SWRPF Archive War of the Galaxies Deux [Restart of the WOTG Saga] - Looking for players, see updated first post!

IC ? Commander Erias Delmion
Sentinel Station

?Sir??

Commander Delmion turned to the speaker, taking his eyes from the report on the datapad in his hand. His communication chief, a young Alderaanian woman by the name of Nedwor was half turned in her chair towards him. ?Yes, Lieutenant??

?External communication originating on the Command Frequency. Aleph-3 encryption, your eyes only.?

?Understood. Route it through to my office terminal.?

Leaving the command centre, Delmion headed to his office at a comfortable pace. Commanders shouldn?t rush ? that was for lower ranks. Commanders should always be seen to be calm and in control, even if the arrival of an Aleph-3 message had piqued his curiosity more than a little.

The door to his office swept open at his touch, and the computer terminal on his desk was blinking furiously, indicating the message stored within. Pausing only to lock his door, he sat down and accessed the message.

?Identification required,? the terminal intoned in a female voice ? one that had undoubtedly been designed to be soothing but bordered on the annoying after a few months.

?Delmion, three-five-one-viper-sundog.?

?Confirmed.? Properly decrypted, the message spilled across his screen, and Delmion read the message with great interest. So . . . this Pax Dellos was requesting a meeting. Maybe High Command was finally getting its act together. And he wasn?t the only one who had heard the possible rumble of thunder on the Rim . . .

Decisions were made quickly in the Rebellion ? this was a necessity. Delmion quickly encoded a response:

To: High Commissioner Pax Dellos

From: Sector Commander Erias Delmion

Encryption: Triple Aleph-3/ Alpha One Return

RE: Request for meeting

Sir, although presently busy actively planning and executing the war against the Empire, I find that it is indeed in our best interests to meet. I have felt ignored for a long time by High Command, and a liasion such as yourself may be the answer.

I, too, have heard reports of a new threat on the Rim, but not the possiblity that the Empire is behind it. My information is of a . . . confusing nature. I propose that we pool our information and try to plan a correct counter-strategy.

I am enclosing a set of co-ordinates for a deep-space rendezvous near Hutt Space. It is lightly patrolled by Imperial forces, and our combined firepower should deter any threat from the Hutts. I will be at the coordinates in three days, and remain on station for a further seven.

Respectfully, Erias Delmion

Returning it via secure comm satellites spread throughout Rebel space, Delmion started to make preparations for his own departure. Finally, he activated his comm unit.

?Command Centre, Nedwor,? came the tinny reply.

?Delmion. Transmit orders to the Cobra. Message reads: Make all possible speed to pre-established rendezvous site Alpha-Alpha-Niner. Confirmation code is Ankh-Five-Five. Remain on station until rendezvous with transport Wyvern. Further orders will be relayed once rendezvous is completed. Message ends.?

?Understood, Sir. Anything else??

?Have the hangar prep the Wyvern for launch inside ten hours. And contact Major Faltonni ? tell him I want Alpha Squad to report to me in the main briefing room in three hours, ready to depart for extended detached duty.?

?Yes, Sir?

Delmion closed the link and leaned back in his chair, musing that the coming days were going to be very interesting indeed . . .

Tag: DS5

 

IC: High Commissioner Pax Dellos, Aboard the Rebel Reprisal

---

?Good, we?re ready. Justin, inform the Captain that we?re going to be leaving the system,? Pax said to his aide in training.

?Yes, sir,? the young man said cheerfully. ?He?s going to want to know where we?re? going, sir.?

Pax nodded and pulled a datapad out from his vest pocket, biometrically keyed to him and Captain Talkon, a Mon Calamari of exceptional ability. On it Pax had copied the coordinates of Delmion's rendezvous point. Pax had never heard of it before, but he trusted the Commander's judgement. ?He will know what to do with this.?

?Right away.?

Pax watched Justin leave and then turned his chair toward the window of his suit. Deep space. Very few stars here. The ships that patrolled the far Rim always seemed colder than usual and most casual observers say, ?It?s all that space. It just makes everything seem cold.? They may be true (or that the ships on deep patrol are on conservation modes and do not pipe as much heat as short-range vessels do), but Pax felt the real coldness was the one in his gut. The whole universe was taking a deep breath at this very moment. And when it exhaled, who would get swept up in the torrent?

Lost in thought, Pax did not notice the tiniest squeak of light in the distance. Had he looked directly at it, he might not have entirely known what he had seen. In a few weeks the light will be gone forever from the starscape. A sun had undergone a supernova?perhaps ten thousand years before. Had anyone lived there? Did anyone remember? Did it even matter? Pax believed in the powers of the Force (had seen them in person once) but he still felt utterly alone in the galaxy. Selcha was a friend. Justin a student. And his work all-consuming. Would Pax ever glow brightly like a sun? Might he give himself up in a supernova of exertion? And then be lost forever?

Pax's thoughts lay not on such philosopical grounds, though they sometimes did. Right now he was concerned with the Alliance leadership. When the rebellion became a sovereign state they would need to become something much greater. A unity needed to be formed. Pax had his own ideas about that. Perhaps Commander Delmion would be able to offer some further insight. Time will tell.

?High Commissioner Dellos,? intoned a speaker on Pax?s desk.

?Yes, Captain.?

?We are prepared to jump at your request.?

Pax noticed the ?request.? Talkon was still getting used to the strange new situation with Dellos. Pax himself was still unsure of his footing.

[i]I'm coming Commander Delmion...[/i]

?Go.?

TAG: [b]cavalier_one[/b]

OOC: I?m on my way.[/blockquote]

 

IC - Commander Erias Delmion
MC80a Star Cruiser Cobra

The honour guard that had been assembled on the main hangar deck for him snapped to attention as Erias Delmion walked down the boarding ramp. Pilots in dress whites from the Cobra's Air Group, soldiers from the marine contigent, technicians and support staff. And, in the middle of the arrayed figures, stood the command staff of the mighty star cruiser. At the very centre, a Mon Calamari in a white uniform stepped forward and saluted smartly.

"Commander Akama - permission to come aboard?" Delmion said, returning the salute.

"Permission granted, Commander. Welcome aboard," he said in a gravelly voice.

"You received my orders?"

