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

IC: Boatswain / Deck Hand Charlie Watertin
Hanger Bay, Actualize Station, Northern Stretch (Kingdom of Jod)


"Oh really? And what bright idea is that!?" Charlie asked as he ducked back behind the crate with his DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol, reloading it at the moment. The "super soldiers" of the Strategic Command Army were busy holding Beast forces back from critical areas of the station and escorting the Royal Family off station; what soldiers left, mainly King's Army Soldiers and Naval Guards, were tasked with holding less important areas of the station and acting as flank protection units. The Jod must of shifted their view from how the prophecy was going to work without the Mercs having a dedicated warship...or maybe they were too focused on the Royal Family to care about sending elite SCA Troopers to the rescue of their own prophecy.

"That we surrender?" Russel Cook asked, trying to reload the nearby fallen King's Army Soldier's musket-style blaster rifle.

"Oh really?" Charlie asked, looking up in between a crack between both crates to see a line of four King's Army Soldiers deliver a volley into a Beast horse up ahead, only to be quickly overtaken moments later by the superior numbers. "You said yesterday you examined one of these things a few months back. You really think they can be reasoned with?"

"Well...no. But it was a thought," Russel said, rising above the crates to aim and fire the rifle. While the blaster's kick was brutal, the Doctor's aim was on as a Beast soldier fell backwards almost half the distance of the hanger away with the powerful rifle's delivery.

"Not bad for a Doctor," Charlie said, adding as he fired several shots towards the advancing Beast horse ahead, "Ever try your hand at becoming a soldier?"

"I don't take life lightly," Cook responded, "I'm a Doctor, not a soldier."

"Pacifistic," Charlie said chuckling, as he looked up the ramp to the Johnny Boy as two King's Army soldiers came running down it, a Beast behind them, "Not on my ship! I just put her back together! Get down you fools!" The two soldiers feel down the ramp at the command and Watertin filled the Beast soldier with multiple shots to the upper chest and neck area. Armored skin or not, the Beast fell to the ground riddled with smoking hole, "Nothing too tough for a DL-44," the Boarswain commented as he looked to the two soldiers, "Secure this ramp after we go up! Shut it and get your butts on board. Savy?"

The two soldiers nodded as Charlie and the Doctor ramp up the ramp. Soon, the two soldiers followed, the ramp closing and locking behind them. In the corridor, a King's Army Soldier was bravely holding back a Beast soldier was tearing his throat open with his rifle across his chest. Charlie popped the animal with several shots to the back of the head and watched the Beast soldier fall to the ground. As Charlie walked past the soldier, he said, "Your welcome. You three, secure this corridor. Nothing gets in or out. Savy?"

"Yes, sir!" Reported the three King's Army soldiers.

Charlie grabbed his comlink, "Nick, how you holding up son?"

"I got the engines online. I've just never flown---"

"Nick, you there?" Charlie asked, picking up the pace as the kid's sudden disappearance off of the comlink.

"Your not going anywhere, mercenary!" Spoke a new voice, "This station is under attack and we need ever soul and vessel for the protection of the Queen and Royal Family."

"Funny," Charlie replied, "How you ain't fighting to save your deck, Deck Officer Hayes. A lot of good men are dying out there, while your safe and sound in a armored ship."

"Don't---ahhh!"

"Hey Charlie?" Came Nick's voice again.

"What did you do to him, kid?" Charlie asked.

"Don't think a fifteen year old kid can't fight back."

"True that kid," Charlie said, "We'll be there in a few. And don't worry, I've flown my fair share of ships in my day. I don't think the Johnny Boy is going to be much different."



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


Bridge, Johnny Boy


"You were saying?" Russel Cook asked as he ran from station to station, trying to keep everything balanced.

"Well, if this reads rights, we'll heading towards that Jod fleet over there," Nick said from the sensors station..."I think."

"Well," Charlie corrected from the Helm station, "I thought it would be easy. Hey you, Jod, what can you give me?" Charlie said to the one Jod crew member, a technician, on the communication station. Aboard the ship, a handful of Jod technicians and King's Army soldiers manned what stations they could.

Bugger, Jason Lasso's R2 unit, manned the gunnery station.

A massive Beast attack fleet had somehow got through the Northern Stretch, no doubt sustaining heavy damage and losses from the look of their vessels. But it was still massive and enough to overwhelm station defenses. While the majority of the Jod fleet was off doing scouting enemy Confederacy of Regions positions in the Kingdom of Jod, the handful of vessels left did what they could, ultimately doing delaying actions to prevent heavy losses while giving the key assets time to escape off station. Jod forces scouting COR positions had arrived finally and in strength, but their presence was merely to defend the retreating Jod forces and give cover as the station evacuated. A full on engagement with Beast forces was trying to be avoided.

"They're evacuating the station," the technician said, "General retreat back to Staging Area Nine-Nine-Three."

"Where that Jod fleet is?" Charlie asked, seeing the station hang in between two massive fleets, with a scattered defense fleet for the station in the middle; the Johnny Boy had looped around back towards the Jod fleet and where a retreating line of Jod capital ships behind the station----probably the Queen's royal escort---was headed as well.

"Yes, sir," replied the technician.

"And your sure this auto pilot is taking us there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, take it off."

"That's the Captain's job, first flight," Russel said.

"Well, the Captain ain't here, is he now? He's being some hero on Port Haven. And anyways, I haven;t touched his chair yet. Well anyhow," Charlie took a swig of rum from a flask.

"Your drinking on shift!" Russel objected.

"Yes. I want to forget about what I'm about to do," Charlie said, the Jod technician nodding that auto control was off, "I'm taking us directly towards that big Beast dreadnought looming towards out Port. I have a theory and I want to test it out."

"But that's crazy!" Russel objected.

"No, it's only half crazy. That auto-pilot was going to take us directly in front of it. If I'm going to die, I want to test out my theory first by flying under it."

"Your nuts," Russel said in protest.

"Thank you," Charlie replied.


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


Outskirts of Northern Stretch


"Well, that's one way to deal with a Beast invasion fleet," Charlie said, folding his arms over his chest as he looked out the bridge of the Johnny Boy at the expanding ball of flame and debris that once was Actualize Station, "Never thought the Jod had that station rigged to blow like that. But, that took care of the Beast fleet for sure. Lure them in with he Red Rock, then blow the bits out of the place. Beast survivors?"

"Nothing," Nick said, "But a few starfighters, scout ships, and a handful of corvettes and frigates on the flanks of the fleet. Jod forces are moving in to clean them up, too. It appears their not risking another run in through the Northern Stretch and are choosing to stay and fight."

"But how did they get this far?" Asked the Jod.

"Because the COR had a spy in your ranks," Charlie said, "I don't know who. But until we know who, the Jod are at risk of being discovered by the COR. That Beast Dreadnought didn't fire on us because these Beasts were programmed to just elimnate the Jod, nothing else."

"Programed?" Asked the tech.

"Yea, ever read your history? A Philip the Wise later turned Darth Maximums? But I doubt it was this Maximums fellow."

"And how do you know?" Nick asked.

"Because ever since I got stuck with you on rebuilding this ship, you've been talking about two things: history and women. Since you have no luck with the female species, I had to listen to something. So I chose history."

"Oh, so me?" Nick asked.

"Bingo. I became a mini-historian in a handful of weeks. You said last Imperial reports had Maximums dead. So, assuming those reports are real, then who is running this show? It sure ain't the COR."

"Are you sure?" The Jod technician asked.

"He does have a point," Nick added, "Because I really don't know who ordered that attack. But it does seem a bit too bold for even Maximums. Someone sent that Beast fleet through the Northern Stretch on purpose to destroy as much of it as purpose."

"Okay, so who for the COR have access codes to Maximums' secret army?"

"But yet again, who says it's the COR?" Nick replied.

"I give up!" Charlie said, "Lets hitch a ride with one of those King IIs and get to Port Haven already."


No Tag

 

IC: Jensen Visak
Location: Deck 14 Quad Laser Turret

Jensen fired at a TIE fighter that was strafing the hull of the Star Destroyer clipping its solar array, sending it spining off, ending its life against one of the gravity domes. He started to scan the battlefield looking for another target to occupy his attention. Rex was doing a good job of picking targets of oppourtunity, and he willingly ablidged him in destroying them. A wistle came from the droid next to him as he shifted to his next target. He read the screen to see what the little droid was saying.

Rex was trying to tell him that the Nebulon-B frigate was getting periously close. He looked up to see the capital ship enourmous compared to how it looked at the begining of the battle. The Eleventh Hour was firing at the central spar, the most obvious spot to attack. The "thinnest" part of the ship, it would easily split the ship in half if it was hit with the shields down.

Until then, it continued to pour fire in the Interdictor, turbolasers rocking the shields and the ship as they hit. Then one final barrage hit the shields, and alarms and klaxons filled the ship as damage control announced that the shield were now down on the Destroyer, "Shields are down!"

Then another turbolaser lanced out from the frigate and hit one of the quad-laser turrets near him, bouncing him clear out of the chair. He landed akwardly next to the chair, swearing loudly as he hit his left hand soundly on the side of the chair. The man in the turret might be dead, but there might be others that need my help. He started geting up, nursing his hand, and made his way out of the turret room. He hated to leave the turret, but he wasnt looking to die in the same manner as the other gunner. "Come on Rex, lets get out of here, I may be willing to fight for the Mercs, but I'm not going to sit there as a easy target for those frigate gunners." He took one last look out of the viewport and saw a shuttle being strafed by another turret as it touched down, nose first, onto the Interdictor in the same place that the turbolaser had hit. "We are being boarded! We gotta get out of here."

Jensen opened the door to the hallway and was greated by the acrid smell of smoke and ozone from the turbolaser blast. He coughed a little as he looked up the corridor both ways. He knew the turbo lifts were to the left, but that was also in the same direction as the boarding craft. "Sithspit!" He was going to have to try to make it. He didnt know the ship well enough to feel comfortable forging new paths.

Pulling the blaster pistol from his holster, he checked the power levels, wishing he had brought the other one he had left in the cockpit of his ship. Its too late for wishes. Now its time for action. He motioned for Rex to follow him, he could see the arc welder extended out from the droids casing. Gotta give the droid credit, his heart is in the right place. If he had a heart that is.

Making his way up the corridor towards the turbolifts, he could hear the roar of the plasma torches cutting their way through the hull. The deck plates shuddered as they finally pierce the hull, ready to expell the troops packed inside. Jensen wasnt sure how many would be on board, or if they would even be moving in his direction. So, he kept moving looking for the turbolifts that he took on the way up from the hanger, making sure to check each corner before he turned it.

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Captain Pavel, Aurora Cradmoon, Mako, and Delicate Delinquent hangar, respectively
Locations: Whendyll System outskirts


The Mon Calamari captain's eyes flicked towards a countdown he had going. Though he wanted to hear from the Z-95, after ten seconds, he was ordering the retreat back to the interdictor and the Jod destroyer.

Not that this operation was getting too rich for his blood; that boat had sailed, that Katana Fleet was already lost in hyperspace.

"Mako this is Blade Dancer, all is well on my end. Just a little rattled. There's a survivor in the debris field, transmitting a distress call from ship Snow White. Whoever is there needs immediate extraction. I've located the source, please send personnel recovery craft and a medical team, possible casualties."

Pavel nodded. He had heard of her. That was the ship believed lost when the...he blinked in surprise. He had already forgotten what that exploded Jod warship had been called.

"Blade Dancer, full copy. We will call it in, see what can be mustered." He studied his tactical holo, the translucent light show near to his left knee. He had an icon for the snub-fighter, but nothing yet for the alledged stricken ship. Probably too much wreckage. "See how close you can get to her, without endangering yourself. Let me know what you can see of lights, areas open to space, that sort of thing. We can relay that to the rescue team. Mako out." He switched frequency to the DD. "We have a survivor in the wreckage field. That Snow White freighter you asked about ages ago? We'll need a rescue team, either to board the craft, or to bring it with us, given that we are about to leave. Over."

"Understood, Mako. Recovery assets being notified."

Pavel was surprised how professional that sounded. "Helm, take us over to Blade Dancer. Slowly."

* * * *
Delicate Delinquent TIE Hangar

Looking through the armoured ceriglase of the Mobile Command Base's cockpit, Aurora Cradmoon watched through two sets of magnetic atmo-containment shield as various starfighters and the occasional shuttle rose up through the interdictor's belly aperture, and found themselves a space to park in the main hangar.

