Star Wars OPEN Paradoxical Echoes: An Original Trilogy Game (Always Accepting New Players)

IC: Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark
On-board the Darkest Night

The last few hours were a blur to Adrias. He knew that was unprofessional but the drain from the adrenaline took its toll. Added to the fact that he had three engagements with an enemy combatant this day. He was conserving his energy if he was forced into action again. The washing of the armor did not take too long. He grimaced at the Gungan’s blood, had to use some cleaning chemicals to wash it off. He had to change the black coveralls as it was soaked wet by water and the Gungan’s life fluids.

Once Adrias was presentable enough he met the Captain and the other troopers. The man gave a brief speech and informed them that they were to be shipped to the Star Destroyer in orbit. Good thing he did not bring many things with him. They were met by a small group of VIPs by the looks of them. Adrias did not know them, yet, but the rank plaques were telling enough. The Zeta flew them to the huge ship. Adrias was surprised that there was a welcoming party at all. He snorted silently. Poor guys and gals… Being forced to meet a handful of stormtroopers who will most likely won’t meet or get to know at all.

They were met by General Vasiliev who too gave a brief speech. One of the things Adrias hated in the Imperial Military were the endless speeches. He had a good sense to keep his opinions to himself though as it would lead to… further speeches. The Sergeant, the Captain and TK-1245, Adrias took note to learn the man’s name, were singled out by the General. They were soon joined by an older man, who was clearly a Stormtrooper veteran. Adrias almost blanched, he did not know the person, but he had seen such people on Carida. That guy was walking trouble. As if to prove that he “smashed” the Captain, at least verbally, good thing the other troopers were not there as it would have undermined Kurt’s authority. Stark took note not to get in the Old Man’s way… if possible.

Good thing the meeting was short and they were in the barracks. Adrias was a bit distracted as he saw an attractive trooper. She was surely his type, but he wondered why she was there and not on shore leave? Back in the Academy he had a girlfriend, Dinah, who liked to sing and was pretty good at it. He used to call her Pretty Bird. He stifled a sigh, no point in thinking about her, she was probably somewhere far away and hopefully safe.

Once left alone, the Captain asked them what they would like to do next. It was a bit unorthodox for an officer to ask them their opinion. Adrias pondered the question. He was not so enthusiastic about going back down, but on the other hand they needed to build rapport with their new platoon mates. ”I think it would be prudent to meet the people with whom we are going to serve with. So I am voting for going back down.”

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Emperor Palpatine
Emperor's Throne Room, Central Spire, Imperial Palace, Coruscant


Palpatine smiled as he finished with a simple statement, cutting the connection soon after, "Behind you."


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

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Downtown, Javin


Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark had made the deciding vote---which Kurt had originally asked to more-so cut off the edge of a hard-nosed infantry officer running a unit (that would come later)---and after routine checks to depart the Star Destroyer and through the military checkpoint, Stein, Adrias, and TK-1245 found themselves planet side. While the now dress uniformed stormtroopers (their armor back on the ISD) had run into a handful of troopers from Joker Platoon and three "new comers" had met them all with a handshake, smile, small-talk, and a salute (when needed), Stein was interested in finding two people. Of those two, Lieutenant Elena Shan was the first he found. Although a routine maintenance period had temporarily disabled comlinks for upgrades.

She was facing a waterfall away from their approaching direction and seemed---at the moment---alone, so when the trio came upon her, Stein said with a bit of a playful boost as they came to a stop, "Lieutenant, its hard for a commanding officer to take over their unit when they can't find you."


TAG @TheAdmiral , @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Elena Shan
Downtown, Javin

Elena pulled herself out of her trance and turned around to smile at the Captain's remark. "Sir. It seems like what everyone has said about you is true." Elena saluted him smartly and kept her hands to her side, at attention. "I heard you were the best, but I'm afraid you're going to have to prove that to me Captain; before I trust you with my men." There was a slight teasing tone to her voice, though her face remained serious.

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Winterkill
Johnny Boy, Mess Hall

Silently, he ’signed’ a greeting to Havah Jeth as he continued to listen to the tall tale being told.