"Yes, Sir. We started for the co-ordinates the minute your ship was safely onboard. We should be entering hyperspace momentarily."

Delmion stepped off the ramp, followed by Major Faltonni and Alpha Squad. He watched as the Cobra's XO gave the order to dismiss the ranks of personnel, giving them leave to return to their duties. The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving Delmion, Alpha Squad, Akama and the XO alone. "I'll need temporary quarters for myself, and possibly more permanent berths for these individuals. They may be staying for a while."

Akama eyed the Special Operations Commando Unit. "The Cobra has an excellent marine contingent."

"I'm sure they do. However, Alpha Squad is trained for more . . . covert activities that may be required." Akama nodded, but said nothing. Delmion looked around the hangar, then indicated to the departing crew. "This wasn't necessary. I've never been one for protocol and ceremony like this."

Akama fixed one of his eyes on the Sector Commander. "This ceremony is a show of respect by this crew to you. And it is as much for them as it is for you. The morale boost they recieve from seeing you, the show of unity that tells them that what they are doing is right. In this war, I believe, such emotions may be as important as Tibanna gas and proton torpedoes."

Delmion nodded. "I see your point, Commander. However, even you would agree that Tibanna gas and proton torpedoes are still necessary?"

Akama's lip's broke into Mon Calamarian equivilant of a smile. "Of course. I was just making a point." His flippered hand indicated towards the turbolifts. "Shall we?"

In the vastness of space, the bulk of the Cobra finished its stately turn, and reeled in the starfighters of the Combat Air Patrol. In a flicker of psuedo-motion, the Cobra was gone, heading for a rendezvous with destiny.

Tag: DS5

 

OOC: cavalier_one: if you are going to continue with us, we can have some further interactions (perhaps with some of Alpha Squad), but I'm going to continue with this right now. If you do return to posting, we can fill in what was discussed aboard the Cobra between our characters. For now, it will remain a shadowy secret...

IC: High Commissioner Pax Dellos, Aboard the Rebel Reprisal

---

Appearing suddenly, and quite expectedly for Commander Delmion, the [i]Rebel Reprisal[/i] vectored into the little known system at an oblique angle?indicative of the odd route the craft had taken. This meeting could be discovered by none.

?High Commissioner, we have arrived,? intoned Captain Talkon, moving his fingers over his slimy head. He was clearly relieved that the journey had come to an end. The complicated series of hyperspace jumps had taxed the vessel which had, until very recently, been a front-line screening frigate and had even been engaged for an Alliance record against a Victory-class Star Destroyer (over ten minutes). Talkon knew the ship was a warship and that she would groan under the burden of silent gun ports. The Mon Calamari spacefarers had developed numerous superstitions and Talkon knew that captains ignored them at their peril.

?I? see that, Captain,? Dellos said, absently, looking out of the forward viewports. A Mon Calamari warship was coming into view ? awfully close from their reversion point ? beautiful and deadly. The Mon Calamari had been generous in lending the Alliance their vessels and the Alliance had done their damndest to arm them with the best they could afford. Which, as Pax well knew, was not much. But enough.

The [i]Cobra[/i] was one of the newest of the ?a?-class, armed with forty-eight turbolasers. She was a beast ready to strike and she and her sisters were prepared to do battle across the universe. This was the shining example of the Alliance?s ability to accomplish something. Pax had been personally involved in many aspects of the Mon Calamari Starship Retrofit Project, most recently codenamed [i]Project: Shatterpoint[/i]. Dellos had been a member of the [i]Corusca Board[/i] (and still was, despite his apparent departure), the regents of the Alliance who were shepherding this and many other projects designed to move the Alliance military into a forward-deployable force. That was something no one knew, for the board was much like a Corusca Gem. Hard and impenetrable, burning with the fire of brilliant ideas, but able to be destroyed by too much pressure upon a single, vulnerable point. It was something even his aide did not know. Perhaps in time he would be able to discover this information.

?We are receiving a hail from the [i]Cobra[/i].?

?Patch it through??

[blockquote][hr][/blockquote]
[i]Rebel Reprisal[/i] entered hyperspace, heavier and more powerful than when it had exited. She now carried an able strike team, Alpha Squad, along with some additional rations and sensor equipment that could be spared. She was now an arrow, streaking across space to drive deep into the heart of the new darkness spreading in the wilds of the Outer Rim.[/blockquote]

 

SUPRISE!!!!
Finally talked into this, by the man himself.

Jello Approved
Blame him...hehehe

***************************************************
Character Profile Sheet

Class: Ex-Soldier/Scoundrel,
Name: Jim Halsen
Nickname: Sticks/(Tagger)
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Species: Human
Homeworld: Parents Homeworld Alderan/Born in space
Spoken Language: Basic, Bothan, Bocce, Huttese, Jawaese
Other Languages: Can read some oldstyle Corellian and Mandorian text

Appearance
---Height: 6'3"
---Eye Color: ice grey (was blue)
---Hair Color: brown and white
---Skin Color: Pale (was very tanned)
---Clothing:
---Other: (scars, tattoos etc)a long scar, from the bottom of his jaw, that dissapears into his shirts. It goes all the way down to his navel. Tips of his fingers slightly discolored.

Personality: This >< close to psychotic
Habits: See Below
Likes: See Below
Dislikes: See Below
Talents: Pioliting, Tracking, General repairs, and Close Combat
Weakness: Alcohol and deathsticks
Limitations:
Racial Attributes: None known

NOTE:

**When he's not drinking or taking his deathsticks, the slaughter of his unit comes to mind and he quickly loses it. He tends to constanly check his chronometer, or tap his finger on it, when he's sitting. He also tends to shift his eyes, like he sees movement nearby. He is ultra-paranoid/half terrified, of being caught 'THEM', and hearing his friends voices. However, most of these symptoms dissapear when he is on a mission. Then, he is in 'soldier mode', and he becomes like a spector, and is deadly. When his mind is focused on a task, he is fine. Otherwise, ghosts of the past will begin to haunt him. He sleeps with his eyes open, and a blaster in his hands. Wont use deathsticks when he's "On the clock."