The bridge kept her informed on what was about to enter, probably so that she didn't blow any friendlies away.

Part of her felt insulted at the implied baby-sitting, part of her just accepted it.

When she got her self-confidence back, she could try to re-earn their trust.

Tag: Masha

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Whendyll System Outskirts, near Snow White and Mako


"See how close you can get to her, without endangering yourself. Let me know what you can see of lights, areas open to space, that sort of thing. We can relay that to the rescue team. Mako out."

"Roger," Masha said, beginning to maneuver to get a clear view of the view port on the wrecked chunk of freighter. "Mako, there are a few lights inside what's left of the bridge," her worries about the crew grew in her stomach. "Who ever sent that transmission may be unconscious," her voice began to shake, "life support could be failing."

Masha eased Blade Dancer upwards attempting to see over the console. Unbuckling her crash webbing and letting the 0g lift her out of her seat, she strained to see inside, her helmet gently bumping into the canopy. Reaching down she banked carefully so that her fighter's s-foils wouldn't obstruct the rest of the wreckage, the wing slowly moving from her view. What the blazes am I trying to do here... She thought, realizing she must look ridiculous. Readjusting and squinting to see in the dim lit bridge, there he was.

"I see someone!" Masha said forgetting her radio etiquette in her excitement, the feeling died quickly, remembering what his fate could be. "Mako, confirm one possible casualty. Though I can't tell if he is still alive, time is of the essence."

TAG: @Sith-I-5

OOC: I'm using the term casualty as a way to say injured or dead. If I remember correctly, it's just for simplicity's sake over radio. And he is Sal Brookes.

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Sickbay, Light-class Destroyer House of Vimal.

Taab had done well to ignore the"celebration" upon their rather unorthodox arrival upon the Destroyer. He was a fighter, a warrior, a soldier. He didn't fight for accolades, or honor or even money (though he did like to get paid). No, he fought because it was the only thing he knew how to do, because it was what he had done his entire life, and he was sure he would someday die doing it. It was the only life he had ever known, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Instead of take part in the celebration, or even acknowledge it any way he instead took stock of the Mercs that had come aboard with him. It was something the Captain didn't have the time to look after, he was needed on the bridge, so Taab assumed responsibility for it. It was a role he easily slid into, though truth be told (and Taab always told himself the truth, even if he lied to others) he didn't care whether any of the other Mercs were injured or even killed. It was a cold truth, but there it was. They had no value to him beyond that as military assets, and he wouldn't hesitate to order any of them to their deaths (or kill them himself) if it would further his true mission.

Still he took control of them and the medics and ensured that they all made it down to the sickbay. fortunately they were all more or less ambulatory. Al'kesh had a decent size cut on his head that was oozing silver blood down his face. Taab could tell even without close examination that this would need stitches to close. Most of the others seemed to have bumps and bruises, though it was possible that Mr. Biggs had also broken his arm. Taab fingered the medpack he kept on his belt. It was a basic kit, but it contained a Verpine carapace knitter* that could heal up the man's bone in under five minutes. Taab doubted the pain would be worth it to him though. Probably best to let the real doctors do their own job.

Once in sickbay Taab moved among the Mercs crew as they were treated. He snatched the small notepad he kept behind his left plate and noted their injuries and status for his own report to the skipper. Nothing was life threatening, and they should all be ready for action soon. No sooner had he finished than Lasso walked in.

"Chief," Lasso immediately singled out Taab "How is the crew holding up? And any word from your son, yet? I haven't received any reports of any our forces leaving Port Haven...or of the DD for that matter."

Taab stiffened slightly at the mention of his son. He hadn't heard from him once they had closed their private channel. Hopefully he had made orbit with the Crusader and was either preparing to land on one of the Jod vessels or was making his way through hyperspace to some sort of rally point. He ignored that for now though "Crew is holding up well, at least physically." He tore off the piece of flimsi that he had noted their injuries down on and handed it to the Captain.

"Mentally, they have been through a lot. Some of these men were never meant for combat, especially of the sort we saw down there." Taab shrugged mentally, not telling the Captain what he really thought of these weak areutiise (outsiders) and their ability to handle the unexpected. "They didn't expect a recruiting drive to turn into being chased through the jungles." Taab fingered the scorch mark in the middle of his breastplate, the one caused by the blaster bolt that the Emperor's Hand had deflected back at him. He hand't expected that either, but he was more used to dealing with such violent... deviations.., from the plan.

"They'll be all right. Some will use it, others may crack. Too early to tell who will do what just yet."

He glanced back at them all now, Al'kesh's stitches were done now, and the blood washed from his face. His red skin shone under the bright lights in the bay and he had an evil grin on his face. He wouldn't crack as a result of this Taab was sure. He looked back to Lasso.

"I haven't heard anything about anyone outside of this lot yet. Hopefully the others are getting ready to beat feet and get us all the shab away from here." Looking into the Skipper's eyes now he took note of the dried blood on his face. Superficial wound (if you could even call it that) Taab deduced, but it should still be cleaned up. Taab gestured towards Lasso's left leg now, "Since you're here, you should get that looked at."

TAG: Bravo

OOC: *Found on page 71, The Bounty Hunter Code.

 

IC: Various npcs, mine and one of Bravos, Cimmerian, Port Haven beach, jungle, Delicate Delinquent, respectively

Thanks to superior anti-gravity and anti-concussion fields, the crew aboard the Cimmerian heavy cruiser were not wholly aware of the dire state of their situation, though from the computer-voiced public address warnings of Turbulence Turbulence, clued many of them in that they had entered the atmosphere of Port Haven for some reason.

Those at the front of the ship never got any wiser, but those amidships and near the back figured something was awry when they were frown forwards by a horrendous screalling impact into the waters fifteen miles off Port Haven's western seaboard, splitting the hull vertically down twelve of the fourteen decks, frigid grey-azure waters surging up corridors to batter against closing blast doors and, swallowing crewmen and women as they ran and paddled for their very survival!

* * * *
Outside the ship

A rectangular wash of white foam expanded out from the sinking ship, quickly forming a circle of waves in all directions that started to gather speed and rise above the water surface.

Hostilities had ceased on the beach, by apparently unilateral consent.

Cries of "Cease fire, cease fire, prep for evac'," ran up and down the Imperial lines, while news of the Lasso pickup, and the subsequent withdrawal order had been heard by the kneeling Captain Maximus MacArthur on the damp sand, while the Sentinel-class shuttles, the Abby Schuto, and the Kraken, the latter of which had delivered half his company in the first place, glided in from the sea, their forward boarding ramps already lowered and gaping whilst behind them, the rumbling wall of water was still rising to the heavens.

It was going to be close.

The Kraken arrived first, ploughing froth into the shallow waters before stopping.

"Move move move!" Maximus waved his men aboard the craft and turned to look at the Imperial troopers and stormtroopers, who divided their attention between keeping wary gazes upon the Strategic Command Army rookies, and the first Lambda-class shuttle coming in for them.

* * * *
Mekuun Hoverscout EH-1

The Monster Squad stormtrooper, DLT-5921, was half out the hatch, waving down the angular dark-grey flier that was Imperial Dropship Transport to get closer.

He ducked back into the cabin and gestured at the Emperor's Hand, "Ma'am, this is our ride. We need to go now."

* * * *
Delicate Delinquent - Deck Fourteen

The re-programmed R2 unit Willow had largely been useless for GRF purposes, but now, she transmitted the view of the largely empty Deck Fourteen corridor up to the bridge, empty apart from some flashing floor-level red LEDs, a lot of smoke, then Jenson, sliding out of a left-hand door to pound up the corridor away from her.

Seconds later, a circle of metal dropped out of the ceiling, spinning like a dropped plate on the floor, then beings in white armour dropped the distance to the floor, knees bending into squat position to absorb the impact.

A red bolt from one of their blasters flashed at the droid, taking her dome off.

The bridge's sole view of that deck dissolved to static.

The sole Kings Army soldier on the deck was the young Private Jenkins, one of the platoon that had been aboard the Javin Bucket Acclamator shadowport.
One of only two survivors of the rear-guard action against invading stormtroopers, it looked like he was going to have to go through that sith all over again.

Behind him, and round the T-corner from the corridor that served the upper hull's guns, was a bank of three closed turbolift banks.

The Private waved Jensen closer, and leaned against the corner of the bulkhead as two laser bolts flashed past, pitting medallion-sized flaming pits into the wall behind him.

Jenkins peered into the smoke, but could barely see anything. At a sudden thought, he probed the hand that wasn't holding the brown wooden stock of his his LR-model 2 blaster rifle, into the knapsack suspended by his thighs. "Hold on, I've got a pair of motion detection goggles in here," he supplied, more to himself than Visak, "ACK!"

A red line appeared across his throat, neatly bisecting his Adams Apple, and a small spatter of red hit the wall that he was leaning against.
Jenkins gagged and dropped to his knees while clutching his throat, while one of the turbolift door slid aside, revealing an empty lift compartment, sterile-white with a single light in the ceiling.

A second turbolift pinged, two Go Team soldiers in helmeted blue and gold vacsuits emerging high and low, one standing, one kneeling, E-11 blaster carbines sweeping to cover Jensen.
"Freeze! What's going on up here?"

Tag: Jensen, Mara Jade, potentially Maximus

 

IC: Kilo Typhon
Location: Underneath the Delicate Delinquent

"That was some nice flying, Sev," Kilo Typhon said to the astromech droid mounted behind him.

"Thank you," the black-and-orange clad droid beeped in reply. Its translated message was displayed through the heads-up-display on the inside of Kilo's bulky orange helmet. "And I begrudgingly admit that you shot well."

Inside his helmet, Kilo grinned widely. "Geez, Sev, I believe I just heard you give me a compliment. That's new." As he spoke he looked out through the canopy of his X-Wing toward the cloud of debris that remained of the second attacking TIE Fighter. While its pilot had been good enough to dodge Kilo's initial salvo, he was not so lucky when Kilo and Sev got a second crack at it.

"I must give credit where it is due," Sev beeped. "Even if I do not like it."

"Atta boy, Sev," Kilo replied with an even wider smile. "Maybe you aren't so bad after all."

Another fighter seemed to limp by outside Kilo's craft. It was heavily damaged from whatever battle it had been engaged in only minutes before. When the order went out for all craft to return to the, Kilo decided he would wait outside and do his best to watch their backs and continue to protect the underside of the ship.

"Hey, Sev," Kilo called out. He waited for it to beep a reply and then continued. "We're staying down here protecting the ship all noble-like. When we get onboard, we're probably going to get some medals or something. There's gonna be women from engineering to the bridge waiting for me."

Sev beeped a reply that sounded an awful lot like snickering. Kilo did not read the text that popped up on his display and continued. "Don't give me that, Sev. Stop being so self-conscious. You'll find someone. Maybe it's on this ship. I'm sure there is some lady-droid ready to cross circuits with you no problem."

Lines of text popped up on Kilo's HUD. Translated messages from Sev's frantic beeping and booping toward the rear of the X-Wing. Kilo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice. "And you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

More and more lines of text showed up on the Heads-Up-Display. "I deserve better than this," Kilo said in his best feminine voice as he gunned the throttle. The X-Wing shot upward toward the Delicate Delinquent. "We need to take a break. I need some space," he continued with a short chuckle.

A few minutes later, the craft settled down onto its landing gear alongside another X-Wing. Kilo looked toward the other pilot and saw that he was frantically climbing out of his own cockpit. "Hey!" Kilo called out. "What's the rush?"

"We've been boarded," the pilot responded with a frown. "A few pilots are going to fortify the entrance of the hangar, just in case whoever is aboard tries to make their way here. Want to help?"

Kilo shook his head and jumped out of the cockpit of his own craft. Sev dropped onto its wheels beside him and beeped something quickly. "Yeah, Sev," Kilo agreed as he turned back to the pilot. "My droid and I are going to go see if we can help. Sitting back and waiting really isn't our style. Good luck in here."

Tag: Sith-I-5

 

OOG: Sith, I will get to Mara Jade ASAP. I need to head to Church.





IC: Jason Lasso
Corridors, Light-class Destroyer House of Vimal


"Crew is holding up well, at least physically." He tore off the piece of flimsi that he had noted their injuries down on and handed it to the Captain.