It was all so strange, the feeling, he had forgotten the name for it. But Palso almost made him chuckle because of it. Stranger still, he found himself smiling at the nonsense Palso was speaking. Maybe it was all because of the human’s ‘lively’ manner, which was something that he found both odd and comical. At no point did Palso make him which he could slice his throat with his blade for giving him a condescending look, or speaking to him as if he were beneath him. Not even for being…what did Havah call it, a Spook. Or was it Spectre?

Besides, Palso was the only one with enough stones to help himself to one of Hava Jeth’s drinking flasks, take a swing and live to tell the tale. Winterkill actually admired that level of mental fortitude. If you were going to die, do it in full confidence. It made him grin as a result, at least for a brief moment.

Palso was funny, but in a way the nagai actually liked.

"Jeth, Winterkill, Palso, report to the bridge. Jeth, Winterkill, Palso, report to the bridge."

Blared the announcement through the mess hall’s loud speakers.

Well, so much for meal break.

Winterkill rose from the table and made sure that he was at least presentable, especially if they were going to the bridge. If they were not being called to go on a mission, then a visit to the Octagon was not totally out of the question.

Glancing at both Havah and Palso with in his trademark unreadable expression, he simply stated:

“Let’s not keep the Captain waiting.”

And with that, he began to make his way towards the bridge.

Tag: @Bravo, @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Javin

'On planet' Natalia sent the message out as she stepped off the shuttle that brought her to the surface of Javin. As she waited for a reply or a meeting place she found herself just wandering about the spaceport and the city. Moving with the flow of people, going nowhere important, not to her. She had looked up points of interest on the planet, things to while away a few hours, but nothing seemed to grab her. Though later in the day there could be a performance of an opera, one of her mother's favorites. The story of struggling artists barely keeping a roof over their heads, but making the most of it. One of their group falls ill, and they each give something to try and make their passing easier. It was sad, or at the very least it was meant to be. She could recall her mother in tears as the final aria played, and the lover of the woman that past held the body in a final embrace.

Young Natalia didn't understand, why couldn't they have just sought a doctor, gotten her some batca, there were many other options, she didn't have to die. Her mother just shook her head plating a little kiss on her daughter's forehead.

"Maybe when you're older you'll understand." The older woman said.

It had been years since she'd seen it, maybe it was time to revisit it...if there was time.

As she wandered again not pushing against the flow she started to hear music over the din of the city. Her trained ear could recognize a Viol, well tuned and in the hands of someone that knew how to play it. Though there was something different, she could feel the notes, not just hear them. Suddenly she started pushing against the tide, gently navigating her way through the crowd, towards the sound of the music.

As she finally broke through the crowd her head turned toward the sound, her sensitive ears picking up each note over the hum of beings and airspeeders. Coming to a square she found a human woman standing her cheek pressed into a battered and scratched Viol. It was a small alto variant, the type Natalia's mother played, the kind Natalia herself played. The notes were perfect, but more than that each one hit the navigator in the chest. She'd heard this piece before, even played it herself. But, the way the woman in the square was playing, it was almost mystical. Her eyes were closed, her whole body moving with the tune, she wore simple threadbare clothes, a heavy jacket slug over the back of a simple folding chair, her case open before her, a few credits lying in the felt interior.

Her dark skin and darker hair seemed to glow as the music picked up moving swiftly to a crescendo. A lock of hair slipped from her simple cap falling between her still closed eyes. Natalia was transfixed, watching the woman's fingers move up and down the neck of the instrument. Unconsciously the navigator rubbed her own fingers, feeling the fading callouses. How long had it been since she practiced, since she played. Part of her felt as though there was no point. She would never match this woman busking on the street.

"There is a difference between knowing the music," Her mother started tapping a much younger Natalia on the forehead. "And feeling the music." Another tap on her chest.

Was this what she meant? That Natalia could know the music, but this woman could feel it?

For just a moment she wondered what it would be like, to feel the music, to play like this, to put one's whole self into the song, to give your all to every note. In that moment she thought of joining this woman, of doing a duet...even if she would only be a determinant, a feline pawing at the strings in comparison to this master.

Her heart beat faster and faster feeling the crest coming closer and closer. She held her breath as the crescendo hit, letting out as the tempo fell, as she descended gently from the peak to the end of the piece. Her face felt flush, her pale cheeks dusted a little red with a blush.