Affiliation: Works for Credits
---Rank: None
---Branch: None - Ex Rebel Soldier
---Station: None
---Unit: None *all dead* Fire Krayts
---Position: Ex-pilot/tracker
---Primary Weapons: 2 daggers, a very long (16") sharp knife blade, a wide spread blaster, a wrist blade, and a projectile gun. (Can be expanded to sniper rifle size)

Personal Ship
---Name: The Joker
---Model: Modified Z-95 Headhunter
---Accessories: two bunks, tiny gaming table. space for hiding deathsticks.

The Force: ()
---Yes or No?: ?
---Affiliation:
---Title:
---Force Abilities:
---Force Weakness:
---Lightsaber Type:
---Blade Color:
---# of Lightsabers:
---Other:

Background:

He used to be a young soldier within the Rebellion. A few memberes from his old unit, was out monitering near one of the outposts that a small group of them had chosen to hid themselves from the Empire, as they were seperated from their unit. There, he saw somthing that threated to drive him mad. He managed to escape, the only one from the group to do so, the rest of his team having been slaughtered. He immediately quit the forces, and 'retired.'

Much later a older looking verson, a ghost of the young hotrod appeared. He was called 'Sticks', from his old deathstick habit. When you could get him out of his cups long enough, he was an excellent tracker, and good for bits of information. Usually, he would work long enough to earn credits for his habit, and then dissapear once again. He still is an excellent hand to hand fighter, if nothing else, he has even become better at it. Some say he's much more dangerious when he's drunk, and he's almost ALWAYS drunk. He dosent talk much. He has a long scar, from the bottom of his jaw, that dissapears into his shirts. It goes all the way down to his navel. But something is going on within the galaxy, that has made Sticks come out of hiding.


DONT MESS WITH THE BOOTS! He will go off, if someone gets his boots dirty, usually getting into a fight. Or drink.

Had started learning Teras Kasi, and excelled in Close Quarters combat. As he began his downward spiral, he began to fight in a new style, that some have name

 

Jim Halsen
Some Gambling Establishment - Commenor

Halsen sits, slumped low in his seat, as cold eyes blearly stare at an spot in front of him on the table. The dark circles under his eyes, spoke that he had not seen much sleep. Around him, people were gambling, and shouting, and generally having a good time, but as far as Halsen was concered, the people didnt exist. He didnt see the dancing girls and flashy lights, he didnt notice the loud music, or the sounds of folks having a good time. As far as he was concerned, they didnt exist. The only thing that did have his undevided attention, and was his only reason for being here at the moment, was in front of him.

His glass. His tiny bit of heaven, that sat mere inches away from him. Inside, it was filled with a thick rich golden colored liquid of alcoholic substance. Well, HALF filled with a thick substance. And there lay his problem. He would have to swallow slowly, and savor his drink. He was low on funds, and would soon have to go out, to earn more to pay for his habits. He growled softly, as he stared at his glass. Only the bartender and waitress would dare come near him in his present mood. One hand gently carressed the glass that held the warm liquid within. The one thing that kept his mind clear. The drink that kept the noise that constantly hummed within the confines of his brain, always in the background, always chattering, always...

Jim picked up the glass, and took a long, slow swallow, feeling the warm liquid course slowly down his throat. He hated this place. The gaudyness. The noise. But, it had the best drink in the area. Besides, he needed to be out in the open. Out, with the rest of the mundanes.

Something was happening.

He coudlnt put his finger on it. But the voices had become louder now. More insistant. He had to resort to deathsticks to get them back to their normal levels of a murmor. Something was happeining within the Galaxy. And like it or not, no mater how he didnt wish to become involved in such things, he was. He slowly shifted his eyes, away from his glass, to look at another loud group of people who were entering the place. He snorted. Fools. So willing to quickly throw themselves at the games, and drink themselves into oblivion. Even when they had no reason. No. He HAD a reason. A purpose. And soon, they would see it as well.

He closed his eyes slowly, feeling the warm liquid warm his stomach. But no mater what he drank, it could never warm the growing cold that he felt deep within him. No, it slowly grew, its cold breath touching places that alcohol could not reach. It was from that place, that the warning murmors came from. He slowly shook his head. Soon, everyone would know of the coldness that was to come. He wrapped his hand around his glass, and stared vaguely at the colorful lights around him.



TAG:Any

 

IC - Commander Erias Delmion
MC80a Star Cruiser Cobra

Sitting alone in the wardroom, surrounded by sheets of flimsi and datapads, Erias Delmion looked out on the swirling tunnel of hyperspace. It was almost hypnotic, and Delmion saw the swirling chaos as representative of the galaxy itself. He reflected on his meeting with Pax Dellos - the man was likeable, and had a good head on his shoulders. He had grasped the reality of the war they were facing, and knew that ideology and loyal fighters were not enough. More was needed, like a proper strategy, and a good battle plan. And he knew enough to leave the real fighting to the military men, and had given him a broadly defined objective, to be achieved as he saw fit.

He glanced down at the mess in front of him. On the datapads and flimsi sheets were plans and strategies, both old and new. They had been revised, updated or even rewritten for the task at hand. Currently, one datapad held orders for over a hundred units - from raiding ships to covert operatives - to begin Stage Three operations. Soon the war for the Outer Rim would begin in earnest.

------------------

IC - Major Garr Faltonni
Alpha Team's quarters, Rebel Reprisal

"Alright, people, get your gear squared away and stow all the loose equipment wherever it'll go. This is our home for Force-knows how long, so let's make it as comfortable as possible!"

Standing in the hatchway to thier new quarters, Major Garr Faltonni watched as the seven members of his team came filing through, ladened with personal kit and weapons. Next was the four man gunship crew, carrying kit and other vital equipment. Finally, the four man support crew - intelligence officer, quartermaster, armourer, and technician - came through with kit and equipment.

"Hey, Major! If we want it comfortable, how about we stop off at Ryloth and get some dancing girls . . ."

Faltonni turned and found the speaker, the youngest member of the team, Corporal Orun Desake. Desake may have been young, but he had seen a lot of combat, as had all of his team. With a smile on his face, Faltonni replied, "Stow that stang, soldier, or we'll drop you off on Nal Hutta for a Hutt mudbath!"

Faltonni looked around the quarters they were assigned - nothing more than a few rooms, but it was better than some places they'd been billeted. A dormitory with double bunks, enough for the entire squad, a reasonable sized refresher, and two rooms that Faltonni had designated the situation/ briefing room, and the armoury. Currently, all weapons and equipment were being stowed in the armoury under the watchful eye of both Chief Sumner and Specialist Calo, the team's quartermaster and armourer respectively.