Lasso looked through the list and continued to listen to Taab speak, "Mentally, they have been through a lot. Some of these men were never meant for combat, especially of the sort we saw down there." Taab shrugged mentally, not telling the Captain what he really thought of these weak areutiise (outsiders) and their ability to handle the unexpected. "They didn't expect a recruiting drive to turn into being chased through the jungles." Taab fingered the scorch mark in the middle of his breastplate, the one caused by the blaster bolt that the Emperor's Hand had deflected back at him. He hand't expected that either, but he was more used to dealing with such violent... deviations.., from the plan.

"They'll be all right. Some will use it, others may crack. Too early to tell who will do what just yet."

"We all need a break," Lasso summarized, "And some will break," Jason watched Taab look back to Al'kesh; when Taab turned back around, Lasso concluded, "Others will get stronger because of it."

"I haven't heard anything about anyone outside of this lot yet. Hopefully the others are getting ready to beat feet and get us all the shab away from here." Looking into the Skipper's eyes now he took note of the dried blood on his face. Superficial wound (if you could even call it that) Taab deduced, but it should still be cleaned up. Taab gestured towards Lasso's left leg now, "Since you're here, you should get that looked at."

Lasso touched the now dried blood on his head; he had totally forgot about the injury until now. The mercenary captain shrugged, "I'll live. Doc!" Jason called out, getting attention for the injury. He then looked to Taab, "Tell me Chief, what do you know of the Unknown Regions?"



TAG Bardan_Jusik


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

OOG: Bringing in a plot line that was supposed to happen with the end of Project Zero, the orginal ending of the game. But, it'll be a nice insert here. Sith should remember this bad boy. I have edited some of the ship from Patch 4 to better reflect information I've discovered on dreadnoughts since the Patch 4 storyline; also, I can't locate the post either with the fragmentation to the old posts at the moment either, so here we go, using a little GM power to make things right for the second game.




IC: Dark Eye
Whendyll System outskirts



The Dark Eye was a legend among Beasts storytellers and even more of a legend among the Jod Military Force. Her disappearance thousands of years ago and occasional reappearance now and then since then had been the stuff the legends and myths are made of. To say that her allegiance was with the Beasts or the Jod would be a far stretch of the truth. She was a rogue warship, a Beast warship, that had somehow learned to walk a very thin line in galactic history.

The 15,000 meter long ship looked like a gigantic sea monster. Her hull stretched out like a terrible thing from some deep forsaken part of a mythical sea legend, like that of a rocky (the "rocky" being multiple smaller structures along her hull) cylinder shape, ending in a bulky array of 28 circular engines that glowed orange; her mid section had like-wise rock-like structures along a massive bent-downwards delta wing design. Two massive "tail fin" structures, like that of a King-class Battleship or King II-class Battleship, were near the rear of the ship, dotted with rocky out-cropping structures as well. Her bridge was a small bubble of a structure near the rear of the ship, at the upper-most part of a series of rocky structures below it. Her defining features, however, were the four massive tentacle-like arms that floated out in space before her, connected near the after of the ship, that stretched a few hundred meters in front of the ship's bow; four smaller tentacles were connected mid-ship just in front of the wings and stretched to the length of the longer tentacles in front of the bow of the ship.

When the tunnel of Red Space collapsed behind her, her path of travel brought her into the midst of the Imperial blockade around Port Haven. Everything from ancient Plasma Cannons to more modern All Purpose Mass Driver Cannons, Flak Guns, and more modern laser and turbolaser emplacements, as well as concussion and proton torpedo missile launchers. What firepower the massive dreadnought did not destroy with, it's massive tentacles circled around whole capital ships, crushing them outright or throwing into the planet of Port Haven to crash on the surface. It was like a sea-monster in the great distance between Port Haven and the outskirts of the system, the dark monster a stark blob against the bright planet.

Where the Imper Star Destroyer was once approaching, a numberless cloud of unclassifiable starfighters dropped out of Red Space almost on top of her. Like a swarm of angry insects, the starfighters overwhelmed the mighty Star Destroyers and in moments, the hundreds of starfighters had finished pray and moved on like a dark cloud towards the Imperial Frigate. Their target was not the Jod or the DD, but the Empire.

The only sound over the comm channel was a horrifing scream of horror and pain, as if it from the very pits of hell itself, blocking out all communications. Then, amongst the noise over the speakers of the DD and the Jod support, came a deep un-human voice, "We are here for the Empire. We will not harm you. Do not fire on us. Leave Port Haven now. Leave now. To our slumber we must return soon. To our frozen state we must return. Leave now. Leave now."

For any Jod naval military officer worth his salt in the Jod academies, they would know the story behind the Dark Eye. How she had gone rogue against the Beasts themselves and had never touched a Jod vessel in anger. But, once again, the Jod had never spoken with the crew of the Dark Eye either.


TAG Sith-I-5, tyratoku, Heavy Isotope, SWBob

 

IC: Mara Jade
Mekuun Hoverscout EH-1, Port Haven beaches


"No," Mara told the stormtrooper, stretching out with the Force at the forbidding starship in orbit above the planet; the screams over the comlink and other reports confirmed her worst fears, "No Trooper, it is best we stay here then risk that monster above. We need to alert Imperial forces to the danger and gather as many shuttles as we can," Mara said, peaking out of the hatch and around at falling starships and space debris, "And head to the Southern most frozen pole, the furthest point away from that beast and falling starships and debris. Then after it leaves, we'll put out an SOS and leave ourselves."

Mara put actions to word, ducked down inside the hoverscout, and got on the comlink, "All Imperial forces, this is the Emperor's Hand. I am assuming command of all Imperial forces. Avoid orbit, I repeat, avoid orbit. All forces still on planet, head to the Southern Pole by whatever means you can. All Imperial forces in system, hyperspace out immediately. Hyperspace out immediately to the nearest Imperial Command. Emperor's Hand out."

Mara knew what that monster was. The Emperor had personally tried to capture it more then once.


TAG Sith-I-5

 

IC: Corporal Loretta, Lieutenant Zotoman, Technician Flavin, Samantha Irisa, Delicate Delinquent, Rescue Shuttle, and the Detective Wyms Firespray-31
Location: Whendyll System outskirts


"Understood, Mako. Recovery assets being notified." Loretta sent from Communications, then looked over at the Merc and Jod officers. "Sirs, Mako reports that they have found a survivor among the wreckage field, and are requesting a recovery team."

Zotoman looked at her, then back at Tim Williams, who advised, "Notify the rescue shuttle."

"Sir." She felt a surge of extra chagrin at sleeping through the alert, since she had crewed that vessel recently when they had picked up Johnny Boy escape pods at Berroll's Donn. She switched the commo board freq' to general, "Rescue Shuttle from 'Delinquent, do you copy?"

"Rescue Shuttle, copy." She recognised Sergeant Vestor's voice.

"Mako has found a survivor in the wreckage field sixty klicks from here. They are requesting a recovery team."

"Extra-vehicular, starfighter, or within a ship?"

"They didn't say, but assume the worst, Sergeant."

"Okay, but I do not have a crew to suit up to enter any ships. I'm out here on my own. I have a feeling you have an idea why."

Loretta said nothing for a moment, grimacing. Then, "Stand by Rescue Shuttle." She looked over at Williams and Zotoman. "Sirs, Rescue Shuttle has no crew at the moment, if survivor is trapped aboard a ship."

Lieutenant Zotoman put up a forefinger to silence her, and looked sternly towards the tech'. "Flavin, I want that rendezvous site now."

"Okay, okay, coming up, sir. Right, Garqi System. It's not far, but the Empire does have a garrison there."

"Well, we're not going to be there long. Just enough time to gather our dock our fighters, swing round, and jump back to rejoin Allegiance." Zotoman swivelled to the Corporal, "Okay, encrypt the location and transmit to friendlies."

Williams stepped nearer to her. "Call the Detective Wyms. She has tractor capability. She can tow the wreck to Garqi."

"Send the Rescue Shuttle too. Mako to coordinate the operation."

"On it."

* * * *
Detective Wyms, Firespray-31


Irisa noted the received information hitting her navicomputer, and promptly decrypted it.

Ooh, Garqi. Place sounded like someone clearing their throat. She smiled as she wondered if that was how the scouts who had discovered the planet, named it.

Gale had been named after a Lord Gale, who had fought in the Battle of Ruusan, and the planet Arden had been named after Deredith Arden. Garqi sounded like the result of something going around, and the hyperspace scout expectorating into a wadded flimsi.

She surfaced from making up her own galactic history enough to see the X-Wing Zulu following the other starfighters back inside the interdictor cruiser overhead.

"Detective Wyms from Delinquent."

Samantha turned to her commo board, and reached a delicate hand over to toggle the switch so she could respond when something else came through:
"We are here for the Empire. We will not harm you. Do not fire on us. Leave Port Haven now. Leave now. To our slumber we must return soon. To our frozen state we must return. Leave now. Leave now."

Her mouth dropped open, arm frozen in mid-air as she stared at the commo panel, her teeth chattering from the bassy menace in that voice. Her seat grew damp under her while she heard the reaction from the bridge..

"Did you hear that? What the frag was that?"

"Long-range sensors paint a massive ship-"

"Define massive."

"Fifteen thousand metres."

"Big enough for you?" That was Chief Engineer Williams.

"Oh sith. I think, I think it is the Dark Eye."

"The Dark Eye."

"The Dark Eye? What in Fornax is the Dark Eye?"


* * * *
Nebulon-B escort frigate, Tango

Commander Phoomi was proud of her crew and ship.

Her first shuttle had reported that they had boarded the enemy interdictor, and were engaging the Rebel defenders, while her vessel was standing up to the pounding of the Jod destroyer, while returning fire with their own turbolasers, plus the second star destroyer that had jumped in, was firing upon the enemy warship with extreme range.

"We are here for the Empire. We will not harm you. Do not fire on us. Leave Port Haven now. Leave now. To our slumber we must return soon. To our frozen state we must return. Leave now. Leave now."

The commander turned to face her junior officers. "What the hell was that?"

Several shoulders shrugged.

"Ma'am, Admiral Thaw's star destroyer is down."

Phoomi stared at the speaker. "Down? Down how?"

"Hundreds of starfighters of unknown spec inbound from the third planet at high relatavistic speed."

"Message coming in."

"All Imperial forces, this is the Emperor's Hand. I am assuming command of all Imperial forces. Avoid orbit, I repeat, avoid orbit. All forces still on planet, head to the Southern Pole by whatever means you can. All Imperial forces in system, hyperspace out immediately. Hyperspace out immediately to the nearest Imperial Command. Emperor's Hand out."

"Fine," Phoomi bit out, brushing some hair out of her face, "didn't want to come to this stupid place anyway. Withdraw our forces. Disengage tractor, but maintain defensive fire on that destroyer. Helm, nearest Imperial Command should be Phaeda."

* * * *
Delicate Delinquent - Deck Fourteen

The twi'lek woman in a belted Kings Army shirt and boots almost climbed over Go Team troops in her attempt to get past them, and almost fell into the corridor with Jensen.

She took in Jensen Vilak, the kneeling soldier clutching his own neck, then snapped her attention and gun towards an irate voice from inside the apparently turbolift!

"Oh what? You've got to be fething kidding me!"

Sounil narrowed her eyes as she peered into the turbolift. Short of going in and patting the walls, as far as she could see, it was empty. She checked out the floor in case someone had dropped a comlink.

"Well feth that. I'm staying; zollux to it."

The door closed again. The twi'lek lunged towards it, but the burnished grey metal slid into its housing under her fingers, and started to descend.

* * * *

The Delicate Delinquent and the Tango foud themselves separated from each other at last, and both huge capital ships backed off fast from each other at 125 degree angles, and within two minutes had enough space to aim themselves in new directions if they wanted.

Her departure buffeting the Firespray that was so close underneath her, the Delicate Delinquent jumped out of the Whendyll star system, leaving behind, the Eleventh Hour, Detective Wyms, Rescue Shuttle, Mako, Blade Dancer, and any of the Allegiance snubships and Skiprays that had survived the battle.

Tag: Jensen, Eleventh Hour, Masha

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh

A voice over the comms seemed to resonate in Masha's head, "We are here for the Empire. We will not harm you. Do not fire on us. Leave Port Haven now. Leave now. To our slumber we must return soon. To our frozen state we must return. Leave now. Leave now,"

Fear gripped Masha like a hand of cold steel, she squirmed to get back into her seat and buckle the harnesses. Click! Finally fastening the buckle, the harness tightened around her, keeping her firmly in her seat. Strange fighters filled the space around the Star Destroyer, swarming over it's hull, leaving the ship in ruins. Masha closed her eyes and hoped that they wouldn't think she was an Imperial fighter. We're running out of time... It could already be too late, the thought pained her, after everything she had been through since she arrived, all the death and destruction. That man was all she could see as a hope that not everything went wrong today.