As the busker's eyes opened they immediately looked to Natalia, and once again the Navigator was frozen in place. Those dark eyes drawing her in, filled with something she could not see but could feel. She was almost lost in them as the crowd applauded and some stepped forward to drop a few credits into the open case.

Right, she wasn't just doing this for her own experience. Flustered Natalia patted herself down, looking for some credits. In her pocket she found some spending money. Far less than would be suitable compensation, in her mind. Sheepishly she walked forward tossing a credit chip in.

"I know it's not much." She muttered looking down.

"Every little bit helps." The other woman replied, her voice warm and rich. Natalia looked up nodding her head beating even faster.

"You're very good."

"Why thank you."

"Will...Will you be here later?"

"This is my spot, had to fight hard to get it. I'm here late usually."

"I...I might be back later." Natalia took a step back.

"Look forward to it Sailor." the other woman said with a wink. Natalia couldn't turn away fast enough. The blush growing deeper…

What was this...why was her heart beating so fast...

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto @Sith-I-5

 

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Downtown, Javin


There was a time & place for a causal environment. There was also a time & place for proper military order. Stein didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with the young Lieutenant, but he also didn't want to come off a push over looking for an easy assignment. Call it the privilege of rank, or whatever you wanted to, but Stein would have to set a proper example in contrast to his recent less-than-formal approach.

"A time and place, Lieutenant," Stein replied formally, hoping the infantry woman would catch the subtle meaning, "Lieutenant, this is Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark and TK-1245, our two new replacements for battle losses at Lepsawn 1-9," Stein signaled out each trooper respectfully, "The Sergeant here is a good marksmen, something I hear that precedes your reputation as well. I was looking for Master Sergeant Craig Stewart; I feel that we could use this time to better acquaint ourselves with each other as we search for the Master Sergeant. Any objections, Lieutenant?"


TAG @TheSilentInfluence , @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Elena Shan
Downtown, Javin

Elena picked up on his formal tone and nodded respectfully back. "Yes sir. I apologise." She turned to the two new recruits and bowed slightly with her head. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you." Elena turned her attention back to Captain Kurt Stein and paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I have no objections Captain, but I believe that I know the best place to start looking for Master Sargent Stewart if you would allow me sir." She looked at the Captain and waited for his orders, or rather his reply.

He seems very formal, but I don't need to get off on the wrong foot with him if he is our new commanding officer. Not when grandfather needs me to be on alert.

Tag: @Bravo @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Jim Palso
Johnny Boy, hyperspace,Outer Rim Territories


Whatever Palso's lack of camaraderie with the others aboard the Johnny Boy, nothing could quite match the badassery of Havah, Winterkill, and himself walking down the corridors of the Marauder-class Corvette. The three of them had gained several reputations as the go-to-team for missions that Taller felt needed a seasoned group on. Some among The Mercs called them the Go Team, Three Amigos, The Silencers, Taller's Troop, Silent Joes, HWJ, and---Palso's personal favorite---The Boom Team. There were other titles, some more colorful then others, but they all pointed to the same meaning: something was afoot when they were called. To the mercenary's knowledge, neither Havah or Jeth had ever picked a name to be identified as. And, Palso reasoned, the other two probably cared about as much as Jim did: zero.

Making it to the bridge, the three of them gathered to attention as the swirl of hyperspace was outside the bridge's windows. "Reporting, sir!" Jim said as they gathered. Rank was a bit tricky. Technically, both Winterkill & Palso were the same rank, while Havah was the clear superior as squadron leader for the entire Mercs. Technically, Havah should have responded, but neither of the 3 mercenaries ever put much stock into rank aside from when it was absolutely necessary.

To his dismay, Palso noticed the new guy. He groaned inwardly. Some mid-twenties Corellian trying to one-up Jim as a former firefighter with "natural hands" behind the cockpit and a personality to match the looks (but Jim still looked better, especially with the beard; this guy had no beard). In fact, the few weeks old new guy was so popular that he had even made friends with the droids---as the rumors go. Even Winterkill and Havah had good things to say about him.