Faltonni had chosen to bunk with his team, despite being offered quarters with the ship's officers. All he needed was a rack to sleep on, chow to eat, and an enemy to fight. Conversing with other officers about culture didn't appeal to him in the slightest. He remembered Commander Delmion's orders to him: Assist Dellos with his mission. Discover the threat in the Outer Rim. Destroy or cripple it if possible, but survive and report at all costs. Information is needed more than dead soldiers.

Stowing his personal gear in his footlocker, he shouldered his weapon and kit, sealing them in their new armoury. Watching the organised chaos of his squad moving around, he smiled. It's a good life, he mused, or so I'm told . . .

Tag: DS5 - Let's start again, eh? One more time . . . with feeling!

 

Darth Stygius

Cinnagar, Empress-Teta System

It had taken him more than half a day to trace the location of his property. He needed not worry about security cameras, he had quickly learned that this day and age museums used more effiecient and elaborate security traps to capture would-be thieves. Before a thief could even lift a piece, security gates would crash down and lock him inside. There was just no need to footage anything when the thief was already captured. So when the museum was closed for the night, Stygius had easily remained inside after closing by avoiding the routine patrols to see if everyone had left and those he could not avoid, he clearly controlled their minds and made them believe he was one of them.

So when he stood before his bracers he found it amusing that they would be located in a museum of history and placed among the artifacts of ancient Dark Jedi that existed before the Sith. In fact it was placed around the beginnings of the Sith Empire, before Marka Ragnos reigned. It seemed the curators and archeologists over the last tweleve hundred years could not mark when it was created, how it was created other than the usual hypothesises of force alchemy, who created it and how it worked. They believed a Sith had created them because of the Sithese writing inscribed into them but quantum dating suggested that they were created millenia before. So the archeologists had come to the conclusion that it had been created by a dark jedi long ago, passed down from master to apprentice until the last dark jedi that wore it was exiled with the others where it was inscribed with Sithese by the first Sith Lord and last worn by Exar Kun. They also, apparently, believed that they were gauntlets of power that amplified the wearer's strength in the Force.

So close to the truth, the Sith Lord bemused as he read the description below it. Yet so far from it. Though it irked him that Exar Kun had come to his resting place and took what belonged to him. He knew all about the upstart Jedi turned Sith and disapproved of the man's methods in dealing with the Jedi and the Republic.

Stygius cleared his mind of the dead Sith Lord and took note that the rest of his items may be in other museums' galleries dedicated to Exar Kun and the first Sith. The dark robed man narrowed his eyes as he focused his mind on retreiving what belonged to him. He felt the surface of the false, bodiless mannequin, the smooth glass encasing and the security trips that would slam the gates down upon any intruders. After a minute of determining the correct pressure for each trip, he applied the same amount with the Force and carefully unlatched the glass encasing. He set it aside with his gloved hands and began taking each bracer from the false arms. Still focusing his mind on the trips, he slipped each bracer on and turned away from the now empty display.

He could not activate them while he kept the trips pressed down. He had to get out of the room first in order to do that. The moment he stepped outside of the gallery and let go of the trips, klaxxons blarred and the security gates slammed down behind him. Stygius quickly activated his bracers and immediately felt a difference in the objects around him. The darkside was receiding from the museum, crawling back towards the vortex that hastely made for the nearest exit. He could hear the guards running down the hall, shouting orders to the others, arrogance in their voices at how they caught the thief.

They certainly will be surprised tonight, Stygius thought as he opened the emergency window and leapt out onto the empty side-street below to blend into the shadows of darkness...

TAG: Jello

 

IC: High Commissioner Pax Dellos, Aboard the Rebel Reprisal

"Faltonni and his team seem to be have settled in quite well, Mr. Commissioner," Justin, Pax's aide noted. The two were alone in the mess, Pax with a saucer of tea and the younger man with a mug of caf. "We're all Rebels in combat, I suppose."

"We are all people in combat and in real life, Mr. Kaln. Remember that. That is something the Empire despises -- that sense of individuality and personal worth. If the Empire prevails in the galactic conflict, all of the wonderful differences that exist between species, between men and women, between all individuals will eventually disappear into one collective... anyway. We're all people. And you can call me Pax if you want."

"... I... I really don't think that I should, Mr. Commissioner. It's... "

"I understand. I used to live in the Core too," Pax said, a wry smile forming on his face. "Mr. Kaln, I don't seem to know much about you. Where are you from?"

Taking a sip of his caf, the aide said, "You were right when you said the Core. My family is from Brentaal."

"Merchants?"

"Textiles. Before I defected we... " Kaln looked into the brown liquid for a moment and muttered, "... we were contracted out to make Imperial Army non-com uniforms."

Pax placed his cup into the saucer and looked at Justin, who was clearly rattled. Many defectors had similar stories of aiding the Empire in minor ways. Running a plant that made energy couplings used in TIE fighters. Overseeing an agricultural project that fed a stormtrooper brigade. The Rebellion often welcomed those whose consciences had gotten the better of them. Unfortunately, many of those who had the power to really change the Empire by defecting had little time to listen to conscience. "It's not a crime to make fabric."

"It's not a crime to follow the law, either, Mr. Dellos. But when it's Imperial Law? When it's informing on your competition? When it's firing the Rodian who has worked in the administrative offices since before I was born because of the increasing threat of alien sedition in the Core? Mr. Commissioner... there are crimes against governments and there are crimes against society."

Pax smiled. "That sounds awfully familiar."

"It should, you said it."

"I know. War Committee hearing?"

"A year ago," the young man stated, nodding. "I've been following you for a while. When I heard that you were looking for an aide, I started reviewing all of your testimony. You really think that we can win?"

"You don't?" Pax asked, taking a sip of tea.

"I hope."

"Hope is all that we have sometimes, Mr. Kaln. And sometimes all that is required for victory."

A lurch panged through the ship as the Nebulon-B frigate reverted into realspace. They had finally arrived at the first stop in the scouting mission. Approximately twenty lightyears from some ice ball known as Helska. Captain Talkon had prepared several scouting probes to be fitted with hyperspace collars and dispatched to a number of systems that roughly corresponded to the reports that Pax and Commander Delmion had compiled over the past few weeks. They had been launched several days ago and many were already prepared to beam back reports. Pax was nervous to see the detailed findings. He himself had been rattled as well.

