old ship while they had been on their recruitment run. He also took the time to ensure that the armory and other restricted areas of the ship were locked down an inaccessible to the new recruits. It's not that he didn't trust them, but they were all aruetiise (foreigners can also mean traitors), and buir (father) wouldn't want them to have the run of the ship.

He smiled, placing his bucket on the co-pilot's seat. There were no attempted intrusions of the vessel, though some individuals had come a bit too close for comfort. Atin would be careful to keep an closer eye out now. In the meantime he checked up on Street who was running diagnostics on the Crusader's main guns. Atin knew they would check out, but if they were headed into trouble it was better to be safe than sorry.

Atin was in the process of adjusting the beret on his head when a message came in from Fress. Another background check? Atin was a bit confused by that, they were supposed to be getting ready to move, ride off to the rescue or some such if the jetii (Jedi) was right. Instead he was doing another background check.

He ran the information through the now standard process for him. Ool-Re-Kospi, Captain. He fussed some more with the beret, trying to get it just right but failed. He knew buir would tell him to get a haircut, and he was probably right, but Atin couldn't bring himself to do that. It was his one "rebelious" act against his father.

Information started to come though now on the back ground check. Master of the freighter Green Goblin, further checks found that the ship was fully licensed and even cleared for a pair of laser cannons for defense. There were the appropriate bona fides with the Hapan Consortium as well as the Corporate Sector, so he appeared to be a freighter captain "on the level." Why would he throw in with a bunch of mercenaries then?

That answer came up on the criminal search. he was wanted for questioning in the Corporate Sector, something regarding brigandry. That might explain what he was doing here. Atin felt the man could be useful, but that wasn't his decision. He sent off the data to Fress, along with a note that the Crusader was ready for departure whenever she was. Then he sat back in the pilot's chair and wondered how his father was doing.


TAG: JediFalcon, Mitth_Fisto.

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Jungles of Port Haven, early evening.

While LER and Neb had sought out a safe landing site, Taab and Al'kesh hustled down to the meagerly stocked armory aboard ship. Taab had lost his primary long arm during the fight with the red haired woman, while Al'kesh had only his blaster pistol ( a battered old DL-44). He too would need something with a bit more firepower to deal with the Imperials.

Arriving at the arms locker Taab wasn't surprised to see that it was mostly Imperial style weaponry on board. These weapons were easily available throughout the galaxy. Taab grabbed an E-11 off the rack and handed it to the Devaronian. "You familiar with this?" Al'kesh replied with a nod and a toothy grin as he grabbed a bandolier of spare ammo for the rifle. Taab himself wasn't pleased at the weapons selection. He didn't care for the E-11, which while versatile, lacked accuracy in Taab's mind. It was a weapon manufactured by the lowest bidder, typical Imperial thinking. Taab started to grab one for himself though, beggars couldn't be choosers when he sat "it", back in the corner of the locker.

It was not standard Imperial issue, at least as far as Taab knew, though he wouldn't have bee surprised if it had made inroads with certain units. He reached back and brought out the weapon, fondling it appreciativly. Al'kesh raised an eyebrow at him. "It's a flechette launcher, I used one before to hunt jetii (Jedi)." He didn't mention that his was a smaller wrist mounted device that he had offloaded from his armor after his Jedi hunting days had ended. Instead he grabbed some spare ammo canisters for the FC-1. This might prove useful, especially if the lightsaber wielding woman returned.

By now the Luck's Gamble had put down in a small clearing three kilometers and a few degrees east of south of the rally point set by Captain Lasso. No further instruction was given to LER or Neb as Taab led Al'kesh down the boarding ramp. They knew they would have to be ready in case the group needed a quick evacuation.

Taab had hoped for a quick link up and extraction. To get offworld before the Imperials could set up a blockade would have been ideal, but it would be far too late for that now. He wondered who was stalling who during his duel with the Hand earlier. At least she knew she had a lot of backup. Taab had just this rag tag crew.

He took stock of his new partner as they set off into the jungle. The Devaronian seemed to know what he was doing, though he was a bit noisy about it. Taab took point, with the nightvision afforded him by his buy'ce (helmet) he was the obvious choice for that duty. As they made their way through the dark jungle, he never had to turn around to see where Al'kesh was, he could hear him as he made his way in Taab's footsteps. Still the red skinned being was better than most would have been under similar circumstances, but it was clear he would have been more comfortable either indoors, or at least on a world where the trees weren't trying to eat you.

Their trip took them some time, but the pair never spoke. Instead they communicated through a series of fairly universal hand signals, which Al'kesh could barely see in the ever encroaching darkness. As they neared their rally point Taab slowed, they were being watched. Taab glanced about before catching a glimpse of someone, who he didn't know, looking at them through his own night scope. "clever lad," Taab mumbled under his breath before silently, and quickly backtracking, putting Al'kesh out in front.

The move would have forced their observer to focus on the Devaronian, and while he did that Taab moved off in a new direction, flanking him. Taab watched as the observer ran off, towards the rally point. He was quiet, and good, but not as good as Taab was. The Mandalorian motioned for Al'kesh to keep going, using him as bait. It was something that might have made others squeamish or uncomfortable, but Taab felt none of those things. If there was to be a skirmish here, Taab would come out on top, and lose only a new recruit in the process. Acceptable losses so long as the Captain survived.