"Mako patch me through to the rescue shuttle, I'll give them whatever help they need," Masha said hurriedly, her voice full of fear. Turning Blade Dancer around through the debris as the swarm moved away, came about and stayed near Snow White, still able to see the man lying on the floor. She looked up to see the Nebulon-B frigate and the Interdictor make hyperspace jumps in opposite directions. Everything came to a full circle, she cursed her inexperience, acting without thinking. How stupid could I be? She thought, Why would two Imperial craft be attacking each other? Cursing that she didn't ask herself that sooner.

Mentally kicking herself, the Interdictor must have been them, the answer seemed obvious but she had to ask the Mako, "Are you here with the Mercs?" She said, trying to calm herself, her voice sounding closer to her normal monotone. Wondering what this has all been for. The only thing she felt right was to stay the course and find The Mercs; "I need to know where they went."

First thing was first; to finish helping this rescue, at least she could do that right. Trying to force her anger away, Masha looked over, gently placing an open hand on the canopy towards Snow White, closing her eyes as a small tear rolled down her cheek.

TAGS: @Sith-I-5 Bravo

 

END OF GAME

We made it! Thank you to all players and staff who have joined Intervention during it's storied 4 year run, from June 11th, 2009 (at 4:46pm) to November 06th, 2013 (at 10:51pm)! Please look for a "End Credits" post after the Epilogues are posted for a full list of game credits and special thanks.

---

After the below post, please post a one page Epilogue of your character that happens at some point or multiple points between Intervention and the start of Echoes in Eternity, which is a five month time period, between the Battle of Yavin (0 BBY) and the Blockade of Yavin (0 to .6 ABY). Your Epilogue will cover your character's story after the story of Intervention ends. You have one week to post your Epilogues (flexibility by a few days will be given as needed). The Epilogue will conclude your role playing experience with STAR WARS: INTERVENTION. Please look for Intervention: Echoes in Eternity, coming soon!!!!

---

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
High Orbit, Rhen Var, Outer Rim Terrorities, several days after the Battle of Port Haven


Captain.

The title still had a unwarranted experience level attached to it, but Jason Lasso leaned back in the Captain's Chair of the Maraduer-class Corvette Johnny Boy, allowing his body to slide comfortable back into the chair, his arms resting on the armrests of the chair. Regardless of warrant of Captaincy or not, he was here by the wishes of the former and long-term Captain of the Johnny Boy, Rick Taller. So he had a job to do.

"Captain," came a voice from the crew stations, "We have visual feed."

"Put it through," Lasso ordered.

"On screen now, sir," answered the tech.

"Captain," said the live holo-feed imagine of newly promoted Chiss Commander, Chris Streets, from the interior of a cockpit of a ILH-KK Citadel-class civilian cruiser, "We are prepped and ready to go. We'll be down here for a few weeks surveying the planet for a new home. Those seventy Strategic Command Army Snow Troopers and thirty other support personnel from the Allegiance will come in handy. Don't worry about us Captain, we'll find a new home soon enough."

"Good to hear, Commander," Lasso said, looking at the holograpic imagine near his Captain's Chair, adding with a smile, "Stay warm. Sensor scans are showing nothing but snow covered mountains and glaciers down there. Those frozen beaches will give your surfing itch a run for it's money."

The Chiss showed a toothy grin back, "It'll be just like home on Csilla."

"Keep me informed, Commander. I hear ole Commander Terrel Vacks wants to pay you a visit here soon."

"We'll hopefully have a place for him to lay his head by then, Captain," Streets replied, "Permission to launch, Captain?"

Jason nodded, "Permission granted. Launch, Luck's Gamble."

The holo-feed shut off with a quick finger salute from the Chiss to Lasso, then Jason watched moments later as the new Luck's Gamble flew out ahead of the Johnny Boy, cruising over the hulk of the Immobilizer 418 cruiser Delicate Delinquent, then banking into a lazy roll downwards and to the right of the cruiser, slipping in along the left side of the Light-class Destroyer Eleventh Hour, and continuing it's downward approach to the planet of Rhen Var below. The Light-class Destroyer House of Vimal took up a slightly below and similar flight path to the left to the Eleventh Hour on the opposite side of the Delicate Delinquent. The Luck's Gamble passed between the two Light-class Destroyers and soon became a small black dot against the planet's white surface.

Lasso glanced to his forward left, watching as several shuttles and starfighters flew underneath the visible bow of the King II-class Battleship Allegiance---on the opposite side of the Delicate Delinquent and above it like the Johnny Boy---and headed towards the planet after the Luck's Gamble.

"Helm," Jason said, "Get us moving towards Ilum in the Unknown Regions."



END OF GAME

 

OOG: This is a short Epilogue post.


IC: Hilick Soal
Outdoor Lobby, 500 Republica, Coruscant, several weeks after the Battle of Port Haven


The music, the laughter, the voices filled the air, pentrated his hearing like some tormenting monster. The idle and inflated talk of the New Order elite, among which were the members of the even higher elite Imperial Court, mocked Hilick Soal's senses like a tormenting beast of some demented dream. Before, as an Investigator of the Imperial Security Bureau, Hilick had to once in a while accompany other ISB officials to these gatherings of the New Order's elite. Before, Hilick Soal was a strong supporter of the New Order, a poster child for the New Order: the perfect citizen. His wife, his daughter, and himself were the model citizens. While plenty of State-funded media focused on Hilick and his family, before it were smaller gatherings of the Imperial elite. But this, this was one of the largest gatherings of the Empire's elite Hilick had ever heard of, let alone seen. Polished white armor of Imperial Stormtroopers provided tight security, while the royal red armor of the Emperor's Royal Guard reminded all that the Emperor himself was here.

Above, a crackle and Hilick looked up, the tormenting voices of the Imperial elite a muddled background noise. High above, a pair of air speeders shot overhead in the night sky, fireworks shooting off behind them. The Imperial wealthy, with their many lights and delights of food and drink, paid little mind to the display, although the few that did clapped. Even their clap sickened Hilick Soal.

Now, things were different. But his polished silver torso, shoulder, and forearm armor, with the blue Imperial crest on the left shoulder blade armor told of a different story then what he felt. His white uniform under the armor, tucked into black military boots with silver latches (instead of shoes laces), with an equipment belt around his waist and a black holster around his right thigh with a S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol, and a Model 22T4 hold-out blaster pistol tucked into his equipment belt at the small of his belt told of someone of an enforcer, the E-11 blaster rifle in a holster on the back of his armor enforcing that opinion if someone could see it. His purple cape that hung from his shoulder armor and draped to his knees told of someone of royalty and nobility; the red slash that ran across his chest armor (instead of the ammo belt) spoke of someone of elite status. The gold and silver decorated scabbard that hung from his left hip with a gold hilted vibrocutlass made of phrik spoke of someone of high influence within the Imperial elite. But Hilick Soal were none of these things.

In fact, he was truly lost in the sea of the Imperial wealthy, huddled in various conversations. Laughing, scheming, plotting...yes, Hilick could see it now. And that's why the Emperor had brought Hilick Soal back to life. Darth Vader was too clearly associated with the Emperor and authority, while Mara Jade was more of the "harmless girl" that could maneuver herself where she needed for the Emperor's will, back lacked the visible intimidation that the Imperial Court brought with age and wisdom. Hilick Soal bridged the gap between Vader and Mara; where Vader was too militaristic for the Imperial Court and Mara too unbelievable of someone of elite status because of her age, Hilick Soal could be seen as a man of both authority and influence and fit right into the Imperial elite without drawing too much attention to himself or his mission. All of the scheming within the Imperial Court was now his responsibility. But there was more, as everyone had been told---

"Honey," said a voice, "Baby," a hand gripped his left arm and Hilick shook himself from his thought process to look at his beautiful wife---the same wife who did not know that her husband, Hilick Soal, had died and was brought back to life. All she knew was her elevation to even a higher status within the New Order because of Hilick Soal's daring attempt to save the Emperor's life; "This is Grand Vizier Sate Pestage."

Hilick bowed his head slightly, "Grand Vizier, a pleasure."

"I'll leave you two alone, I'm sure you have official business to discuss. Hilick, sweetheart, I'll be over there with Patty getting a refreshment. Would you want anything?"

"No sweetie," Hilick responded, "But thank you."

Hilick's wife smiled and moved off after a short tight squeeze on Hilick's arm.

"A nice woman, General Preeminent," Sate Pestage said, using Hilick's new title from the Emperor; the Grand Vizier smiled thinly, "Such a lofty title, General Preeminent," Sate smiled, "Tell me General, will you be able to stay loyal to the Emperor?"

Hilick raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, "Why a course Grand Vizier, why would my loyalty be in question?"

Sate laughed softly, "Because General Soal, everyone's loyalty is in question once appointed to the Imperial Court. The wealthiest, smartest, and most connected people in the Empire and all with the ability to challenge the Emperor's throne if ever given the opportunity. But, I am the one who stands between the truly stupid dreams of conquest and reign of those in the Imperial Court and the Emperor. I am the one who knows all, sees all, and cut throats in the middle of the night for the Emperor. Everyone you see here, Hilick Soal, is a liar, murderer, and a thief. All have their own agendas. And yet all are controlled by the Emperor and most of them don't even know it, going about their games of conquest and shadow play. But yet, they are the ones the Emperor needs to keep the Core Worlds, Inner Rim, and Colonies in line; they are the ones who give the Emperor's voice the power it needs to accomplish the Emperor's wishes. So we tolerate their games...for now."

"Grand Vizier," Hilick Soal said, "With all due respect, where are you headed with your discussion?"

Sate smiled, "Now come General, are we to play that game? You have been given wealth and power very few beings in this galaxy enjoy and it has been handed to you almost over night, all because you saved the Emperor's life. But you were known to us before as Investigator Hilick Soal of the ISB. Still connected to the New Order elite, but on a much smaller scale. Now, you ARE the New Order elite. Given command of the new Assertor-class Star Dreadnought Darkest Night. You have the power now to overthrow Coruscant with your fleet of Star Destroyers under your command, to take the throne for yourself, to rule an Empire! The question becomes, will you? Oh you slave who was brought back to life from death at the Emperor's hand for betrayal to Project Zero for your brother's life?"

Hilick Soal smiled, collecting his resolve, "Grand Vizier, my loyalty is to the Emperor's desires, not my own."

"Ah, yes," Sate said, "The politically correct answer. Be weary General Preeminent Soal, many do not share the Emperor's desire to have you be his slave to his desires with this Kingdom of Jod, for many regard you as a spy in the Imperial Court itself, chief among them Lord Vader himself. Watch your steps, Hilick Soal, or you will risk your head being detached by your body by a many great people. Yes, you are in the Imperial Court, but now you are more a slave then you ever thought was possible."

Hilick smiled, "Thank you Grand Vizier for your advice."

Hilick departed with a bow to Sate and went to find his wife; as he walked away, Sate's words echoed in Hilick's mind, "....but now, you are more a slave then you ever thought was possible." No Grand Vizier, Hilick thought, I have been a slave my whole life and I am very well accustomed to being one.

 

IC: Captain Yavscout, Commander Hilton, Deputy the Astromech, bridge of the Allegiance King-II-class battleship
Location: Red Space


Yavscout was on the impressive bridge of the King-II battleship, seeing what could be achieved in terms of Kingdom of Jod military uniform styles after an un-announced raid and punitive action by the fashion police.

“Puh-leeeeeeease” The elf officer wheedled, high on the adrenalin of a successful rescue. For him, there was nothing better.

“Fine,” Hilton relented, handing the Merc the oval-shaped voice-pickup, stretching the spiralled black wire that connected it to the grey wall beside the ComScan station.

A lieutenant in the grey tunic and trousers that the commander was wearing, stood to attention, his hands clasped behind his back.

He kept a close eye on the two while Yav took hold of the voice-pickup, switched it on, and addressed the crew. “Now hear this, all hands, all hands. We are now in red space. Aaaand…” He paused, looking out the front ports while the crimson tunnel collapsed, to be replaced by a not unfamiliar starfield. In fact, it looked like the stretch of space where Taller had brought him and Lyla starfighter training, just after they had joined the Mercs. “…now we’re out of Red Space. I thank you.”