Before the final leg of the journey, Pax had received a notice from the War Committee Chair, Selcha Daris, that doubt was now being cast on Pax's theory that the attacks had been initiated by the Empire. A tramp freighter had arrived at Mon Calamari carrying turbolaser parts and some refugees from the far Outer Rim who wanted to the join the Rebellion. They reported to the sector commander that they had been involved in the skirmish near the L5 point of the fifth planet in the Dubrillion system. The crew could not produce any holographic evidence of the attack, but they insisted that the forces had been of a kind not seen in that region of the galaxy. Vessels that had a resemblance to meteors and

 

IC: Moff Tarquin Seti, Chandrilla

---

Things simply were not working.

The Rebellion had a bizarre foothold on Chandrilla -- it was all that fresh air, Tarquin thought. All that democracy. Too much of it. The galaxy was the largest possible experiment in political science in the history of the universe. Time immemorial had proven the lackluster nature of democracy. It lacked dispatch. It afforded a voice and, often, real power to dissident factions. And it made the inferior believe that they could truly rise above their designated station in life. While the grand galactic experiment had proven that democracy was a good complement to the market-based economy, no one could deny the destabilizing effects it had. And, naturally, markets abhorred governments that allowed for structural instabilities.

"There must be a way," Tarquin muttered to himself, looking over the piles of flimsies before him. They all telegraphed the same information to the Moff. The Rebellion had broad sympathy in his domain. Using the heavy hand of violence would not work -- more and more people would be driven into the waiting arms of Alliance recruiters. Decreasing taxes to the lowest possible levels had not worked either -- even before the tax cuts, Chandrilla enjoyed one of the most comfortable GDP's per head in the region. Not to mention that many Chandrillans did not respond well to the tax decreases. They felt that, even with the Empire in charge of the galaxy proper, taxes were the price they paid for a civilized society and were only too willing to pay.

"There [i]must[/i] be a way," Tarquin shouted, pounding his fist on the table.

"Is there anything that... I can do for you, your Eminience?" whispered the soft, supple voice, near to Tarquin's ear.

"Not now," he said coldly. "Leave me. I need to... I must think. I don't have time for... distractions." [i]Even of your particular brand, dear lady.[/i]

Tarquin tried to move his thoughts into constructing a logical framework for attacking the problem.

[i]The general populace has sympathies for the Rebellion. Why? Because they have a history of democracy. They find fault with the Empire because it lacks most rudiments of democracy. Logically, they should not respond well to arguments in favor of empire. Additionally, due to their relatively high level of intelligence, propaganda and disinformation will not be effective against these people. Then how do you stop these people from identifying with the Rebellion. ... Wait. They are sympathetic to the Rebellion because it appears to be the most effective way to voice their displeasure and see results. What if they came to the conclusion that the Rebellion was ineffectual? These are thinking people, they would not support a cause doomed to failure. Especially not if a forum for fostering "positive" change were created. It could be possible to focus the population's attention away from the Rebellion and on to something more constructive...[/i]

"But what? How?"

And suddenly it became clear. Tarquin had to create his own version of the Rebellion. A powerful one. A political one.

Tarquin tapped his desk computer and ordered one of his subordinates to send a message to the Emperor. The Moff always kept shorthand notes of his thoughts and after a few minutes of rearranging them and expanding, it was a decent memorandum that could be forwarded to the Emperor. Most likely it would be filtered through one of the Impeial advisers. Palpatine had left most of the workings of his bureaucracy to these men. Tarquin was not sure how Emperor Jello had structured his inner circle. But, something of this magnitude would surely reach the Emperor -- or at least one of his highest advisers. It must. Tarquin was advocating establishing a real political process on-planet (a dangerous precedent). And he had to let it function on its own. Mayors, city councils, a renewed Chandrillan House. All of it, and even more. Tarquin would (within reason), allow the planet to govern i

 

Jim Halsen
Some Gambling Establishment - Commenor

Jim finished the drink in front of him. He snorted softly. He could go and get another drink, but why bother. It wasnt working. He needed something else.

Work.

Something to get his mind off of ... things. He stood up, nodding towards the bartender. He had paid his tab already. Time to earn more money. Time to feel like he was alive once more. He slowly walked out of the bar, and into the main gambling area. he ignored the bright lights, and slowly walked towards a quieter inn of the casion. Here, tiny tables, with small holo-vids played. Sometimes, a gambler would get himself into abit of debt. They offered jobs, quick and dirty. Something to earn some credits in. He gave a dark laugh. He was sure an ex-Rebel could find some work to do. Always in need of a pilot, or a tracker, or someone not minding get a bit 'dirty'. As he reached into one of his pockets, his fingers touched something smooth. He reached in, and pulled out, both the cred chip he was looking for...and a blade with the name 'Fire Krayts' on it. He shook his head, a sour look falling on his face, as he sat down.

His old unit. His friends. All of them, gone. Gone to the nameless horror that he would not allow himself to remember. With a growl, He shoved the knife back into his pocket, and fed the machine a cred. He then started scanning for work. Something to get his mind busy, and to allow him to purchase more deathsticks. Something to dull the voices.

He scanned the vids, tapping his fingers slightly on the table as he searched.