But it never came to that. Soon after the man ran off Taab and Al'kesh were contacted by Captain and his group. They had all arrived here safe. A few minutes later they were going over their situation.
Taab had listened in on the briefing, saying nothing as Lasso went over their options before coming to a decision. He was concerned about the arrival of even more Imperial troops. But to be honest his mind was partially elsewhere...

​

Taab was struck by the similarity in circumstances he now faced. Cut off and alone on a world overrun with the enemy. The Mandalorians had never once discussed surrender, they had another two weeks left on their contract when the GAR reinforcements had arrived. For those two weeks the Mandos had turned the tables on the GAR, using hit and run attacks to keep them off balance and helped to prevent them from digging in. It had been grueling work, always moving, always tired and hungry, always looking over your shoulder and keeping your battle buddies safe.

Eventually a CIS task force arrived. The battle droids they landed swung the balance of power back in their direction, at least for a time. Taab and his crew emerged from the jungle a week after that, almost out of ammunition, their armor scarred and bloodied, they got the remainder of their pay (plus overtime) from the new droid commander and left Felucia, never to return. He doubted the endgame here would be so easy.

He was taken aback by the Skipper's mention of the Force. Looking at him, Taab didn't think he was old enough to be a Jedi, though he knew looks weren't everything when it came to such. Still his "talent" must be the reason the Emperor had sent one of his Hands against him, and also explained the Kingdom of Jod's interest in him as well. They obviously hadn't been up front about everything, but Taab shrugged that off. No employer ever was.

Taab did his best to hide the shock of that revelation though. Instead he sent off the message to the Luck's Gamble as ordered. Then he checked over his kit before moving off with the group. Hallomar took point, the man knew his craft, while most of his guards brought up the rear of their column as they moved through the jungle. That left the Mercs in the middle, with Taab never more than a few paces away from the Skipper. Naturally the Captain had some interest in the red head who had tried to apprehend him, but now wasn't the time to discuss that. Taab filled him in on the most important facts anyway. "She's an Emperor's Hand, and she's still alive." Taab would have to let the Skipper chew on that for a time.

Their own small group made good time themselves, but the terrain was rough and though most of them were in great shape, they were slowed down by Mr. Biggs. Taab considered shooting the man and
leaving him behind, but doubted the others would appreciate the attempt to speed up the group. It took them nearly five hours to complete the journey to the base of the mountains.

---

Just past midnight, base of the Mountain range.

"OK, Take five. Everyone take five." Hallomar whispered out to the group as they reached their destination. Most of the Mercs took to a knee and rested up for a bit, though Mr. Biggs collapsed down to the ground. "Bless the maker, we be here." he exclaimed tiredly. This was just their first waypoint, now the group would be split up. There was a lot of walking yet to be done. Taab shook his head, he wasn't winded in the slightest. The group's slow advance had allowed for him to conserve his energy. He knew if he had been alone he could have made the journey in half the time, even without using his jetpack.
Hallomar approached the group. He too did not appear winded. "My men are securing the perimeter. Now what?" Taab liked the man, and admired his skill in getting them out here. He had to know that while their rag tag band had managed to stay unmolested, the Imperials had used that time to solidify their grasp on Port Haven's main settlement. They would be sending patrols out into the jungle soon enough. Hopefully they would wait until sunrise to begin their first sweep over unfamiliar ground, but Taab wouldn't bet on it.

TAG: Bravo ( Sith-I-5 )

 

IC: Captain Ool-Re-Kospi, Havah Jeth, the Cook family, Skip One landing field
Location: Smugglers' Run


Ool stood back to keep all of the beings under his gaze. As long as he knew where everyone was, he could feel more secure.

"I would hope you were between flightsuits, that color doesn't suit you well"

That came from behind him! He made sure to only turn his head and neck to get a glimpse of how many there were.

"What the hell is wrong with green and black stripes anyway?!" The Tiss'shar demanded, the ire clear in his voice. The scale colouring came with a proud tradition within his clan. He hesitated. "Oh, you mean the towel! Carry on."

The authoritative woman ahead reassured the guy behind that he, Ool, was not trying to sell her a second-hand ship, made the accurate call that his flightsuit was in the cleaners, then addressed him personally.
"Captain, tell me about yourself and how well can you handle a fighter"

"I like action and adventure, Ma'am. Fighting the good fight. Although in quiet times, I can fall back on cargo hauling to make some credits. The Snow White is a roomy ship." He paused, then, "as for starfighters, not really my thing, cos of the tail," he swished it so that she could see it to the right and behind him, "though if the emergency is dire enough, just have someone jump out at me unexpectedly with a paper bag over their head, and if I'm scared enough, my tail'l fall off, and then we are good to go. Or, him!" Kospi pointed past Fress at the scruffy, dark-haired human male that he could see manhandling a dented wire-frame shopping trolley towards the group. "That ugly mug would scare the tail off me any day!""

Truth to tell, Captain Kospi was not overly enthused about the tail-dropping idea. Sure, it would grow back, but while it was doing so, just having the nub made him feel...inadequate.

Same sort of thing he heard from male humans when challenged to shave their facial hair.

Trolley Pusher Man was accompanied by a prettier woman walking close by his side, and wrapped in the silvery foil of a medical blanket bearing an unfamiliar logo in red. One side of her head bore an intricately-styled bun that was being made fashionable by Alderaan's Senator Organa, while she was trying to fix the other side on the go, having clearly abandoned it earlier due to an urgency of which the reptilian spacer was unaware.