Hilton glanced at something behind the elf, close to the ground, then waved dramatically to regain his attention.

crackle

Yavscout jumped aside the ground as a mild electrical charge numbed his right calf, landing and dropping to one knee, but still managing to turn to see the familiar black R2 unit, with it’s electro-jabber protruding from it’s barrel-like torso!

“Deputy!” Yav yelled at the droid, delighted to see his little friend.

[Duh-wheet-do-woot-woot!] Deputy whistled and blooped back as Yav jumped forward to hug the little guy, and rub knuckles into its shiny dome.

“Where the feth have I been? Where the feth have you been?”

The two friends quickly got each other caught up in an animated exchange of Basic and Binary.

“Hah,” Yav chuckled at one of Deputy’s anecdotes, “rule one when facing floating white energy balls of unknown composition. Don’t touch the fragging thing.”

At length, Deputy backed off half a metre, and whistled a plaintive query.

“Did I bring you anything? What’re you, twelve?” The elf’s expression changed from mild exasperation to sly pleasure, as he slowly drew a cylindrical object from pocket.

[Weet-bloop?]

Yav smiled at the innuendo-threaded interrogative. “It’s not a canoe in my pocket. And I’m always please to see you.” He brought out the shiny metal object, holding it by the handgrip, with the red focussing crystal aimed up, a foot from his face. “A saber guard’s lightsabre. You can stick it in your dome.”

He frowned at the droid’s next query.

“Is what a euphamism? Isn’t that what astrodroids do with lightsabres.”

Commander Hilton decided the exchange was turning a bit too icky for him, and backed off, rallying the crew for the expected arrival of the other ships.

---

IC: Captain Yavscout, Aurora Cradmoon (npc), Nen-Carvon PX-4 Mobile Command Base
Location: Rhen Var


It was several days after the events of Port Haven, and Yavscout’s emotions were mixed.

On the one hand, he had finagled the captain of the Light-class destroyer, House of Vimal, into Red Spacing up to Christophsis, homing in on the deteriorating signal of the SGIS wristlink his extra-vehicular corpse was wearing, after it got sucked through the breached hull of the Imperial Nebulon-B escort frigate, Strident Haze on a previous mission to capture the legendary “Something of the Something of the Red Rock” painting, which had been important for some reason.

He had been able to loot his corpse, getting back his black-as-night gnomeskin suit, and other magical accoutrements that he had lost on that operation.

He had hugged the gnomeskin so tightly while kneeling on the cargo bay floor, that Captain Jenkins had asked if they wanted a room.

Yavscout was still happy, read – delighted as frag - about that, but today, the feeling was tinged with sadness, for the time had come for farewells, long term and temporary.

Yav recalled his last lingering look at Sounil Mistry, the back of her knees specifically, the lech; the twi’lek woman who had been one of the Secret Galactic Intelligence Service’ long list of un-accounted for personnel following Order 66, and recently rescued by the Mercs from a deep space Imperial prison.

He had expected her to either seek to go home, wherever that was; stay with the Mercs; or head for SGIS headquarters for a debrief, and possible return to their ranks.

Instead, she and her new partner, Nate Legnash, had apparently sworn the equivalent of a blood oath to hunt down whoever had waxed, or caused to wax, the Jod’s King Alex the Just, and were going to be leaving with the Kingdom of Jod vessels.

It was a temporary farewell as the Kingdom of Jod and the Mercs were expecting to reconvene in a few weeks for reasons to do with the rest of this Prophesy of theres.

Yavscout meanwhile, had resigned his commission with SGIS, which was a bit of a wrench.
He had originally infiltrated the Mercs on their behalf, but he had had more opportunity to take the fight to the Empire than he had ever had with the Service, and he felt so much part of the family, that, well, he glanced through the hangar’s atmospheric containment shield at the floating Johnny Boy, these frakkers were under his protection now.

His niece, Samantha Irisa, had already left for home, the doom-laden transmission from the Dark Eye proving too much for her.

The SGIS agent had not heard the message himself, but now, ensconced in the back of the Nen-Carvon PX-4 Mobile Command Base on the frozen wind-swept steppes of the Rhen Var ice-planet, he could analyse recordings made by the Mako as she had rocked up to the fifteen-thousand-metre Dark Eye battlecruiser floating above Port Haven, poised to toss the Imperial Escort Carrier wrapped in one of its four black tentacles down into the clouds.

“All your base are belong to…’ello, can we help you?” boomed around the cylindrical suite within the PX-4’s armoured living area, sending a chill down the elf’s spine.

Ballsy to the point of suicide, he thought. He was unsure whether to be proud of, or angry with the captain of the Mako, as the Mon Calamari had transmitted, recorded here for posterity, “You said not to fire on you. You didn’t say anything about taking pictures.”

“For feth’s sake, don’t ask them to say ‘cheese’.”

“Sir,.” That was Aurora Cradmoon’s voice from the cockpit, interrupting his task. “the Johnny Boy is ready to depart.”

“Thank you.”

He was able to intercept the video feed between the two veteran Mercs, and listened to the exchange between Captain Lasso and Commander Chris Streets.

His own command, the Delicate Delinquent, was still in orbit over the ice world. Later, while the ship remained here, he would re-join the [iMarauder][/i]-class corvette, either in his N-1 starfighter, the Tunare, or, if the Jod came through, an ARC-170 Republic-era fighter-bomber.

The two signed off, and the Johnny Boy jumped away towards the Unknown Regions.

“Very few ships less suitable for landing on a snow-covered planet than an ILH-KK Citadel-class civilian cruiser. It's got landing gear like fething ice skates!”

“Sir.” Cradmoon acknowledged with a dull tone.

He had found her vitality so muted since the breakup with Mac, that he had unofficially adopted her, along with the actual kids, Atin, Doctor Cook’s Tim, and Nick Skysand. In addition, he had placed all the Mercs under “his personal protection.”

“You all wrapped up and ready to go outside and watch it try to land?”

“Yes sir.”

Yav leaned over and turned the screens off, the repeaters going black, and several banks of coloured lights going dark. “Alright, I'll mem Endure Cold, and flash heat the shuura; you take the deckchairs up on the roof.”

He left the console and headed aft along the single circular, relatively wide corridor within the vehicle, that connected the analysis and tactical area, drivers' compartment, living areas.
Imperial Governors were known to live in these things, and it was true, he felt safe enough within the metre-thick outer hull, and secondary hull not to be wearing any armour, and was just in his casual gear, Grey Imperial trooper trousers, black calf-length boots, the long white t-shirt that Kingdom of Jod Royal Lithographics had kindly printed with a circle of words reading SHip Intervention Team.

He had presented folded shirts to his fellow interdictor-capturing cohorts of Vestor and Flavin.

Two flasks of the soft beverage that was the sweet juice of the shuura fruit, were propped into the condenser to heat up, keep them fortified in the polar conditions outside. The blizzard had at least settled down.

Ten minutes later, the two were on the frost-layered roof of the heavy tracked vehicle, heavily wrapped in parkas, and buffed with Endure Cold, holding the heated flasks in gloved hands.

In the distance, the Luck's Gamble broke cloud cover.

Steam wafted from Yav's grin as he looked across to Aurora and the portable holocam ny her boots.“You got the lens cap off that thing, we're not going to get another shot at this.”

“This doesn't seem a nice thing to do, Captain.”

“Just shut up and film.”

End of game for Yavscout

Many thanks to everyone in Intervention, and Spycoder for letting me continue to npc Aurora, after he left the game.

 

Epilogue Post
IC: Kilo "Papa Zulu" Typhon
Location: Nar Shaddaa slums

A few months after the Battle of Port Haven

The room was large, full of people, and most surfaces were covered in a thick layer of grime. Patrons from every corner of the galaxy took every seat and left the remaining beings to standing room only. Dense smoke hung in the air and heavily lowered visibility. In the center of the room was a large and well-stocked bar, with two bartenders passing out drinks in a nonchalant manner.

Kilo Typhon, fully armored, stood in a dark corner with his short astromech droid R4-P77 beside him.

Beeps, whistles, and chirps sounded beside him, and Kilo read the translated droid's speech appear as text on his Heads-Up-Display. "We do not have much time. Lasso only gave us clearance to come here to pick up those weapons from that arms dealer. We can't just go around looking for Imperials," the black and orange astromech droid was cut off with a gentle pat on its head.

"Don't worry, buddy," Kilo murmured just loud enough for the droid to hear over the general chatter of the other patrons in the Nar Shaddaa bar. "I go way back with this guy. We were at the Atzerri academy together. Hell, we went to high school together, too." he paused and glanced down at the droid. "Plus, we got that deal wrapped up quickly enough.I was even able to swindle the guy out of this here lightsaber," Kilo patted the black-and-silver-hilted cylinder hanging on his belt.

"Boo," a new voice crackled. Kilo instinctively tensed his muscles and pushed himself up onto the balls of his feet. His left hand curled into a fist and he activated the knuckle-plate vibroblade embedded in the gauntlet on his right hand. Kilo spun on his heel as fast as he could and brought the blade up in one swift motion. One moment he was facing the entrance of the cantina, and the next he had the thick knife pressed up against the neck of the human behind him.

"Hey," the man said with a grin. "It's me. Lima."

Kilo grinned, put the blade back in his gauntlet, and depolarized his visor. "Lima Phylon," Kilo smiled. "Nice to see you again," he paused and glanced back toward the entrance. "Unless you've got a bunch of stormtroopers out there waiting for me."

"Nah," Lima said with a wave of his hand. "I'm an Imperial Intelligence field agent now. They don't keep tabs on me anymore. What's the deal? Why am I here?"

Kilo frowned. "Could have just said a freaky spook and it would have been the same. Anyway, so you know I left the Empire. Since, I've come to terms with a bunch of good people. We could really use a guy like y-."

"No no no," Lima shook his head. "I don't want to cut ya short here, Kilo, but I can't. I'm sure they're great, but I can't up and leave the Empire like you did. They come after families when that happens. You? You didn't have anyone left. I was put in charge of your investigation, man. I had to bring in three platoons of troops to our old hometown and ransack the place looking for you. Nobody died. Me? I got parents. Grandparents. Siblings. They'd all be executed if I went AWOL."

"Then help us some other way," Kilo interjected. "You've got connections that my organization can only dream of. Can you help us out?"

"How?" Lima asked skeptically.

"I've got a list of guys from the Corellian Academy I think I can trust. They're all Imperials and I'm going to need contact information for them and for you. We might need other things down the line. I don't really know what," Kilo admitted, "And I don't really know when. Hell, I don't even really know if we would need to talk to you specifically. But can I count on you? Are you going to be open to contact?"

Lima handed Kilo a small datacard. "That's got some of my contact information on it. Encrypted, secret, the works. It's all reliable. If you ever need me, contact me through those means. Got it?" he waved toward the astromech droid. "Listen, I've got to get going. Wheels, take care of this guy for me, okay? He gets into trouble from time to time, in case you haven't already noticed." he took a few steps away and turned back to look at them. "You better not mess up with this, man. You better be alive to see me next time."

"Will do, Lima. Take care." Kilo blinked, and the spook was gone. He checked the timelog in the corner of his HUD and sighed. "Dang, Sev. Look at that. Once again we're running late to get back to Lasso and the Mercs and it's all because you can't keep up with a schedule. The stuff I have to put up with."

Kilo led the way out of the bar while the astromech droid followed. It cussed the armored Merc the entire way.

End of Game for Kilo Typhon.

 

OOC: This post was written in collaboration with Bravo and contains dialogue for Jason Lasso written by him. Thank you again for your help in writing!

IC: Masha Tinovorsh, Captain Jason Lasso


Music


Masha gently flew Blade Dancer into the hangar bay of the Merc's vessel Johnny Boy, after rescuing Sal Brookes from the wreckage of Snow White she was finally able to make contact with The Mercs. The landing specialist directed her to an empty space within the hangar, she carefully maneuvered into the docking area, extending her landing gear and touching down.

Powering the engines down, she opened the canopy and removed her junky old flight helmet afterwards unbuckling the seat harnesses. Masha reached down into her storage compartments and pulled out a pack of tabac cigarras, the long day called for one. Unknowing if she could smoke there she slumped down in her seat and lit the cigarra, stretching her legs out in an awkward but comfortable position, hanging out over the edge of the cockpit. Taking a slow drag she was reminded how her tabac no longer gave her much relief, it was now more of an unhealthy addiction than a repose from the world. Though it did help, a little.