"Gentlemen," Taller said as their familiar home of Port Haven floated above the holo table in the bridge, "You all know the new guy, Jason Lasso."

Everyone acknowledged the information one way or another, Palso just nodding. The "new kid" winked at Palso.

Did he just wink at me? Palso thought. He burned on the inside! He wanted to punch off that smiling face! That man was the new guy on the block and rumor had it that some people said he was a better pilot then Palso. Ah! Over Jim's dead bo---

"Junior Pilot Lasso will be jumping along as Palso's wingman."

---dy.

"Son of a hutt's mother!" Palso thought.

"Excuse me, Palso?" Taller replied.

"What, sir?" Jim asked, not knowing his thought came out loud.

"You're colorful exchange?" Rick clarified.

"Sir?" Palso asked, confused.

"You called me a hutt's mother," Lasso said, filling in the memory-challenged Palso.

"Oh...." Jim replied, "That, ah, was supposed to be son of a hutt's mother I'm excited for this opportunity!"

"I see," Taller said, clearing his throat to regather everyone's attention, "Port Haven. Unfortunately, its not a stop-over. Its a mission this time around. We'll be taking in the Tempest from out of system to keep a low profile. We have a meet up I'd rather not do, but time restraints and credits are two things I can only control so much. They're willing to pay, I'm willing to play. We're making this company small, quick, and agile as we always do. But keep your eyes and ears open. Something doesn't smell right. Me, Winterkill, and Havah will be planet side. Winterkill and Jeth, you'll be my bodyguards. Palso and Lasso, you'll sport the G-400's for escort and standby. Questions?"

"Captain," Jim asked, "Why Port Haven? If it smells funny, why bring trouble so close to home?"

"Keep your friends close," Taller replied, "Your enemies closer. I don't expect a showdown, but I also don't expect a walk-in-the-park on negotiations. We're on friendly turf if they shoot first."

"Reoccurring client?" Jim asked.

"Affirmative," Taller said, "But they've never seen our full load-out with the Johnny Boy, only the Tempest. I plan to keep it that way."

"Understood, sir," Jim replied.

"Anyone else?" Taller asked, then when no one spoke, he added, "Palso and Lasso, get suited up, we drop out of hyper in twenty minutes. You two are dismissed."

Palso shared a glance with Winterkill and Havah at the off-beat dismissal of half the attendance, then snapped to attention and departed with Lasso on his heels.

After the other two were gone, Taller looked at Havah and Winterkill, "Keep your eyes and ears open. We're dealing with our good ole' spooky friend who likes business suits and very few details. He's in a rush, however. Which unsettles me. He's never in a rush. He always seems one step ahead of the game. This time, he sounded one step behind and playing catch up. The credits he's offering are substantial, which leads me to think he might be desperate as well. Although, we've never met outside Belkadan Moon Monastery. I don't know his load-out in a non-scripted environment. He could come with two guards or a hundred. He could have a star cruiser for all I know. Every time I run his fingers prints and known aliases, I get nothing from Imperial data files. He's a ghost. No name, no history. And a ghost playing catch up is a dangerous thing. Questions?"


TAG @greyjedi125 , @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Winterkill
Johhny Boy, Ship’s bridge

It was always his way to keep silent, listen and consider what was said, before he formulated any kind of answer. So, Winterkill did just that: he listened and watched the curious interaction between Palso and the newest recruit, Jason Lasso. The ‘new kid’ was a good starfighter pilot and was liked by everyone, except for Palso, for some unfathomable reason. Winterkill himself had no issues with him.

Winterkill mentally shrugged, no longer focusing on the matter. Those details were mostly inconsequential in the larger scheme of things, as long a they both performed what was required of them during a mission, all was well. Should a problem arise, they would have to answer to Captain Taller, and that was likely something they’d want to avoid altogether.

As per normal, the nagai made his mental notes, in the event he would need them for future reference, then continued to listen to the captain. If the three of them were called for a mission, then it was clearly a very important one.

The Captain proceeded with the briefing as a holo of Port Haven was displayed on a nearby table.

It became immediately clear that the Captain had major trust issues with meeting a client, but had no choice but to do so. The fact that he was taking Havah Jeth and himself as Bodyguards said everything the nagai needed to know. He was going to need eyes, ears and ‘cleaners’ all wrapped up in one.The risk factor was high, something was likely to go wrong and there was no room for errors.