Ool's tongue flickered out from between his hard grey lips, tasting the air, drawing his attention to the sizable silvery mound being ferried on the trolley. There was the faintest chink of glase on glase.

"There...there is something alive under there."

As if in response to his observation, a small cherubic face peeked out from under the covering, happily proclaiming: "I'm Medical Supplies!"

The trolley pusher scowled, leaning forward to pull the edge of the foil down over the face. "Shh. Do that again, and you'll be an organ donor." To which the plaited-hair woman punched him on the arm.

"Hey, that's my son you are talking to!" She whispered.

"What? He's nine. He doesn't know what an 'organ donor' is." He pulled the trolley up alongside the Sherland woman, and looked at her, making no move to conceal the deception. "Got the medical supplies. Take 'em aboard the 'Crusader?"

The Ryn looked at the Jeth party, ready to follow them aboard the freighter, since he did not yet know which of the gathered vessels were their's.

Tag: Fress, Atin, Bravo, Coffee or Mitth when available.

 

IC: Fress Colias Rav Carter (Sal Brooks) Dom
Hangar Bay Skip One smugglers run

Fress nodded as she listened to Kospi explained about his past as the information came back from Atin. She glanced down and nodded. He hadn't told her what he was doing out here but the criminal background check answered that question for her. The tail falls off, she would have to keep that one in mind for a prank to see if he was telling the truth.

It would have to be believable, she noticed he pointed off Jeth as an example. A woman walked up beside him and she knew that the medical supply run was definitely more then what Cook had told her.

"There...there is something alive under there."

Fress glanced down and noticed the child peeking through the covering.

"I'm Medical Supplies!"

Fress gave a light chuckle, kids would repeat anything. It reminded her of her son Brice. He was going to be eleven soon. "I can see that, but medical supplies are not supposed to be able to talk," she quickly reminded him.

The trolley pusher scowled, leaning forward to pull the edge of the foil down over the face. "Shh. Do that again, and you'll be an organ donor." To which the plaited-hair woman punched him on the arm.

"Hey, that's my son you are talking to!" She whispered.

"Havah, he's a kid, no need for threats," Fress raised an eyebrow watching Havah with a frown.

"What? He's nine. He doesn't know what an 'organ donor' is." He pulled the trolley up alongside the Sherland woman, and looked at her, making no move to conceal the deception. "Got the medical supplies. Take 'em aboard the 'Crusader?"

"Take the medical supplies aboard quickly," Fress answered with a frown. "Captian Kospi, would you mind giving Dom and Sal Brooks a ride? It seems the Crusader is a little crowded now."

Rav Cater frowned as he glanced at Dom. "Wait what about?"

"There would be room for you two if Jeth warned me ahead of time they would be taking in two extra persons. If Kospi has a roomy frieghter, then I suggest we make use of it," Fress explained as she scribbled a note and passed it off into Dom's hands.

Keep an eye on Sal, I have a feeling he may have an alternative motive for joining.

Dom gave a short nod as he pocketed the note. It appeared Sherland didn't trust Sal Brooks either and was most likely the reason she wanted to talk with him in private. He reflected on what she had said but didn't say what he was hired to do. He had a feeling she could read others like a book and must've picked up that interesting trait from him or something else tipped her off. His instincts were correct on Sal, he wasn't telling the truth and definitely needed to be watched to make sure he didn't try anything.


Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik indirectly and if need be

 

IC: Squadron Leader Havah Jeth, Captain Ool-Re-Kospi, the Cook family, Skip One landing field
Location: Smugglers' Run


"Take the medical supplies aboard quickly."

Jeth nodded and steered the trolley towards the Corellian freighter that was the Crusader.
While he took on board both women's objections to his half-serious admonishment of the youngling, if the kid was going to be hanging around on the Johnny Boy, the place this side of the Galactic Centre penetrated by more intruders than the Spice Vaults of Gargon, he better get used to obeying instructions.

As the Crusader came into view, Havah wondered if Taller's rule about crew handing in their weapons aboard ship, had gotten out into the wider universe, and was now considered a better prospect for a raid than say, a comparable-sized Imperial ship.

"Brace yourself, Kid. Bump coming up." He warned, just before the trolley's wheels hit the bottom of the boarding ramp, and he was able to push the trolley up into the bowel's of the Mandalorian vessel, "Rebecca" scampering up after him.

Jeth called Atin on his wristlink. "Kid. Jeth. I'm on board with two passengers that our good Doctor wanted me to retrieve. Close the ramp for now, please. Sherland can comm you when she wants to come aboard."

While he was talking, "Rebecca" pulled the silver foil off her son, revealing a modest pile of boxes and plastic jars - the real medical supplies - and the little boy kneeling on a folded blue jacket so the wire trolley would not cut into his knees and shins.

Jeth signed off, and looked into the trolley with some concern, sighing with relief at confirming the bottle of Oseon Brandy laying between "Peter's" knees, and the one of Whyren Reserve being held tightly in his pale, chubby little hands, were both uncracked.

"Good job, Kid." He took the dark bottles, while Rebecca lifted Peter out of the trolley, and sttled him down on the deck. Jeth nodded down the curved corridor, "There's some seats and refreshments down that way. I will get these secured." He really wanted to toast some Whyren to his fallen comrade, Mary Starr, before that woman outside could object, but he was in the middle of an operation, and while he knew he would be better for the drink, it wasn't worth the hassle right now.

* * * *

Out on the landing field, Kospi nodded when the Sherland woman said to him, "Captian Kospi, would you mind giving Dom and Sal Brooks a ride? It seems the Crusader is a little crowded now."