Easing her built up tension, trying to push away a horrible feeling at the back of her mind. There was no denying it, she killed someone. Try as she might, the thought lingered at the front of her mind. Regardless of their allegiance to the Empire, they still had lives. Lives full of memory and experience, now gone... Because of me... If there was a silver lining to the storm cloud above her, it was that she was able to save a life amid the chaos of the swarm, the Empire, and that horrid leviathan ship.

Masha took a last drag of her cigarra, am I ready for this? She asked herself. The twinge of regret had brought up the memory of the day she left Danoor, going AWOL was surprisingly easy, but Danoor's military wasn't exactly well equipped or well trained. The memory of her father's funeral struck a chord in her; the words she had told herself when she left Danoor and it's poor, corporate funded military. "Live free, or die." Under the iron fist of the Empire, no one is free, and whatever that dreadnaught was could only make matters worse. No one should hold such power, no one should be subject to slavery and destruction. Even the most honorable beings should hold themselves in check, lest the go the way of most politicians.

Masha shook herself from her ruminating, extinguished her cigarra on the bottom of her boot and letting the ashes fall to the bottom of the cockpit, putting the stub of what was left in her old flightsuit's shoulder pocket. She needed to find the Captain, ask him what his plan was. Her decision would hinge on his words, though she had come this far, so why not stay the course? Getting out of the cockpit and down the ladder---

"So first time?" Jason asked from around the small corridor leading into the hanger; Masha looked him in the eyes and nodded solemnly. The mercenary Captain wasn't wearing his jacket or carrying his blaster rifle, but he did finish taking a drag from his own cigar, "I see it in your eyes. I've been there too. My first time were two Imperial Stormtroopers back on Corellia. But the question now becomes, not if you'll become a murderer, because you're not one; it's war, death happens. The question becomes, can you live with yourself and do it again if necessary, without becoming an animal?" Jason took a long drag from his cigar, digging into a pouch pocket, and then tossed Masha a data card; the mercenary captain withdrew his cigar and said, "Let me know. It's the history of the Mercs on that data card. But don't worry kid, I won't judge you. You're at home here. I'll be in the Mess Hall if you need anything."

Sal Brooks was hovered past the mercenary captain by a few medical staff members, Lasso sharing a glance with the man. Something in his eyes looked familiar. And with that, Lasso left for the Mess Hall...

Masha clenched the data card tightly as Sal passed by, she looked upon him with a mixture of sorrow, anxiety, and empathy. At the end of the day she was glad to have saved him, only a lingering thought of wishing she could save more. She stuffed the data card into her breast pocket and went back to the Blade Dancer. Climbing back up the ladder she reached behind the seat in the cockpit and rummaged through her duffel bag, taking out a datapad and inserting the card. She sat in the cockpit, pouring over the contents held in the data card. Looking through the battles, plans, and images of the crew; on and off duty, Masha was relieved to see that they at least looked like a noble bunch, if a bit rough around the edges. Reading on about the exploits of the pilots in battle, it struck her of the simple yet heroic way in which the reports were written. Scrolling on through the files she found a block of personal remarks from the crew and began to read. Most were short but held within a sense of freedom and purpose.

Some time had passed as Masha read through the files the Captain had given her, she stowed her datapad, taking the card with her she made for the mess hall.

Lasso was admiring the view of space when Masha walked in; like always at this time of night, the Mess Hall was practically empty. The overnight chef, the COO Cook Droid simply known as George, quietly turned a receptor towards her from behind the cook station, but said otherwise nothing, as he went back to cleaning dishes.

"Sir," Masha said.

"Took your time," Jason said, turning from the viewport, "So either your here to tell me off, or you found something worth while on that datapad to chase after with the Mercs. The question is, which one is it?"

Masha stood at attention and rendered a salute. "My name is Masha Tinovorsh. Reporting for duty, sir. For as long as you need," she said confidently.

Jason smirked, "So tell me Pilot Officer Tinovorsh," the mercenary captain said, returning her salute casually (he would have to remind her they were mercenaries, not full fledged military and while Taller and he both ran a tight ship, saluting wasn't a necessity---you either did the job or you didn't) and walked up alongside her, walking towards the exit of the Mess Hall, "Have you ever been to the Unknown Regions?"

Masha walked to the left of and slightly behind the Captain, "Yes sir, I first heard of The Mercs when I was in smuggler's run looking for work," she said calmly, though only a few days, that felt like a lifetime ago. Though inside she remained unsure of her future, she made herself appear calm and collected. Holding tightly to the words Jason said to her. I'm not a killer, her thoughts felt hollow.

End of Game for Masha Tinovorsh.

 

​

IC: Beskaryc Taab /Atin Taab
Concordia, Mandalorian system

The Crusader settled down on the soft grass for what would be the last time under Atin's control. "I still don't understand why we're doing this buir (father). The Crusader is..." The younger of the Mandalorian pair lamented the loss of the ship. Ever since he had been rescued from SouthCont this old converted freighter had been his safe haven against those that would do him or his father harm. It was the instrument of his escape, the vehicle from which they had meted death out to their enemies. It was supremely adapted to their task. Heavily armed and armored, capable of handling even force using prisoners, and with enough space on board for them to live. It was his home.

"I told you Ati'ka (little Atin) not enough room on the Johnny Boy for this old bird. Your mother can take care of it while we arrange for smaller transport." Taab replied. He knew this was hard for his son, but the fact of the matter was they didn't need the Crusader's unique abilities for this job. Something smaller and more low key would be perfectly acceptable for now. When this job was over, Taab could come return and get the Crusader back. Truth be told he already had some feelers out for other jobs, but he couldn't take those on until his son was fully trained.

He glanced to the boy, who age wise should have undergone the verd'gotten (Mandalorian right of passage) several years ago, but due to his late start in training would have to wait just a bit longer. He chuckled to himself, seeing that Atin had become excited at the mention of his mother, a woman he had never met before. Well, he was in for a surprise now. The pair left the Crusader in the field on the outskirts of the homestead and quickly covered it with camouflage netting. "Your mother would be very grumpy if we didn't hide the ship right away. I'm sure she will come up with something a little more permanent once we leave."

"How would she know if we had waited?"

"Son, she has been watching us through a rifle scope from afar as soon as we set down."

"Really? How do you..."

"You think I'm good? She makes me look like a first year Imp cadet. Never, ever, make her angry or imply she doesn't know what she is doing." Taab rubbed his armored shoulder at this point.

"Trust me."

They finished the job of hiding the ship and started to make their way to the small log and stone cabin that the Taab's called home. But no sooner had they started their journey than a trap door along their path flung open and a blue clad Mandalorian woman emerged, a blaster carbine pointed at Taab's chest.

"I am a might bit closer than that cyar'ika (darling)".

Taab laughed while Atin was taken aback at her sudden appearance. "Ruus!" Taab let out, as an excited whisper before taking her in his arms and touching his helmet to hers in the traditional "Keldabe Kiss". "It has been too long." She murmured something back to him that Atin couldn't hear before she turned her attention to him. "And you must be my new son. You're taller than I expected. Have you returned for Verd'gotten?"

Taab interjected. "Not yet, after this job." She turned to him, her curiosity evident even though her face was covered by her buy'ce (helmet). "We need to stash the Crusader for awhile. No room for it on the current op."

She nodded, "I'll use the time to get inside her and upgrade her again. I still say you need a pair of ion cannons, but lets get back to the house. We can take the tunnels." She turned around and went back down into the trap door with Taab and Atin in tow. Several minutes later they were inside the small hut and getting caught up on the past few years. As expected his mother showed no signs of Atin being unusual. The circumstances of his adoption into clan Taab were quite normal in Mandalorian society, and though the aruetiise (outsiders) might find it odd for for a 15 year old to meet his mother for the first time, she did not.

The evening was filled with stories and laughter, recounting of the tales of Atin's training and stories of his brother and sister whom he had also never met. Towards the end of the night Ruusaan asked simply. "Will you be staying long?" That ended the laughter as the family once again got down to business. "No," Taab answered. "Need a ride to Manda'yaim, plan on picking up a replacement ship there if we can and then back to work with the Mercs." Atin's heart began to ache again at the thought of leaving the Crusader behind, but Ruus simply asked a simple question.

"You have time to spend the night?"

Taab responded again with a smile. "Oh absolutely."

---

Oyu'baat Cafe, Keldabe, manda'yaim.
The next day.

Atin and Taab had been dropped off unceremoniously the next morning at the main spaceport in Keldabe. While Ruus had gone off to MandalMotors to secure what she needed to upgrade the Crusader, Taab and Atin made their way through the twisting streets of Keldabe on their way to their own destination, the oyu'baat cafe. Imperial patrols along the way slowed their progress as they were stopped twice, apparently their armor warranted them extra attention these days. Fortunately Taab's credentials as a Jedi hunter and previous experience as a bounty hunter in the service of the Empire allowed them to pass through without being detained.

"I don't get it buir. We are a people of warriors. How can this be allowed? How can they occupy our world, our home?"

Taab decided he didn't want to get into the history of the Imperial occupation of Manda'yaim at the moment. Atin was already stirred up about the loss of his home aboard the Crusader, best to not stir up any other strong emotions within him. "The only real estate you own is the land between your two feet. Anything else that you think is yours, is just rented space."

"But..."

"Silence. We're here."

Indeed the pair had arrived at the cafe. It was the oldest on manda'yaim, and in deals brokered with the occupation government, the Imperials stayed out of the oya'baat. It was the one place that Mandalorians could still call their own. Taab pointed Atin in the direction of an unoccupied table towards the rear of the room while he conversed with the barkeep. He ordered them a couple of stews and told her the real purpose for their being here. As Taab settled the bowls onto the table he was sure it wouldn't take long for his inquiries to filter through the system.

He wasn't disappointed, just halfway through his steaming meal a cough behind him caught his attention. Taab slowly turned around and saw the green armored man before him. Taab smiled, a bit of broth collected in the corner of his mouth. He hated that green style of armor so many were adopting now. "You look too much like that shabuir Fett in that getup."

The man removed his helmet now, revealing a head of long blond hair, his piercing blue eyes stared at Taab for a moment. "Is that any way to greet your Mand'alor? (Supreme ruler) "

Taab laughed as Atin sat and stared, a bit star struck. This was Fenn Shysa, the true leader of all mando'ade (Mandalorian people) and head of the resistance in the system. "I heard you were back on world, come to finally fight for your own people?"

Taab scowled and shook his head. "We've talked about that before Shysa. I fight for myself and my own. Not for this rock." Shysa nodded, this was no doubt a conversation he had encountered before Atin thought. "And if I ordered you to, called you home to fight for my cause?" Taab just stared at the man, unmoving, and without a response.

"Well, maybe we will leave that for another day. I hear you are looking for a ship. The Crusader finally break down on you?"

Atin bristled at that, but Taab ordered him to stand down with just a look. "Just no room for her on my current job. Figured with your...activities you might have a ship we can buy that would suit our purposes. Something we can fit aboard a Marauder class corvette. One already filled to the gills with other fighters."

Shysa shrugged, "Not running a charity here Taab. You know as well as I that the Imps are strip mining our world. They can't use the beskar they steal, but they deny it to us so that is just as good to them I suppose. We need every fighting ship, every fighting man and woman, that we have to kick them off "this rock" as you put it. They've enslaved most of the unfaithful (New Mandalorians) and barely tolerate the bounty hunters among us. Of course they don't tolerate my fighters at all." He laughed now, his mirthful chuckle filling the cafe.

Taab nodded, this was all a part of the history lesson he was trying to avoid having in front of his son. He knew Atin could be convinced to join Shysa's crusade with the barest push, and that Atin wasn't ready for it, not yet. He started to interupt the mand'alor when suddenly Shysa's train of thought changed.

"Did you say a Marauder, filled with fighters?" he asked thoughtfully. Taab nodded. "You're in with the Mercs then. Not many of us have thrown in with the Rebels, or the mercenaries that fight with them. Not enough money in it." He looked to Atin now. "And he hasn't passed the verd'gotten yet." He scratched at his cheek. "This is just getting him the experience he needs..." He trailed off with Taab not surprised that Fenn had figured this out. The man was just living up to his reputation.