TAG

 

Class: Soldier
Name: Julian Halivan (various aliases)
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Species: Human
Homeworld: Chandrilla
Spoken Language: Basic
Other Languages: Huttese, Bocce

Appearance
---Height: 5' 10"
---Eye Color: Brown
---Hair/Fur Color: Brown
---Skin Color: White
---Clothing: Varries from mission to mission
---Other: Blaster scar on back left shoulder

Personality: Acerbic,
Habits: Flipping coins between his knuckles
Likes: Whisky, Reading,
Dislikes: War, Politicians, Crime
Talents: Various intelligence-related skills
Weakness: Allergic to bacta
Limitations: Occasional pain due to nerve damage
Racial Attributes: None, standard human


Affiliation: Rebellion
---Rank: Colonel
---Branch: Alliance Intelligence
---Station: Various
---Unit: None
---Position: Senior Intelligence Officer for Field Operations
---Primary Weapons: Hold out blaster, various arrangements for field operations

Personal Ship
---Name: Kanix
---Model: Skipray Blastboat
---Accessories: Intelligence suite, Military-grade shields, Secure communications station, Sensor stealthing


Background:

Julian was an Imperial Army Intelligence Captain before defecting to the Alliance. Several years of Army training were incorporated with a series of missions with Imperial Intelligence. Army decided to keep Halivan within their sights and not let Imperial Intelligence steal yet another promising officer from their ranks. Halivan was quickly promoted up to Captain and dispatched to oversee numerous Army Intelligence operations. After witnessing the sabotage of a civilian dam which destroyed a village, Halivan found he could not reconcile his beliefs with those of the Empire. He made off with a Skipray blastboat, Imperial Intelligence ID codes, and numerous tactics learned under the skillful tutelage of the Empire.

Little is on file about Halivan, even though he has ascended to one of the senior levels in Alliance Intelligence. After his defection he was granted the rank of Captain and assigned to the newly created Field Operations section of Alliance Intelligence. After training several field units and agents, Halivan was noted to be a superior analyst and operative. He was given several high profile assignments (all of which are highly classified). Five years after joining the Alliance, Halivan was promoted to full Colonel and subsequently given the top spot in Field Ops. He spends more time in the field than any other of his fellow SIOs, and often recruits agents and coordinates operations personally. As such, the bureaucratic side of his position is most often handled by his Deputy SIO. The Chief of Intelligence appreciates Colonel Halivan's field expertise and advise but placing such a senior member of the intelligence service in the line of fire so often is not exactly what the Alliance had hoped for.

 

IC: Colonel Julian Halivan [Alias: Turner Barak], Commenor

---

Julian Halivan was used to being other people.

Presently, Turner Barak was dealt into a sabbacc hand going quickly south. The Alliance fronted the Colonel a sizeable amount for performing operations such as these... if they only knew what he spent his stipends for. Off in the distance, across the musty, smoke-filed expanse of smugglers and criminals passed the target. Jim Halsen. The intelligence report had been brief: do not attempt to reconnect with this man. Julian knew better. While this one may never rejoin the Alliance, he would work for creds. And Julian had plenty of them.

"I'm out boys," Turner said, tossing his cards on to the table. "Looks like I'm not the only Idiot, huh?"

Before leaving the table, Halivan tipped his drink back and swallowed the remaining contents. Whisky. Eights years old. The casks were made from fairly interesting wood from one of Commenor's neighbors. Imparted an almost almond taste in the background. Whatever the flavor combinations were, Julian was pleased. He had few vices... but the ones he had...

Letting the glass fall to the table, Turner Barak left the noisy floor toward the inn where his catch had gone. He passed Halsen, noting the location of his holo-station and sat down at a table on the far side of the room. He let out a sigh as he slipped his own cred-chit into the reader and opened up the connection. The systems here were easy to crack -- it would be little fun. In his palm he had a mini-datapad with fairly advanced slicing software. Halivan plugged the pad into the computer and made a direct connection with Halsen's screen in a few moments.

<<[b]You interested in a job? 50 credits if you want to meet me in the Hutt's Head bar, private room 22. 1000 more if you agree to take the job. No blasters.[/b]>>

Halivan was not yet certain of Halsen's skills. Perhaps he would meet the Colonel, perhaps he would need more encouragement, and perhaps the Colonel would be discovered here (all the better). Julian let the ball fall squarely into the younger man's court.

TAG: [b]Ktala[/b][/blockquote]

 

Jim Halsen
Gambling Establishment - Commenor


Jim Halsen fed the cred to the machine in front of him. He had just started scanning for work. So far, nothing was really appealing to him. He might have slipped abit, but he had not hit bottom. Not yet. Most of what he saw, were jobs he wouldnt touch no mater HOW many creds they offered. A few, sounded interesting, but didnt pay enough. Perhaps he could up the price... He tapped his fingers slightly on the table as he searched. Suddenly his monitor flashed, getting his attention, and he look at it frowning slightly.

<<You interested in a job? 50 credits if you want to meet me in the Hutt's Head bar, private room 22. 1000 more if you agree to take the job. No blasters.>>

His fingers kept tapping away, as the expresion fadded from his face. That was not some lone ad. Someone had tagged him directly. Someone, who had to be able to see him, more than likely, in order to know what monitor to send it to. True, someone might have been monitoring his searches...but if that was the case, why not simply post in the adverts?

He gave a dark chuckle, even as he gave a wave, to order another drink. The bartender knew what he drinked by now. He was a regular. He snorted, as he re-read the message. No blaster? Might as well say dont breathe. He wasnt going to go meet some stranger in a private room unarmed. Especially not knowing what kind of 'JOB' was being offered. He didnt do THOSE sort of things.

Hmm. But 50 for meeting, and 1000 more possible. That would keep him in his cups for a good while. So, why did it smell like a trap? He tried to think. WOuld anyone be after him? He didnt think so. But it didnt ease his thoughts. Then again, it could simply be someone checking to see just how GOOD he was. If he had any brain cells still left. As he was giving thoughts to various senarios. His eyes gave a quick sideways glance, and then stared hard at the montior. His eyes glazed, as he stared at the montior. 'Not NOW!' he hissed, not audible, as he tried to ignore the shimmering next to him.

The huge glob that he saw, gave an evil grin, as it sat in the seat next to him. 'Tiny' leared close. 'Whats the matter? Scared of earning some credits? Or is there something ELSE on your mind..?' the figment asked him.

Jim didnt look up, as glared at the monitor. As soon as the bartender delivered a drink, he quickly scooped it up, and downed half of it. 'Leave me alone....' he replied to the phantom. Why did they pester him so much? He heard it laugh. He knew that laugh well. Earl used to be the joker of the group. He frowned once more, as he heard its reply... 'I'm not the one thats doing it, Tagger. Earl replied, tapping the side of its head. Jim closed his eyes, feeling the burn of the drink, as Earl's laughter dissapeared along with his image. After a moment, he opened his eyes again, looking at the monitor. He put down his glass, and began to type furiously.