"Sure thing." He worked out who one of them was, by the man's short protest, and pointed them to his blocky-looking ship. "That's my baby, the HT-2200 over there. She's sealed till I am ready to board."

He looked back at Sherland, filing away that she had called the Ugly Man, "Jeth".

"My flightsuit will be clean in about another hour. Do we have that long before we leave? If not, I can have another one made to my specs at the tailors, right now."

Kospi tried not to seem too eager, but he was desperate to leave the same time as them. Even if they had not accepted him, he'd already decided he would offer up to three hundred creds to follow them through the Skips to clear space.

After that, if he never saw another asteroid field again, it would be too soon.

While waiting for her response, Ool looked proudly back at his swishing tail. Considering it was still attached to him now, after the terrifying flight in, it might take more than a being wearing a paper bag to drop it. "Who is my brave little soldier then?" He cooed in a surprisingly gentle voice to it, not intending to be heard. These heathen humans might not get it, but there is a special bond between a lizard and his tail. "Who is?"

Tag: Atin, Fress and npcs, Cain Varss

 

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

Cain had watched the spectacle unfold in front of him. The man that had been with Fress at the bar and had left came around to the YT-1300. Apparently there was something involving the woman with him, her hair decidedly out of sorts, and the child that this Jeth character had tried to conceal. It apparently did not bother Fress though, and since Cain had no other being in his vicinity to trust, he trusted her reactions and instinct. Trust. I barely know her, how can I even say I trust her action... It was a deceptively complex predicament for Cain. He had to trust her because Fress was the only being he was particularly familiar with. With their conversation in the bar, he decided she was the person that Cain had trusted most in the past few years. While that might be reassuring to some, the skeptical Cain found the thought disturbing. He was relying on one person and her reactions for most of his intel. Cain preferred multiple sources of information for making informed decisions. The decision to trust Fress was decidedly uniformed, yet if he didn't trust her he would never get in with the Mercs; a classic damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario. Cain had a feeling this wouldn't be the last of those types of scenarios.

Cain studied the lizard through the encounter and ran through the reptile species he knew. Cain knew it wasn't a species he had encountered, but he knew a few reptilian species that were prevalent through the galaxy that he hadn't met in his travels. Maybe a Barabel...no not big enough for the descriptions I've heard. Saurin are out because this lizard looks nothing like a Trandoshan. I'm thinking either Tiss'shar or Chistori. Cain didn't have much more time to think. If the reptile stayed on in the crew after the coming operation, then he would ask the exact species he was. Right now it wasn't pertinent.

"My flightsuit will be clean in about another hour. Do we have that long before we leave? If not, I can have another one made to my specs at the tailors, right now."

Cain noticed something after the reptile spoke. The man looked at his tail in a rather odd fashion. The lizard whispered something that he couldn't make out, but it was either to an unseen observer or in admiration of himself, specifically the lizard's tail.

Either way, it was irrelevant, though odd. Cain's mind switched tracks. Fress was obviously the leader in the situation. There had been a slight amount of tension between Fress and this Jeth in the brief encounter, but Cain picked up on the slight strain. Because Cain didn't know Jeth at all, Cain passed no judgement on the way the pair acted or Jeth himself as Cain could not make an informed guess. Cain hatched a different idea as Jeth walked up the ramp. He wanted to help reinforce that image of Fress's leadership by implying, through his words, that she had relayed the information to him whereas Cain merely interpreted the situation and acted.

"According to the Squadron Leader," Cain motioned toward Fress, "we are trying to leave ASAP. If you want to be of use, and correct me if I'm wrong ma'am," Cain said indicating toward Fress again, "but if you want to be of use, be ready to leave ASAP. Hopefully no more than half an hour." Cain hoped he hadn't overstepped his bounds, but he felt that his demonstration, even if artificial, would help to bolster Fress's leadership and negotiating power over the new arrivals. Cain, being a new arrival himself, saw the irony, but Fress had trusted him with a secret that few knew. The slight twinge of comradery Cain had felt had taken him to places he had scarcely imagined in the past five years. It almost takes me back to my TIE pilot days... Cain shook off the nostalgic thoughts and focused on those before him.

Tag: Sith-I-5, JediFalcon, Bardan_Jusik (maybe), any others in the hanger or Skip One

 

IC: Mary Formal, Port Haven western beach
Location: Port Haven


Mary, still in blue alien mode, looked over the beach from her position in the upper reaches of a tree at the western edge of the forest, so that she could observe the top of the cliff, and the beach beyond.

Things had been quiet since the hovercraft had departed, motoring up the beach, and no sign of either Imperial troops, or the locals since.

She did not know how destructive the Imperial invasion had been.

Several ships had made it off the beach, largely untroubled by ground fire, however, several fiery trails of burning debris had re-entered through the cloud cover, lighting up the evening sky before extinguishing in the surf.

Mary was not thinking meteor shower. She was thinking blockade ships up there where she could not see them, blasting vessels as they peeked out of the gravity well. Or maybe someone had somehow activated a planetary shield round the planet.

And her only way off-planet was that V-Wing starfighter sitting out there on the beach in front of the recently-arrived Sentinel-class landing craft.

Or was it?

ZAAASH!