Shysa picked back up again. "Tell ya what Taab, your work with the Mercs counts as striking a blow against the Empire. I may have a ship for you."

That did surprise Taab. The Mandalorian resistance movement had thus far gone out of its way to stay unaligned with the greater Rebel Alliance. They fought for an independent Manda'yaim, not for the overthrow of the Empire. Was Shysa testing the waters on that? Or just looking for an excuse to help out a fellow mando'ade?

Shysa took out a small holo and activated it. The image of a ship appeared before them. "She's an A-24 Sleuth Scout. Brand new, came off the Incom line right before they got nationalized." Taab nodded, he had heard the stories. He had also heard of the design, it would prove adequate for his purposes depending on its condition. "It's still stock, some young punk Corellian bounty hunter came out this way looking for clone deserters. Wanted to make a big splash, bring their heads to Vader or some such." That caused Taab to chuckle. Many such deserters had come to manda'yaim after the Clone Wars had ended.

"He ran into Skirata's wild men up north and now he is planted in their fields. They came to me knowing I could use the ship. It's a good blockade runner, but I think selling it to you might serve us better." The Corellian had gone to kyrimorut? For his first job? Taab's chuckle turned into laughter. Not even hardened bounty hunters would try something so brazen. Word was to give Skirata's wild bunch a wide berth whenever possible.

"How much?"

Shysa thought for a moment before coming back with a quote far below the vessel's market value, even if it was stolen. He even mentioned an extra bonus in the deal. Taab was surprised, but handed over the credits. "Vor Entye Mand'alor. (I am in your debt Supreme leader)." He said as he took the security code and left the bar, Atin right behind him.

Shysa watched them leave and placed his bucket over his head. "I know Taab, and someday I am going to collect."

---

Keldabe spaceport, a few hours later.

"I hate it." Atin had muttered as soon as they caught a glimpse of their new ship. "It's too....new. No character at all." Taab shook his head at that as he deactivated it's very basic security system and the pair boarded. The interior was just as bland as the outside, but Taab saw the potential. Inside there would be room to devote to a small armory. There wouldn't be room for the speeder bikes he had kept aboard the Crusader, but there would be enough for the some of the spare weapons Taab liked to have on call.

They were greeted by a small droid, an astromech unit. "Beskar'ad (droid) whose ship is this?" Taab asked. The droid tweeted a reply, one that was translated instantly in their HUDs. "//Yours.//"

Taab smiled. Good. As expected Shysa had been true to his word. This droid had been memory wiped after its Corellian owner had been killed. It, like the ship, was all theirs now. Atin moved forward and knelt in front of the droid, examining it. "OK, R2-E4, you're the specialist, give us the grand tour." Taab could almost hear the boy's eyes rolling as he spoke. He still wasn't pleased with this transaction.

The "grand tour didn't take long, and did nothing to improve Atin's mood. The ship had just the barest of defense, two forward firing laser cannon. "Not even any torpedo launchers!" Atin had exclaimed in dismay. Shielding was acceptable for now, the security systems were not. At least the ship boasted good speed and maneuverability for a ship this size. There was still much work that needed to be done. Atin despaired at that, but Taab saw the potential.

"I miss the Crusader."

"Son, it's just a ship, " Taab replied as he put his hands on his son's shoulders. "This ship needs work, a lot of it. But we can do it together. Who knows, maybe someday you will learn to call this one home." Atin scowled in reply to that. "We don't have time to do it all now. We have to link back up with the Mercs."

Taab nodded to his son. "True enough. Let's load up a new armory and get started on the security system. We should be able to get that handled by the time we meet back with the others."

Atin nodded his assent, but Taab could tell he still wasn't happy. "But first things first...the ship needs a name."

Atin paused now. He didn't like giving this thing a name. It implied that they would be keeping it for awhile. Still he knew they just couldn't keep calling it the ship all the time. "I'd like to call it the Soup Sandwich" he muttered but Taab could only shake his head at that. "You'll have to do better. After all this is your vessel." He smiled behind his faceplate as he broke the news to his son. Every bounty hunter needed their own ship, and whether it was stolen or bought or inherited, every bounty hunter would make it their own. Seeing how his son would modify this ship would give Taab great insight into just how ready At'ika was to pass into adulthood.

It dawned a little too slowly on Atin, who removed his buy'ce now and looked around at his surroundings with a new enthusiasm. "Mine?" he asked, almost meekly. Taab answered with just a nod of his own armored head. "Mine." Atin declared now, a grin spreading on his young face. Yes he saw this ship in a whole new light now. He could see where the armory would go, and where there might be space for a small cell to house a live prisoner. It was a fast ship, and would enable him to outrun those that could out gun him. She might not have been a warship, but she could get the job done, and she was his.

"We'll...I'll... call her the Speedy Trial." Taab's smile faded now. The ship had a name and his son knew what was expected of him. Good, it was time to get back to work. They took the Trial back to Concordia where they quickly filled out her new armory. Ruus of course was still at MandalMotors going over what she wanted done with the Crusader. Atin knew that they wouldn't be waiting for her to return before leaving. He was right.

"Let's beat feet. The Skipper's waiting for us."

Atin nodded and took his seat at the controls while the droid calculated the coordinates for their rendezvous point. As the ship lifted off Atin stated simply. "Thanks Dad." Taab nodded again in response, and quietly began to hum.

END of GAME for Beskaryc and Atin Taab. They will return for Echoes in Eternity.

 

IC: Agent Mitch Nifesta (SGIS)
Location: Flitter
Time: some days after Port Haven


A crowd of thirty bedraggled, rags or animal-skin-wearing beings huddled together, blankets and foil covers over shoulders for warmth, standing on the damp ground, outside the huge burgundy-coloured starship, a Consular-class cruiser, where the board-shouldered twi’lek had told them to stand.

He didn’t want any of them aboard the ship.

While most of them stared fearfully at his kneeling form, over by the treeline, some rubbernecked at the still-burning hulk of the huge twin-bowed warship whose crescendo of a crash had drawn and shaken them out of their deep cave shelters.

The twi’lek had off-handedly identified it as a Gladiator-class star destroyer.

They watched as the twi’lek rose and turned round, stomping slowly and heavily towards them, his eyes crimson with anger, his arms filled with the pale body of a human femme in a silken red dress with a extremely risqué thigh slit, her visible limbs even whiter than the alien’s face.

One of the men, late sixties looking human gazed after the bereaved-looking being as the larger form, at least a head taller than himself, trod slowly past, heading towards the boarding ramp.

“I say, hello?” The man tried. His eyes were sunk into his face, from the lack of food and shelter, since the Empire had blockaded the world, an Alliance “safe world” that had been discovered, bombarded, poisoned, then blockaded. Until today.

Nifesta stopped. He continued to face the cruiser.

“I have lost an agent.” he said simply.

“Yes, I understand. And we’re very sorry for your loss.” The man did not even try to sound convincing, but the lack of empathy was due to having problems of his own. “Can you take us with you? Please? Please don’t leave us here.”

“I tried to raise the Alliance, but they are not responding.” Nifesta did not know that the Rebel heroes had combined their forces to assault the Death Star, and were now contained in the Yavin system.

Alderaan’s fate had been his last morsel of galactic news.

“Yes, well. We haven’t seen any of their ships for a year-”

“There was a blockade.” Mitch pointed out.

“You got through.”

The refugee only knew that the visitor stood before him, while claiming there had been an Imperial blockade.

Two Secret Galactic Intelligence Service agents, one veteran, the twi’lek; and one probationary, the young woman in his arms, had attempted to run the blockade to deliver foods and medicines to the trapped peoples.
The woman, Baille Hart, had, a few days before been an Imperial fighter pilot awaiting execution on trumped-up charges that she was a rebel spy.

Mitch, despite the Alliance telling him she wasn’t one of theirs, had broken into the penal facility, then discovered his mistake while in the process of rescuing her.

There had been the two Gladiator-class cruisers guarding a hemisphere of the planet each, fighting off potential blockade runners with shielded concussion missiles.

When he had sensed that something had befallen his probationary agent, he had asked one of the SDs for permission to land, and on being refused, had not taken rejection....well.

“Someone or something tore her heart out of her chest. What does that?”

"Ah, that would be Mary-"

"You don't know that." A woman's reedy voice piped up from the back of the crowd.

Feeling a glimmer of interest, Mitch half turned, looking over Baille's lifeless face to the man. “Mary?”

"Pretty girl. Blonde bob. Sleeveless top and skirt in even the harshest conditions."

"Human?"

"Sure, human. She'd have no trouble from the High Human Culture people." The frail male sighed. "Magda's right, we don't know anything for sure. But look at us. Mary stayed healthy and rosy far longer than the rest of us, and once a month, volunteered to pair up and hunt for food for the group, but each time, came back alone, citing animal attack. Our search parties occasionally turned up a body, and when it did, massive chest trauma."

“But to put a fist through a person's ribcage.” Nifesta frowned, “Way to a person's heart is through their stomach, but this is ridiculous.”

"She saved little Anton, remember, when we had that cave in. She was the only one of us who could make any headway on the rockfall without tools."

The agent considered this. Human-looking. Several mysterious deaths with herself as the only witness. Intense chest trauma on all recovered bodies.

He had enough for an investigation.

The twi'lek raised his gaze to look over the gathering of survivors. They might have more to tell him. And the interviews did not have to take place on Flitter.

He nodded to the ramp. "Alright, all aboard the 'Unlucky."

Smiles broke out among the emaciated beings as they moved gratefully towards his ship.

Baille still in his arms, Agent Nifesta looked pensively across the devastated, dying landscape, the thin, twisted nutrient-starved trees, the grey skies, wondering where the other thousand-odd survivors were, that the Rebels reckoned were still alive down here.

That was a problem for another time. Maybe even, another being.

He trailed the group up the ramp, aboard the Darth Unlucky.

End of Intervention for Agent Mitch Nifesta.

My epilogue idea for other npcs are not as fleshed out as Mitch's, so his felt it had to be prioritised.

 

IC: Jensen Visak
Location: Commenor (A few months after the events of Port Haven)

Jensen side-stepped as the man in front of him threw his entire weight into a punch aimed at the pilots face. The man stumbled forward almost falling to the ground. Jensen would have laughed if not for the look of unbridled rage in the man’s eyes.

Just moments before, Jensen had been sitting at the bar, enjoying his lomin ale in peace, when the man stormed into the bar, a distraught woman in tow. That was when the proverbial poodoo hit the fan.

Jensen put up both hands in a placating manner and tried to calm him down. “Look, if I had known she was your wife, I’d never have slept with her.” The man screamed, “You did what?!” Jensen looked sheepishly at the woman, “I guess you didn’t get to that part yet.”

The man charged forward and Jensen couldn’t get out of the way in time. The man crashed into him and slammed him into one of the tables. Jensen’s back erupted in pain as it connected with the table. Alright, I’ve had about enough of this.

Jensen swung his fist into the side of the attacker, and then followed it up with one to the other side. The air gasped out of the man’s lungs as the punches caught him by surprise. Jensen shoved him off of himself causing the man to fall against the bar, grabbing it for balance. Jensen moved into a better position to defend himself, “I don’t want to have to do this but I’m not gonna just let you attack me.”

The man turned back to Jensen ready to go again, when someone yelled from the bar entrance, “STORMIES!!!” Normally Jensen wouldn’t have any problems with law enforcement, he hadn’t started the fight after all, but Imperials were a different story. Having went AWOL from the Imperial Navy, he wouldn’t be getting a slap on the wrist for sleeping with a married woman. If he was lucky the stormtroopers would shoot him on sight. If he was unlucky, he would be tortured for information, and who knows what else they might do to him.

He went up to the bartender who he had been talking to all night and handed him a credit chit of a not wholly unimpressive sum, and asked, “I need a back door now!” Eyeing the amount, the bartender pointed towards a poorly lit corner of the cantina. “Thanks!” Jensen said as he started to turn towards the exit.

Just as he was about to head towards the exit, the man who he had been fighting reached out to grab him, seeing his intent to leave. Jensen didn’t have a choice. He was running out of time to get out of the cantina before the stormtroopers entered, and couldn’t afford to wrestle with the man. Pulling his blaster from his holster, he fired once into the belly of the man.

The stun bolt dropped the man instantly as the sound of the blaster discharge, caused the patrons of the bar to start screaming and running out the exit, which to Jensen’s surprise actually helped him with the stormtrooper problem. He saw the white clad stormtroopers trying to force their way through the crowd, their bulky armor slowing their progress.