<<Why wait? You're here. I'm here. Tell me something, that catches my interest. What kind of job?>>

He grined as he pressed the send key. There werent too many beings in the place right now. And he wasnt about to let on how much he was interested in the money. He leaned back now, a smirk on his face, as he scanned the room. Now it was his turn to check out the talent.



TAG: DarthSeti5

 

IC: Colonel Julian Halivan[Alias: Turner Barak], Commenor

---

This one had some degree of intelligence. And he clearly was no neophyte merc. And now, Halivan was certain that Halsen would attempt to flush him out. So be it. It was a necessary skill in the trade and a sign of a level of credibility. Halivan touched the bottom of his jacket and pressed lightly on a control key on the inside.

Halivan waited until a waitress was about to pass him to tap out a one word reply:

<<[b]Imperial.[/b]>>

Then he pulled the datapad out of the jack, leaving a comlink transmitter attached. Inserting a datacard the station went black with a "[b]OUT OF ORDER[/b]" signal flashing in Basic, Huttese, and Bocce and the terminal keyboard froze. Alliance Intelligence might not be as advanced as ImpIntel, but they had some tricks up their sleeves -- the datacard not the least of them as Julain prepared to stand up, holding the corner of his jacket between his thumb and forefinger. Before leaving, Julian tucked the comlink and its wire as out of sight as he could, but the cord still was fairly obvious to a more than passing observer.

As the waitress passed between him and Halsen, Julian tapped the control key again and the light nerf-skin color of his jacket faded into a much deeper, black tone. Tricks up sleeves and down jackets as well. And a few more to spare barring any unforeseen incidents. But Julian was not interested in loosing Halsen, he wanted to be found. Just not to easily.

There were few people in the room, so Halivan tried his best to keep people and objects between him and Halsen as he quickly moved a few tables away from his station. Halivan had the advantage of knowing his target already and where he was seated. Sitting down at another station (and bringing up the weather on Commenor), Halivan tapped out another message from his datapad which would be relayed back to the station.

<<[b]On-planet. Weapons cache. I want it. You big enough to handle Imps?[/b]>>

The signal burst through the air, into the comlink, through the station and back to Halsen's terminal. Halivan could not risk turning around to see if the target was still there and it would take more than a few seconds to hack the casino's security systems and use their cams to track Halsen. And it was possible that he could garner more attention from the locals than he wanted.

He pocketed the datapad and set it to vibrate-alert in the event that Halsen was [b]very[/b] good and found out that he had slaved it to the other station. Whether or not he could break the datacard encryption was another story... Julian's datapad could crack it in a few minutes with the right program and as astromech on the [i]Kanix[/i] could make quick work of it. The comlink had to have a direct connection to the datapad to send and receive messages and that left a dangerous opening to Julian in the right hands.

TAG: [b]Ktala[/b][/blockquote]

 

IC - Commander Erias Delmion
Sentinel Station

Watching as the last troopers filed onboard the Action VI transport below him, Erias Delmion pulled his jacket collar closed. He always forgot how cold it got in hangar bays, even in the control tower two levels above. The transport below, Rebel Sunrise, was the latest in a long line of transports moving troops from the base out to staging areas throughout his command, ready to strike at Imperial targets. After so long, the war was finally moving up a gear - a gear that, until very recently, Delmion had thought would never be engaged.

It had taken time, but orders had been relayed; intelligence networks had stepped up their activites, Rebel cells had been activated, all Rebel bases and military units were on alert. The final confirmations from the outlying units had come in only an hour ago.

And not only organising his own forces - he had spent days locked in negotiations with several factions that he hoped would support them against the Empire. The signs were promising, but many would not commit without proff of the Alliance's intentions and convictions. Well, the operation he had authorised Commander Akama to launch should see to that . . .

"Sir?" The voice of the Landing Signals Officer seated to his right interrupted his thoughts. "Rebel Sunrise is requested permission to launch."

Delmion glanced back at the transport, loaded with brave souls - men and women, human and alien. He knew that death lay out there for many - maybe all - of them.

"Granted. May the Force be with them."

---

[b]IC - Major Garr Faltonni[/b]
[i]Rebel Reprisal[/i]

[blockquote]The orders from Commissioner Dellos had come down, and Faltonni had to admit that he was surprised just how quickly he and his team were going to see some type of action, even if it was only extended recon. Still, orders were orders, and inactivity always chafed him. Okay, so a cold weather mission wasn't his idea of fun, but at least it was fresh air and a chance to stretch his legs. And Natti had been hoping for a chance to give the gunship an extended run to test a new set of thrusters.

Faltonni assembled his team on time, dressed in arctic uniforms of white and grey, with modified plastoid armour encasing them that would be fitted with thermal regulators just before insertion. They definitely stood out among the rank and file of the frigate, and definately outshone the officers. With a grin, Faltonni suddenly realised why Imperial Grand Admirals wore white.

"Commissioner Dellos? Alpha Team reporting as ordered."[/blockquote]

[b]Tag: DS5[/b]

[hr]

[b]IC - Commander Akama[/b]
[i]Star Cruiser[/i] Cobra, [i]Greater Javin[/i]

[blockquote]Commander Akama, commanding officer of the newly organised [i]Cruiser Group One(Outer Rim)[/i], stood on the command deck of his ship, reviewing the tactical hologram of his target. His large eyes drank in every detail, then swivelled to frame his executive officer, Colonel Jiit, a Devaronian.

"Is everything prepared?"

"Yes, Sir. All ships are standing by, all squadrons reported combat readiness. The [i]Cobra[/i] is fully prepped and ready for combat."

"Good. Element One will leap to hyperspace in two minutes. Element Two is to stand off and await orders."

Akama returned his attention to the tactical hologram, with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Akama had seen combat before, but this battle would, in effect, be the opening shot in the Alliance's campaign in the Outer Rim. And it would show several independent groups that the Alliance was capable and worthy of their support. But Commander Delmion's orders were at the forefront of his thoughts - engage the enemy only if faced with even or lesser numbers. The theory was to conserve resources and increase the chances of victory and decrease casualties. But to Akama, limiting the potential field of engagements seemed wrong. And Akama knew that, eventually, they would have to hit targets with larger force

 

IC: High Commissioner Pax Dellos, Rebel Reprisal

---

The team was ready. Pax was not.