A bright red laser bolt illuminated the Sentinel's near side momentarily , flashing up to hit her tree, three metres below her perch, exploding the trunk, into burning grey shards, the top part where she was, leaning over towards the cliff path while she held desperately on for the ride, the separated top half continuing its journey, like a canoe beginning a white water rafting adventure, nosed over the cliff itself to crash onto the beach below, finally tearing the Arkeenian female loose to smash her onto the sands, looking up the sheer cliff-sides.

"Ohhh." She moaned, trying hard not to lose consciousness. If she did, and the Imperials found her, she was likely dead.

Her shape shimmered as she changed into the human form.

There was no gaurantee that they would treat her any better as a female human, but there was a chance. And that was all she had right now.

Her eyes fluttered, but she lay still, in the darkness at the bottom of the cliffs, with the log beside her.

Tag: no-one

 

OOC: Sith asked me to give a little "background flavor" post to the blockade, so here goes...

IC: Captain Jan Upser/ Lt Warren Kefler (EC-87-5) NPCs
Above Port Haven. Several hours ago.

"I can't believe you left her!" the Rodian cried out to Jan Upser, Captain of the smuggling vessel Cash Advance. "You just left her!" Upser was too busy trying to get the brand new YT-1930 offworld in one piece to worry about the ravings of her "first mate" Bruno as he continued to lament the loss of the third member of their crew, a Zeltron woman named Kara.

"Who knows what they'll do to her if they catch her?"

Upser winced as she looked at the power curve the ship was flying through now. They should be OK for orbit, assuming nothing else happened to them on the way up. "We didn't have time, we barely got off the ground as it was." The ship shuddered as it was hit by a heavy blaster bolt from an AT-ST. "We're not out of the woods yet, strap in."

The Cash Advance's power curve continued to improve as she poured on the throttle, so Upser pitched and yawwed the ungainly vessel to throw off the firing solution of the gunner below. It seemed to work as the blaster fire streamed off towards another freighter clawing for the sky. She winced again as a bright flash consumed the Bucking Rancor before she could get her shields up. The Muurian Transport broke into two pieces which spiraled down towards the jungles below.

But the shifted fire had allowed the Cash Advance to gain more altitude, enough to be out of range of the guns below. Now they had to worry about what was above them. "Get on the gun." Upser ordered now as the ship broke free of the atmosphere and was surrounded by the blackness of space. In the distance she could see the outlines of Imperial capital ships. She knew fighters would be inbound soon, she hoped Bruno was good on the gun.

It struck her that she did't know her now broken crew very well, nor her new vessel. She had bought it fresh off the line, funded by a loan from her Hutt employers (hence the ship's name). She figured the new YT series craft would give the older YT-1300 series a run for their money and allow her to pay off her loan in short order. They had made their one run in good time, and had decided to celebrate here until their next contract came through. It was looking like an auspicious decision now.

She looked down at her scope as Bruno finsihed strapping himself into the ship's single turret mount. Incoming fighters. "Hold on!"

---

[hr]

Lt Warren Kefler, EC-87-5 to his flight mates, hung weightless in his grav couch. He looked out of his transparisteel screen at the few vessels that were making their way off the planet, hoping one would come out through his section. He had four kills to his credit, 2 pirate fighters, an illegal cargo hauler and the last, a rebel X-wing. The last of course was the talk of the squadron, but just one more kill to his credit and he would become an ace. That would allow him to punch his ticket out of the TIE fighter he now found himself in and get him into something more commensurate with his skills, either one of those fancy Interceptors, or even something with shields and a hyperdrive.

His scanners beeped at him through the speakers in his headset, as control aboard the [I]Defender[/I] simultaneously came through with a call. [COLOR=#000080]"Delta flight, incoming bandit. Detain or destroy."[/COLOR] Kefler drew in a quick breath of antiseptic tasting air from his life support system. This was his chance. [COLOR=#3366ff]"As ordered, Judy"[/COLOR] he went to the flight circuit and ordered his subordinates to military thrust. Pushed back into his grav couch now the TIE fighter smoothly accelerated forward braced by his three wing mates. The call of [B]"Judy" [/B](indicating the group was intercepting a bandit) came in through his headset three times from them. The flight was moving out.

They were a well knit group, together for over a year as they engaged the enemies of peace and order in the Empire. Kefler was a patriot, and had an extreme hatred of anything that smacked of rebellion against his beloved Empire, or Emperor. But he held an even greater love, a secret love that he kept from all but his trainers. A love of flying. He suspected the only reason his instructors had known of his hidden love was that they felt the same way themselves. It was probably something all pilots shared, even his enemies.

He set the TIE Fighter's rather rudimentary systems to interrogate the bogey's IFF, but he got nothing in reply. The ship was running without an active transponder. More so than control's ID of the incoming freighter as a bandit this told Kefler that the vessel was hostile. [COLOR=#3366ff]"Standard weave, I have the lead. Break now,"[/COLOR] he ordered to his flight group of four. He and his wingman broke starboard, while the other pair of TIEs broke to the port side.

They had the incoming freighter bracketed now, and each pair of TIEs began to bank back in towards it in a pincer movement. Kefler squinted, his well above average eyesight able to pick out details of the freighter now. Some sort of Corellian product, though the exact designation evaded him. [COLOR=#3366ff]"What da ya make of her Six?"[/COLOR] he called out to his wing mate. Six was a notorious bookworm, always studying potential enemies and their tactics as well as technical details. Her voice came in crystal clear over the net. [COLOR=#ff6600] "YT-1930, new design. Definately a smuggler." [/COLOR]

Kefler grunted and was about to hail the ship when angry bolts of red plasma began to spit out in their direction from the freighter. [COLOR=#3366ff] "OK all there's our cue. Target engines only. Control wants prisoners." [/COLOR]
Again their response echoed out in his earpiece three times again, [B]"As ordered."[/B]

Twin streams of green plasma shot out into space, lancing towards the freighter. Their distinctive chatter was silent in space, but could be felt through the grav couch. They reached out towards the offending vessel, chewing through its shields and causing minor damage to the rear of the ship.