The Captain did not expect a showdown, but needed to be ready and have the upper hand incase there was one.

Check.

The ‘new kid’ must be consistently doing something ‘right’ to have been put on this Op by the Captain; Winterkill immediately made that footnote on Lasso’s mental file.

There were no further questions, as the Captain was usually very clear during his mission briefings, then Captain Taller dismissed only Palso and the new kid- which meant there was more in store.

Winterkill caught Palso’s look and returned it with a very subtle nod of his head, understanding the unspoken exchange.

After the two pilots were gone, only Havah Jeth and the Winterkill remained, at which point the Captain expressed his concerns. Whenever the Captain used the words ‘Desperate’ and ‘Client’ in the same sentence, it always raised a flag. In this case, many flags.

“So you are expecting a double cross.” Winterkill reasoned after a moment, speaking his mind aloud. “The question is at what point.” The nagai concluded, then made a thinking sound.

“This is also a chance to get intel on this client and his dealings, which means we may need to interrogate someone in his party, or slice previously inaccessible data, if not both.”

Winterkill’s dark eyes glanced at Havah for a brief second.

“Sir, what’s your order of priority?” He asked pointedly at the Captain.


Tag: @Bravo, @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Rick Taller
Johnny Boy, hyperspace,Outer Rim Territories



Taller put his hands on the edge of the holo table as he bent over and in a foreshadowing tone spoke as he focused on the map, "Nothing. We play their cards. We'll let them make the first move, if any. React taking out targets of priority, stopping their escape, and then gathering intel if possible. However, we must remember, they're paying us a lot of credits. Enough to fund our operations for the next year. So whatever this is, its big. I don't see this as a bait and trap, even if its further down the line. The client is too classy for that. Plus, Port Haven would put them on the map with other groups and they won't want to alienate their clientele base," Taller inhaled deeply and stood up, looking at the gathered, "Lieutenant-Commander Chris Streets will deploy quietly from the shuttle and take up a cover position after we depart. I don't expect anything...but," Taller looked at the map and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Its not Port Haven, if they do anything. Too messy for their style. Any move here makes no sense. However, I expect to see more then two people, which has been the normal for meetings at the Belkadan Moon Monastery. Havah, questions?"


TAG @Mitth_Fisto , @greyjedi125

 

IC: Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark
Downtown Javin

There were the usual introductions when meeting some of the other members of the Joker Platoon. He tried to remember some of the names, but it was too early, there would be more opportunities to do that later. He did not relish the prospect as he did not like socializing, but that was key to survival and eventually to promotion. Finally they met the Lieutenant. Adrias had not expected to be a woman. An attractive woman. He and the other trooper saluted and stood there silently while she and the Captain conversed. It seems they were going to look for the Master Sergeant. That would be interesting to see…

TAG: @Bravo @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: SGIS agents Johmer Evanson, Devon Robie; SAGE agent Rachael Williams, Bantha-class assault transport, the Fluffy
Location: Wobani system, Bryx Sector, co-ords R-8


Mostly undetectable to known sensors, the timeline was fracturing around the cloaked starship


"This is a stupid drokking idea." Opined Johmer Evanson, human jedi knight (exiled from the Order) and agent with the secret Galactic Intelligence Service. He was wearing a tan-coloured one-piece shipsuit with lots of pockets, and had a black hooded robe hanging from his left forearm.

He sat on the bridge of the cloaked Bantha-class assault transport that had become his home since its' owner, the Rodian sitting across from him, Devon Robie, had tracked down his jedi distress beacon and picked him up in deep space, just ahead of an Imperial search party.

Johmer had one artificial hand after the original had been sliced of by General Grevious' daughter, four years after Order 66, whilst he had been trying to sue for peace between the Confederate of Independent Systems' remnant, and the beleaguered Jedi Order.

"Still though," Evanson continued, "Agent Nifesta swears that with a few little tweaks, it should work." He finished, looking at both Robie, and the guest that they had picked up from the wilds of Hays Minor. He wished he could have stayed in that treed woodland for longer; it seemed very peaceful.