Walking up before Alpha Team, Pax felt just short of ridiculous in his cold-weather gear. Like he was about to go off and play Rebellion with school friends before going home for supper. But there was no home for him or any of the rebels on this ship and even the galaxy. They had to make their home. And it was missions like these, and the actions of millions of Alliance supports and sympathizers, that were required to build a new home. A new galaxy.

"... a better galaxy. That is our mission. That is what we defend with our honor, our courage, and our lives. So help us God," Pax said, concluded some short remarks before beginning his brief. He would, and very well could, have continued for much longer, but time might be a factor in this excursion and Pax would not let lofty language get in the way of a potentially crucial mission.

"Before we depart for Helska, I would like to take a few brief minutes to describe the current situation and some new development s that I have been made aware of since our reversion. As you know, disturbing reports from the frontiers of our influence have been piling up over the past few weeks and months concerning a growing... unease in this region of the galaxy. The linchpin of these reports was a Mon Calamari detachment that was lost several weeks ago to unknown forces. Until now, High Command could only speculate as to the nature of the threat. I, personally, believed it to be of an Imperial nature until recently. New data has emerged," Pax continued, pressing a key on his mini-datapad bring up a holo of the report that he had received. Copies were sent to the team's data storage center for their review at that moment as well.

"Reasonably reliable sources have come forward detailing a threat that uses vessels that resemble debris or asteroids. High Command now believes that a large-scale pirate force is now operating out of this region and may be creating forces that can hide in plain sight as it were in the form of this space junk and then attack with the element of surprise. However, as with our previous assessments, this is all speculation. As this report targets Dubrillion, and our probes will be in range within a day, that will be the next target of our inquiry. Scattered intelligence has also linked attacks and strange sightings with he Helska system, though they have dwindled in the past few weeks. If there is an unknown force and they have abandoned the system, it is possible that we may be able to uncover some remnants of their operations in our sweep."

Pax shut down the holo and pocketed the datapad. "I cannot stress enough the serious nature of this mission. Whether an Imperial, pirate, or threat of another nature has emerged as a new force in this area is a danger to the Alliance's long-term goals on the Outer Rim. I have full faith in you and your commander, and I know that no matter what we uncover in the dark recesses of the far Outer Rim, we will have nothing to fear under your capable hands. Major Faltonni, we are ready to depart at your leisure."

TAG: [b]cavalier_one[/b][/blockquote]

 

Jim Halsen
Gambling Establishment - Commenor

Jim sat back, swirling the liquid in his glass, as he watched the folks within the room. A few folks got up. Some left. Some simply moved around. He smirked.

Suddenly, his screen flashed a word.

<<Imperial.>>

Sticks face set in a neutral look, but his fingers began tapping on the table once again. A quick flurry of taps on his keyboard. He may not be a slicer by trade, but he had learned a few tricks, dealing with the Rebels and such. One of the guys in his unit, was Intel, and he showed them a few tricks. It had saved his life a few times.

As he reached into his pocket another message flashed at him.

<<On-planet. Weapons cache. I want it. You big enough to handle Imps?>>

Sticks slmaed down his drink. A weapons cache? That sounded weak. If the man knew where the cache was, what did he need him for? To fly it out perhaps? He doubted it. And how did they plan to move it? Unless he planned to blow it up. This had the stink of Intel to him. Regular grunts would have a team. Unless they were insane. Still, Jim let the drink roll around in his mouth. That was right up his alley. Not like he had much on his social calendar anyway. But this was either Rebel Intel, looking for a quick jack attack..or Imps looking for troublemakers. Time to figure out which one.

Jim stood up, and leaned against the wall. He tapped the enter key. His message replied back.

<<You want it? Then you have to pay. Imps are canned idiots. You want it gone, thats easy. You want it moved, thats another issues. What are YOU talking?>>

Jim now paid close attention to the others, as he laid his jacket down, and walked over towards the bar, to get another drink. He could feel the slow burn in his body. Oh yeah, the juice. He lived for this stuff. The exictment. The pulse pounding addrenlian rush. He grabed a glass, and then walked back, and sat back down. He took his time, as he did. Once he made it back to his seat, he replayed the video feed, of the movement within the bar, that he had purposely ignored.

Time to see what was real.

TAG: DarthSeti5

 

Darth Stygius

Cinnagar

It was not long after he had finally regained his bracers and contained the amount of darkside energy radiating from him, that he felt a new presence orbiting the planet. In fact he felt several presences, one of them strong in the Force. He could only come to one conclusion as to who they were and why they had suddenly appeared.

So the Jedi were alerted to my re-emergance after all, he concluded and looked up at the stars in the nightsky. He had no real concerns about them. He knew that these Jedi were unaware of what they were hunting. As proven many times in the past, they would be arrogant and the first wave would fall mercilessly to their own ignorance and naivety. In the process he would seduce a few to his own side and use them against their former comrades.

But first, he would have to finish gathering his property before he chose to confront the Jedi. So that meant he had to stay away from them until then. Which he believed would not be all too difficult to do. They had no idea where he was and even if they did, they would not know where he would go. So long as he kept these bracers activated and he hid his presence in the Force he could remain hidden on this world until they gave up and left.

And should he encounter them, he had a few tricks up his sleeve he could use to deal with them.

TAG: Jello

 

Darth Stygius

Cinnagar

He had traveled a few kilometers away from the museum by the time he sensed an immediate threat. Stygius paused and straigthened his form as he narrowed his eyes, stretching out in the Force and feeling his surroundings. Somehow they had found him despite his precautions. He closed in on himself again and spun around on his heel.

The Jedi were surprisingly cautious. He had expected them to come down and begin the chase but instead they sent soldiers to do their work for them. It was not their usual mode of operation when it came to dealing with darksiders. But he understood that several thousand years had passed since his imprisonment by the Jedi and he understood that they would change somewhat over that long of period.

He just had not expected them to act more like a Dark Jedi.

Although he was concerned in the change of tactics, the fact that they can now detect and follow him was a higher priority he needed to deal with. He had to know how they were able to trail him and he needed to deal with the soldiers too. Therefore he needed to find the leader of these men.

He would head straight for the nearest threat and gleam the necessary knowledge from him and once he learned where their leader was and what he looked like, he would learn how they were following him from that man. Although he was weaponless, he still had the Force.

TAG: Jello