[COLOR=#800000]"Kriff!"[/COLOR] rang out over the headset as the two pairs of TIE fighters sped past one another. It was a call from EC-87-7, the flight commander for the second pair. Kefler took a moment to glance down at his threat display, all fighters were still accounted for. [COLOR=#3366ff]"Status Seven,"[/COLOR] he called out, looping his element back over towards the freighter while waiting for a reply.

[COLOR=#800000]"Got clipped by a shot from that fraking thing."[/COLOR] There was a pause as Seven no doubt was checking over his systems. [COLOR=#800000] "I'm OK."[/COLOR] Another look at his scanners showed Kefler that Seven was still making speed, he wasn't hurt that bad.[COLOR=#3366ff] "Lets make another pass."[/COLOR]

The fighters bored in again on their attack runs, giving wide berth to the single turret that still stabbed red death at them. The TIEs had no shields, and while Seven was lucky to shrug off the glancing blow, they all knew that if one of them took a concentrated burst they were vapor.

Green streams again began impacting against the freighter, this time against her rear hull. The eflux streaming from her engines began to darken a bit, though it wasn't extinguished completely. Still they were slowed enough that a boarding craft could cath up to them now. One more pass should immobilize them fully. Kefler began to pull his flight around again when the threat warning receiver started going off, shrieking in his ear.

He pulled off into evasive maneuvers, jinking his TIE from side to side trying to make his small fighter an even smaller threat. Red bolts sprayed all around him, though none impacted. Continuing his roll he saw it was a [URL='http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Planetary_Defender_starfighter']Planetary Defender[/URL], and it was accelerating away from the fight. Kefler rolled through [COLOR=#3366ff]"Seven, stay with the freighter."[/COLOR] He knew that his order would be obeyed even before another call of [COLOR=#800000]"As ordered."[/COLOR] came though.

Six was still on his wing as he went into pursuit of the fighter that had snuck up on him. It looked as if whoever it was had just wanted to throw them a parting shot before trying to make their own escape. The superior speed of the TIE series wouldn't let that happen though.

Kefler dumped some of his laser energy to the engines, allowing him to close the gap more quickly. The Planetary fighter tried to evade, but there wasn't much that could outmaneuver a TIE. Kefler easily stayed on its tail and poured laser fire into its aft section until the vessel exploded in a cloud of expanding gasses.

Kefler took he and his wingman through the cloud and did a brief victory roll. This was his fifth confirmed kill. His status as an ace was secure. He banked back towards the other element of his flight and saw they had immobilized the freighter now. Forming up with them he switched frequencies and called back to the Defender. [COLOR=#3366ff]"Control, one bandit splashed, one bandit dead in space, awaiting boarding." [/COLOR]

[COLOR=#000080]"Roger that Delta flight, Raider-2"[/COLOR] (the callsign for the [I]Defender's[/I] TIE boarding craft) [COLOR=#000080]"inbound. Provide security and maintain patrol."[/COLOR]

[COLOR=#3366ff]"As ordered Control."[/COLOR] came the stoic reply from Kefler, but inside he was leaping with joy, tonight in the officer's lounge, the drinks were on him.

[hr]

Upser had physically ducked as the TIE fighters made their passes on the Cash Advance, as if to help the ship avoid being torn apart by the faster and more nimble fighters. It was an involuntary reaction, deep down she knew they stood little chance of getting out of this.

The rapid call of their own blaster cannon rang out through the ship, but Bruno only managed to be a minor annoyance to the marauding fighters. For her part, Upser's own maneuvers hadn't helped much in stalling their fate either. The fighters just kept coming, making several passes at them and damaging their engines.

They had just the one glimmer of hope as the Planetary Defender fighter made its pass through the TIE fighters formation. Upser recognized the old ship, it was the privateer known only as Chappy. She had met him back down on Port Haven, the dark skinned bald man had even bought her a drink as he regaled her with his plans to join up with the mercenary fighter squadron called the Mercs. Now he was here to help save the day, and her ass.

But it wasn't to be. Despite the man's year of experience in the cockpit the TIE's made short work of him and his fighter. At the same time the Cash Advance was struck again in the engine compartment, shutting them down. The ship was dead in space, and awaited one of two fates. Boarding or vaped.

The ship shook again as the TIEs made another pass, taking out Bruno and the gun pod. Damn. She could have used the Rodian if they were boarded. They had a reputation for shooting first. Now she was alone, and she could see a TIE boarding craft approach.

Steeling herself she brought up her blaster pistol as the craft clamped onto hers and the cutting torches started making their way through the hull. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting.

But she ever got the chance, the hull exploded inward with a force that took her breath away. She tried to refocus and catch site of some traget through the smoke, but all she saw was the bright blue ring of a stun bolt an instant before it struck her square in the chest.

She fell to the deck unconscious as a squad of Stormtroopers burst through the smoke and secured the rest of the ship. "Inform control that we have a prisoner."