However, the needs of their guest, Rachael Williams, were urgent.

"Run though it again?" She asked, peering across at the man from her own swivel chair, placed before a gunnery console.

"I wear this-" Johmer raised the charcoal-black robe. "-with the hood up and concealing my face. We comm the Imperial prison camp, talk to the commandant, and either instruct or Mind Trick him into putting your father, and a..." He used his booted feet on the deck to push his chair around so that he could face his console where an open datapad had information on it's tangerine-tinted screen. "...Jyn Erso, onto a ground transport, and send it out to the camp gate, where we will land in an odd-looking ship, and pick them up."

"That'll never work." Was her judgement.

"You don't want to mull it over?" The Rodian queried from the seat next to hers, drawing her attention. "Weigh up the pros and cons?"

Williams looked askance at Devon while gesturing to the jedi. "What pros? Put them in a transport and we'll land outside your gates. They are more likely to laugh in our faces."

Johmer chuckled uneasily. "Nifesta says to pretend to be a Sith acolyte associated with the Emperor, and to really carry the day, do some sort of parlour trickery over the comm screen to back up the statement."

"What sort of trickery?"

"Well, Mitch prefers to..." He tailed off, a light shade of pink rising in his cheeks as he blushed at the unspoken method. "...I don't like to say, with a femme present."

"Well, it's a femme that is asking, so whatcha gonna do?"

Johmer flashed her a nervous grin, and raised his free hand, palm up, and folding it into a cup. "He, er, uses the Force to manipulate, uh, the commander's, uh, y'know...between their legs. That tends to persuade them."

"You might experience some pressure." Devon quipped, prompting Rachael to erupt into laughter and thump him in the shoulder, before slowly leaning forward over her knees as she continued to chuckle.

"Oh." She straightened and leaned back in her chair as she calmed down, splaying the fingers of her right hand over the chest of her grey outfit. She flashed back to her night with the commandant. "Whether it works or not, I like the idea. Let's give it a shot."

The timeline continued to fracture, branching off in a new direction, the effects rippling across the star system, washing, unobserved, over Wobani, and continuing on into the interstellar night.


Tag: @Bravo - your schism, Sir.

 

OOG:

@Mitth_Fisto ; I remember a post back in the original 2009 game of dead pilot holos in Havah's personal quarters. I included this (vaguely) in this post. Please correct as needed. Also, I assumed your squadron leader status as 4 years (6 BBY to 2 BBY, present) for sake of plot, once again, feel free to correct as needed. @greyjedi125 , you apply on the four years as well. Correct as needed, please, if I was in error or stepped too far.

Dog --- Dog's death is being retcon earlier in this post, as is his family past. In the original 2009 game, Dog was the brother to Terrel Vacks (retcon to friend everyone assumes is his brother because of their bond) and was stated as a soldier (not a pilot) to have died at some point very recent to before the start of the 2009 game.


_______________________________________________________________________________________________________


IC: Jim Palso
Johnny Boy, hyperspace,Outer Rim Territories


Palso zipped up the last bit of the black colored and gray upper chest half & shoulder flight suit with black pilot boots, a gray harness setup, and gray gloves. His K-22995 helmet---well marked up from battle---was black in color with a gray strip running front to back down the crown of the helmet with a set of white words of QUAGMIRE across the front of the helmet to either side of the crown. His S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol was strapped to his right thigh with a gray holster.

Jim was quiet on the turbolift ride down to the hanger, while Lasso whistled annoyingly.

"So, is it true?" Lasso asked.

"What's true?" Jim asked, ignoring the new kid as the turbolift came to a halt and its doors opened up directly to where the Tempest and 2 escort G-400 starfighters were at.

"That you store your full set of clothes aboard any starfighter you pilot?"

"Yeah," Jim said, stopping before the two starfighters, "It is. Look kid, if I get shot down, I don't plan on dying in some flight suit. I'll be target practice for hunters in this thing. So yeah, I take an extra set of clothes. If I'm going down for good, I'm going down on my terms," Jim stuck in a thumb into his chest "Not in some clown outfit while feeling like tonight's dinner for someone."

"What is your problem with me?" Lasso asked, rather too directly for Palso's own tastes.