Jensen made his way out of the back of the cantina, sticking to side streets and alleyways as he made his way back to the hotel he was staying in. The Pearl of Coruscant was anything but. The stains on the walls showed the lack of care and maintenance. He didn’t care, as long as they didn’t ask questions, and accepted cash. He made his way up the stairs and keyed his entry code into the door. Opening it he was greeted by the familiar sound of his friend and droid R2-RX, “Rex”.

He flopped down onto the bed as the little droid asked him a question. Glancing over to the datapad next to his bed, he answered. “Not, tonight. We can go over the details of the cargo run tomorrow morning, I had a rough night.” The droid whistled a reply. “It turned out she was married. He husband found me and I ended the night running from stromies.” The droid gave him a raspberry. “How was I supposed to know the ring meant she was married? There are a lot of different cultures in the galaxy. I can’t just assume everyone has the same customs. Anyways, I’m going to try and catch some sleep before we head out tomorrow.”

Jensen reached over and turned off the light and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The Next Day

Jensen sat in the cockpit of his ARC-170, Rex tucked in behind him in the astromech slot. Jensen had him running diagnostics as they waited for their contact to arrive. This was supposed to be a milk run. That was the reason Lasso had decided to send only him. He was supposed to meet with the client and escort them to meet with the Mercs to drop off the weapons and supplies.

They were sitting in space over the lesser traveled moon Brelor. Jensen had his datapad playing the latest music out of Clak’dor VII. He enjoyed the way the Bith made their melodies and rhythms blend so smoothly. He started getting lost in the music, when Rex announced that his contact was dropping out of hyperspace.

The YT-2000 freighter dropped out of hyperspace right at the rendezvous point. He exchanged pleasantries with the captain of the ship and he informed Jensen that he needed a few minutes to knock some panels back in place. Jensen could tell the ship had seen better days. The hull was rusted in most spots, some so bad it had eaten through to the components underneath. I’m surprised it even runs.

Listening to his music again while he waited, Jensen missed the blip coming around the edge of the moon, heading in their direction. It was and IPV-1 patrol craft, and he would have been dead if it wasn’t for Rex’s scream.

Jensen slammed the yoke forward putting his ship into a dive towards the moon, turbolasers passing just where he had been. “What in the nine moons of-“Jensen was broken off by the captains yell as his ship was hit by laser blasts.

Turning the fighter towards the patrol craft, he commed the captain, “Get out of here now! I’m going to distract him. My droid should be sending you the nav co-ordinates now.” The captain replied, “Thank you son, I won’t forget this.”

Hopefully I’ll be around to make sure you don’t. Jensen switched his weapons over to torpedoes, and once the lock had been engaged he fired to in close succession. The torpedoes leaped out towards the patrol craft. The first one smashing against the shields at the front of the craft, the second hitting the shields near the sensor dish. Jensen hoped it would confuse the sensors enough to let the transport go to hyperspace untraced. “Rex, you have an exit plotted out? As soon as the transport’s gone I want us out of here. We are no match for that patrol craft, and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

He saw the YT go into hyperspace, and immediately turned away from the ship towards his exit route. He switch shields to double rear and kept his ship dancing as Rex finished plotting the course. He started to pull away from the craft, laser blasts filling the space around him. The ship rocked as one of the laser grazed him. His shields dropped to 20 percent. If he hadn’t of toggled his shields, he would have been dead. I can’t take another hit like that.

The faster fighter finally managed to get out of range of the lasers, so he straightened out and started the countdown to his jump, when alarms blared in the cockpit. The patrol craft had launched a concussion missile at him. Thinking quickly he pulled up the rear turrets on to his control screen. If I try to evade that ship is going to catch up to me and we’ll have to do this song and dance again. I’m going to have to shoot it down.

“Rex, as soon as we are clear to jump, punch it. You hear me?” After hearing a positive reply, he watched as the range finder ticked down as the missile raced towards him. Jensen started firing. The rear turrets pumped out shot after shot. Some went wide left others underneath. The rear turrets just weren’t accurate enough from the pilot’s chair. If he could get into the gunner seat he might have a chance, but there would be no time for him to do that before the missile hit.

Ready to meet his fate words scrolled on the screen, “I can make the shot.” Already resigned to his fate he decided it couldn’t hurt to let Rex have a try. He gave control over to the droid, and crossed his fingers and said prayers he hadn’t said in years. The turrets fired again, shot after shot coming from the two rear turrets, and just as his did, they all missed.

Just as Jensen had given up hope one of the shots connected with the missile and detonated it, only a kilometer away from the ship. Just then the counter reached zero and his ship jumped into hyperspace.

At the Rendezvous Point

Jensen set down next to the transport and shut down the fighter. He opened the canopy and jumped out landing in a crouch as the techs were still bringing the ladder over. Rex floated down next to him on his micro repulsors. Jensen made sure to catch the eye of one of them and motioned him over. “I need you to do me a huge favor. I need you to take my astromech and give him the five star treatment. Oil bath, carbon scoring cleaned, sing him a song if you know any. This little guy saved my life out there today and he deserves to be treated as such.”

Speaking of which I sure could use some of that myself. I think I might have earned a nap out there. After my debrief, I think I might give hibernation a try.


End of Intervention for Jensen Visak

 

OOG: I am missing part of my games notes involving the character's name I had for leading "The Organization". As such, I am going off of memory best I can.


IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Mountains, Corellia, one week after the Battle for Port Haven


Music: Batman Begins OST Barbastella

The gentle rolling green yard was but brown scrap now. The once white wooden fence was broken in most places, torn down in others, and all together discolored like some demonic possession had taken hold of them. The small pound and waterfall in the front yard was dried up, full of dirt and the seasonal change of leafs as they fell from trees to the ground. The two trees in the front yard, once placed on either side of the yard and flanking the pound, were skeleton looking to the seasonal change on Corellia. The air was cold, the skies forbidding of gray and dark swirls. Even the dirt in front of the battered front fence gate was hard, forbiddingly cold, and filled one's skin with a sense of great loss.

Lasso looked up from his kneeling position, towards the crumble of debris beyond the misshapen fence and trees. It wasn't smoking anymore, but Jason could remember as clear as day the sniper shot going through his mom's head, his scream at his mom's sudden death, the walls exploding soon after with blaster fire---

"Jason," said a deep, gentle voice from behind him; it was a firm grip on his right shoulder.

The grip on his shoulder shook him from his memories, tears rolling down his eyes. He stood up, turning around to see Alfred, the man who lead the super spy Corellian company known as "The Organization". The man, like all the other men standing in strategic positions around the small town, wore a black business suit. Unlike the others, who carried various blaster carbines and blaster rifles, Alfred simply carried a shoulder slung blaster pistol holster under his business suit. "Yes, Alfred?"

"We need to go. Someone has alerted the authorities and CorSec is headed this way. We can't risk an open conflict with CorSec, not yet at least."

Lasso nodded, looking back to the debris that was once his homestead. He remembered doing what his dad had told him, about going downstairs to the hidden tunnels under the house that Jason had never heard of before. Dad said he would follow after he held back a few Stormtroopers. An explosion had rocked the house above Jason when he was downstairs getting into the tunnels; the fire and crumbling debris had told him his father was dead.

"Jason," Alfred said, putting both hands on Jason's shoulders and causing the young Corellia to turn around to face the older man, "They're dead. I know it hurts."

"You know, just before The Block mission, He told me he would teach me to fight justice. To bring those responsible for my parents' death and for injustice around the galaxy to their knees. To fight for justice."

"You are the son of my best friend and a son of Corellia," Alfred said, "You have the resources of The Organization at your disposal."

"Good," Jason said, looking off into the distance and seeing a small convoy of CorSec landspeeders coming up the distance mountain road towards them, emergency lights flashing, and two CorSec air speeders protecting them from the air as they approached, "Because I'll need directions to the planet of Ilum in the Unknown Regions. Justice starts there."

"What is on Ilum?" Alfred asked.

"Director," walked up one of the business suits carrying a blaster weapon, "We need to go."

Alfred held up a hand, "I know. Prep the air speeder."

"Jedi crystals. And...." Jason focused on something in the distance not there beyond the CorSec vehicles, but there in his mind, "And a people. A strange people in the Unknown Regions," Jason shook his head, refocusing back on Alfred, "I guess it was a Force vision. But it keeps drawing me to Ilum. Until I can find this person named Yoda, that Jedi Master Zat talked about, I won't know what these dreams mean. Heck, I don't even know how to lift a datapad with the Force, let alone understand Force Visions."

"Then we will help you get there," Alfred said, "The Kingdom of Jod believed in the Mercs this far and so did Captain Rick Taller. And so, then, will the Organization."


End of Game for Jason Lasso.

 

END CREDITS


Please take a moment to recognize all those who have contributed to Intervention. Thanks for the great game and time!


STAR WARS: INTERVENTION...

Music: Blurry

• 4 years in total from June 11th, 2009 (at 4:46pm) to November 06th, 2013 (at 10:51pm)
• 6 threads in total
  • Star Wars: Intervention (locked; completed, 2009-2013)
  • Temp Boards (locked; completed, 2012 to 2013)
  • Rocketjock Eatery (OOG)
  • Quick Reference
  • [Library Thread] Intervention (Locked, replaced by Quick Reference)
  • Wiki Library (Inactive)
• 51 players total

• Players and Staff (per year):

2009
Bravo (Game Master, 2009 to 2013, Present)
Ramza
Fanficfan
Jedi_padawan_leigh
Mitth_Fisto (Assistant Game Master, 2011 to 2013, Present)
greyjedi125 (Co Game Master / Co Founder, 2009 to 2011)
NickLitYouAFlame
bterrik
Rally_Fan_84
oreotragus
Lord_Lahmien
Kartanym
Baskerville
Darth_Cadaverous
spycoder9

2010
CrystalFixation
Whitelight
Farsox
Zadann_MaRanna
Wildwookiee
stradman
Jedi Gunny
Katana_Master
Vasarian
XavierClash
blubeast1237
DREAMSTAR
Master_Ponta
Helljumper1178
Twinky_Stryder
Sith-I-5 (Co Game Master, 2011 to 2013, Present)

2011
RainKing
Vehn
Earwen_Lightrider
Trimaj
Falcon
Lukes_Apprentice
Whitelight
dreven_Aarkanin
Coffee_Ninja (Assistant Game Master, 2011 to 2013)
GenOochy
Republic_Anvil
CPL_Macja (Library Game Master, 2011 to 2013)

2012
roxez
Bardan_Jusik (Present)
Skywalker_T-65

2013
GenOochy
KraytDragon90
kommando104 (Present)
SWBob (Present)
tyratoku (Present)



SPECIAL THANKS

A big thanks to all the players, staff, and other JC users who just read our game! Without you all, this game would not of been possible!

greyjedi125; the Co-Founder and first Co-Game Master of Star Wars: Intervention, Grey's efforts cannot be underestimated. He was, to me, a great friend and a mentor to me as a young Game Master; he helped me understand the basics and complexities of game mastering and was always there as a strong support in the game. Without Grey's efforts, Intervention would of never left the planning stages back in 2009.

Mitth_Fisto; the loyal soldier. Along with Grey, Mitth stuck it out with me when Intervention almost closed it's doors twice back in 2009 and 2010. He was there since the beginning and contuined to the end. His contributions, storytelling ability, and loyalty to Intervention can never be taken for granted.

Sith-I-5; an amazing role player. Sith-I-5 introduced a non-canon character into Intervention and masterfully wove a story around him. His contributions to the game, often times taking it over completely (as was the case in the summer of 2013), and constant stepping in to replace me as Game Master when needed can never be given enough credit. He contributed countless NPCs and story arcs to help flush out the story.

Coffee_Ninja; for her support in monitoring and developing of the Force aspect of Intervention. Also for her strong support during some very rough times with the game.

CPL_Macja; for his amazing artwork contributed to the game and his extensive work with the Library Wiki.

Bardan_Jusik; for his support throughout the summer of 2013 in keeping the game running and his contribution of amazing storytelling ability with any character (IC or NPC) he plays.


Thank you to George Lucas for giving us this amazing universe to play in!

And finally, thank you to the Lord Jesus Christ for giving me the inspiration, strength, and determination to follow through with a simple prayer back in February of 2010 and to see what it has grown into years later. Without you Lord Jesus, none of this would of been possible.