---

[/hr[

This scene was repeated several times around the world of Port Haven as the few vessels to make it off world attempted to complete their escape. But none did. The Imperial stranglehold on the shadow port was complete, and even if the Emperor's Hand hand't completed her mission yet, it would now just be a matter of time. Jason Lasso wasn't going anywhere.


TAG: [USER=483861]Bravo[/USER], [USER=709637]Sith-I-5[/USER].

[IMG]http://www.smileyvault.com/albums/character/smiley-vault-character-136.gif[/IMG]

 

IC: Fress Colias
Hangar bay, Skip One Smugglers Run

"Who is my brave little soldier then?" He cooed in a surprisingly gentle voice to it, not intending to be heard. These heathen humans might not get it, but there is a special bond between a lizard and his tail. "Who is?"

Fress raised an eyebrow holding back a smirk. Was he talking to his tail or was she imagining things? She noticed Cain was watching him too. She suddenly had a strong urge to scare the tail off him.

"According to the Squadron Leader," Cain motioned toward Fress, "we are trying to leave ASAP. If you want to be of use, and correct me if I'm wrong ma'am," Cain said indicating toward Fress again, "but if you want to be of use, be ready to leave ASAP. Hopefully no more than half an hour."

Fress glanced at Cain with a frown. He was overstepping his boundaries considering she was the one in charge of this mission. She turned her attention back to Kopsi. “Cain is right, we planned to leave as soon as Jeth got back with the medical supplies. How long do you think it would take at the tailors?”

Sith-I-5

 

OOC: this post will bring the "in orbit" elements of the Port Haven group to the same time frame as what is going on planet side.

IC: Warren Kefler (EC-87-5) (NPC)
Several hours later. Escorting Prison Transfer flight S-3, enroute to the Cimmerian

Kefler stifled a yawn as he led his flight on to the intercept point with Slick-1. He had received a hearty congratulations for his new status as an ace from the squadron commander, and then a few hours bunk time before heading out again. There hadn't been any time for that drink in the Officer's Mess, the 87th Squadron was on duty status, with one flight flying, one flight on standby while the third flight rested.

Kefler and his flight had gotten their rest, and then standby duty and had launched only moments before for their rotation on patrol. It was then that Defender control had decided to double dip and assign them a short escort mission. It was a routine mission, a blue milk run was the vernacular, and it wouldn't impair the flight in their general patrol duties either. Besides, since that initial bevy of ship captures that had occurred early on, no other ships had attempted to blast their way past the blockade.

Kefler yawned again in his flight suit as the group formed up around the Defender's TIE shuttle. The craft had been loaded up with all the prisoners taken by the Defender's crew who after a basic going over by medical, were now enroute to the command ship for interrogation. Kefler didn't know whose job that was, and he didn't want to know. He was content to just fly his hop and do his own duty. Hopefully when his patrol time was over he could get that drink.

"This is Delta flight, we have you Slick-1, follow our lead." EC-87-7 and EC-87-8 formed up in front of the shuttle and led the way towards the Cimmerian. Kefler along with EC-87-6 took an overwatch position behind the vessel.

As Seven took up his lead position, Kefler could see that his wasn't the same crate they had flown out earlier. There was no sign of the damage he had accrued in their previous flight. That was no surprise to the flight leader, pilots in the Imperial Navy were rarely assigned the same ship on consecutive hops, and never were never assigned "ownership" of a particular fighter in the squadron or group. The message was clear, TIEs, like their pilots, were exchangeable commodities to command, and one was just like any other.

Kefler wasn't so sure about that part, there were times where he could tell the difference between two crates as he took them out of the hanger. But he didn't dwell on it, the Empire knew best. Besides, he could fly anything.

They got closer to the Cimmerian and were contacted by the Vindicator's CAP (Combat Air Patrol) "Slick, Delta, this is Lancer flight. Authenticate X-ray-7." As flight lead Kefler looked over the data pad strapped to his thigh, looking for the corresponding code. If they gave the wrong signal, Lancer flight would assume that this was not an approved movement and blast them from the stars.

Finding the code in short order, Kefler broadcast out to Lancer lead. "Lancer, Delta here. I authenticate Broadsword, I say again, Broadsword."

Lancer responded with a simple "Acknowledged" as they continued on with their own patrol. They sounded as bored as Kefler was. Delta flight and their charge were cleared to proceed. Coming up on the Cimmerian now Kefler admired the lines of the heavy cruiser's hull. They certainly were a prettier ship than the escort carrier he had been assigned to. But they carried just the one squadron of fighters. Kefler would much rather be on a ship dedicated to servicing the smaller craft that he enjoyed flying so much. It made him and his fellow pilots the primary focus of the ship as opposed to just an auxiliary force like on the heavy cruisers.

The shuttle made its final approach and landed in the cruiser's docking bay where Kefler was sure the prisoners were being disembarked in a proficient military manner under the watchful eyes of the ship's crew. Delta flight took up station underneath the ship and began flying figure eights waiting for the process to be completed where upon they would escort the shuttle back to the Defender and then take up their own patrol once again...

---

IC: Major Maximilian Payne (NPC)
Cimmerian Docking Bay

Clad in his grey officer's uniform Major Payne oversaw the prisoner transfer from the Defender to the Cimmerian. He had already watched over similar transfers from the Navigator and the Voyage. Soon more prisoners would be coming in from the other Vindicators.

For the time being the Cimmerian was being utilized to host all the prisoners taken from the escaping smugglers and pirates attempting to make their way past the blockade. Once that was done, they would all be interrogated either here or transferred elsewhere for questioning. Major Payne wasn't sure whose duty that would be, it was above his pay grade. He had risen about as far in the ranks of the Imperial Army as he could. From a simple private his hard work and dedication to the Army had led him up the ranks until he had been given his commission. After continued service leading men (and women) into battle he had finally made Major, though he knew that it was doubtful he would be promoted further. Anything beyond Major took some political skill, something that Maximilian Payne had little of. He was a rough and tumble soldier who loved his troops and followed orders. But he was happy with his assigned duty, commanding the troops aboard the Cimmerian.

So he oversaw the prisoner transfers without complaint. After the shuttle from the Defender had left, and the prisoners led off to the detention block by a squad of his men, the shuttle from the Enforcer arrived and offloaded more. It was followed by a shuttle from the Aggressor. Soon enough the job was finished and all prisoners in the task force were aboard ship.

Payne was glad to wash his hands of the situation. His men were soldiers, not scum like the ISB , the Stormtrooper Corp or even the Imperial Navy, though he supposed the latter at least delivered him from place to place safely. He would have far preferred to have an enemy at his front and his men behind him, charging into battle. Moving prisoners and quashing smugglers and civilians always left him feeling...dirty. But following orders was a part of his duty, and Payne always did his duty. He informed his chain of command that the prisoner transfer was complete. Now it was up to the interrogators to do their jobs.

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Commodore Norris, Captain Sard, Commander Kofta, the Cimmerian Vindicator-class heavy cruiser
Location: Whendyll System

Norris had his arms crossed as he gazed at the semi-circle of holographic commanders from his blockade fleet, along with Special Guest Star Captain Sard of the Lancer-class frigate, Hard Eight, which was apparently happy to sit in space behind their interdictor, where it had been forced out of hyperspace by the artificial gravity wells.

“Oh, do not worry about me, Commodore.” Sard’s holograph was saying, “I am not worried about proceeding to Port Haven. My purpose here is almost entirely different to yours.”

Sard had ordered one of his subordinate ships to send TIEs to look the Lancer over, and they reported that the hull was scarred and scored with recent battle damage.

As well as drawing his respect, Norris also felt a pang of envy.

“Understood, Captain Sard. No more vessels have attempted to make it off the planet in the last few hours, so the prisoners we have for interrogation look like being it. Should we be expecting you aboard the Cimmerian?”

“With your permissions, Commodore, the Special One will come aboard to speak to anyone you managed to capture. Sard out.”

His holograph fizzled out.

Norris stared across his bridge silently. He was becoming aware, personally aware as opposed to officer scuttlebutt, that the Emperor held his Force Sensitive operatives in some high regard, more so than the most senior and loyal personnel.

He would have to extend the Special One all courtesy.

“Commander Kofta.”

Kofta operated one of the escort carriers that were closer to the planet. “Once we deployed the TIE fighters, Commodore, no ship has made it beyond the inner ring. Oh, and I am pleased to report that Flight Lieutenant Kefler has made Ace.” Currie smiled.

Norris also smiled. “Good to hear, Commander. Please pass along our congratulations. If the Emperor’s Hand expects us to remain here long term, we should start showing our crews that we respect achievement.”

“Sir.”

“All commands, thank you for transferring your prisoners to the Cimmerian. Dismissed.”

There was a flurry of affirmatives, then the holos dissipated until their next update holo-conference in six hours. Norris turned from the dais, calling across his bridge. “Lieutenant, time for my sleep cycle. Keep an eye on things here.”

“As ordered, Sir.” The junior officer watched his commander's back as he headed off the bridge, the guarded blast doors sealing behind him, then turned as a pair of the pit crew started riffing.

"The, the Special One is coming here?"

"Yes, and he is most displeased with your progress, Commander. *HAW*." The ComScan operator mimed artificial breathing.

"Yeah, laugh it up," the lieutenant chuckled as he looked down at the irreverent pit crew. "If Lord Vader hears of this, he will lose his drokking mind."

The capped pair looked up, "And who's going to tell him, Sir? You?"

Joel waved his hands in front of himself in denial. "Feth no, I ain't getting involved."

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Hallomar and company
Port Haven Mountain base

“Now we find the Imperial base with the ground communications network and nab the officer who has long range communications clearance. We get the codes and send a distress signal to the Jod fleet,” Zhoul pointed out with a short nod to Hallomar.

“And to warn the Mercs ships who are coming in from Skip One hidden in the Imperials communications” Hallomar remembered with a short nod as he glanced at Lasso. “Think you can handle that?” He questioned turning his attention to Taab. “My guards will help you secure the base.”

, Sith-I-5,
Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Captain Ool-Re-Kospi, Skip One landing field


Ool raised an eyebrow at the abbreviated time limit announced by the two Mercs. "Half-an-hour, huh? Okay, I better hurry then." He looked at the Ryn and Sal. "Okay, you two wait here. I will pick you up on the way back."

"Take your time." Sal responded casually, sitting back on the dark-coloured barrel that he had been perched on while waiting to get this show on the road.

Kospi got a fresh grip on the towel to prevent it dropping off while he was running, and with his tail up, legged it on powerfully muscled hind-legs, in the direction of the tailors, bursting in through the thin metal doorway, and glancing around the place looking for some sign of staff, animal, mineral, or vegetable.

"Shop!" He called into the place.

Tag: Any at the landing field