"You want to know my problem?" Jim asked as he put on his helmet and turned to start walking to his starfighter. Stopping at the ladder, he looked across the divide to Lasso, "Ask Havah why he drinks. Our job, kid, is no hero's journey. Its dirty. You come from a respected profession of being a hero and you think this looks fun. Anyone can fly a starfighter. The question is, can you survive in one and not get someone else killed?"

As the other Corellian climbed up into his fighter, Lasso walked over and looked up to the cockpit from the bottom of the yellow ladder, "Maybe you should get to know someone before you judge them, Palso. I'm not a hero. Not all of our respected professions work out."

"I don't get to know anyone aboard the Johnny Boy," Jim replied, beginning the start-up sequence of the starfighter, "Because they die before I get a chance usually these last two years. So its easier just not to."

"Then what gives with Winterkill and Havah?" Lasso asked.

Jim ignored the question as the engines started warming up, "You better get your starfighter warmed up. Follow my lead and you'll survive."

Lasso groaned in frustration as Palso's cockpit canopy started to close.

Palso looked the other Corellian's way as he climbed into the cockpit. He sighed as he watched the firefighter-turned-pilot begin going through the start-up sequence that he had just gone through. Turning his attention away, Palso dug out a old-style photo from his flight suit's pocket of Winterkill, Havah, himself, and Dog standing a starfighter in the background in the hanger of the Johnny Boy, them all in their flight suits, except for Winterkill, who had been on a ground op that day when the photo was taken 2 1/2 years ago (and the last photo of the four of them together). Dog, a course, was a nickname, but no one really knew the dark skinned human's really name. Everyone had always assumed he was Terrel Vacks' brother, since the two always seemed like loving brothers to each other, but in reality the two had been close friends going back to the Clone Wars. Terrel had been the infantry grunt, while Dog loved the cockpit. Somehow, after the war, they both ended up with The Mercs and the Johnny Boy.

Dog's death, 2 years ago now, had left its terrible lasting impressions upon everyone. Especially Commander Vacks, who didn't talk to Havah, Winterkill, or Palso in quite the same way he once did (there was always that back thought and tone in his voice that he blamed the three of them for Dog's death). Havah blamed himself, but Winterkill blamed himself too. In truth, it was Palso's burden to bear. But neither Winterkill nor Havah would allow him to take the blame alone. Havah said it was his squadron, his pilot, his mission. So his death. Winterkill---in a rare show of emotion---said it was his idea to send Dog and Palso with another rookie pilot into that death's trap of a unplanned rescue mission during the larger mission (everyone else was tied up defending the main group of escape pods and the disabled civilian liner from pirates). A course, Havah countered with he had approved Winterkill's idea. Palso took the blame because he was Dog's wing-man and he had to make a choice to stay with Dog or go bail their rookie pilot out of certain death. Dog was Jim's superior at the time and gave Jim little choice in the matter (to rescue the rookie, which he did), but before Palso and the rookie could make it back to Dog in time, the veteran pilot had been in over his head and died a hero's death clearing the civilian freighter who happen into the system during the pirate attack (and its family of passengers) from certain death at the hands of pirates, but his starfighter being badly damaged and soon, exploding after defeating the last pirate starfighter attacking the poorly armed civilian freighter. Months later, the rookie would die not following Palso's orders during a escort mission in almost the same area of space. So, it seemed to Palso, Dog's death over a rookie who had a fighter jock's hero mentality was in vain in the end.

The four of them---Winterkill, Havah, Palso, and Dog---had been the "go to" team for anything serious with The Mercs. If it was a problem, Taller and the rest of the command staff relied on them heavily to anchor everyone else during a sketchy mission. That was 2 years ago now. Since Dog's death, the starfighter corps of The Mercs had felt more like a pen of sheep with wolves jumping into their enclosure every mission to devour them. Six pilots had died since Dog's death (7 including him) in the last two years. Rumor was that Havah kept holos of the pilots he had lost since becoming squadron leader 4 years ago in his personal quarters, but no one knew the truth. Before Dog's death, Havah was regarded as one of the best squadron leaders in mercenary circles, losing only two pilots in 2 years (not bad for not being "military professionals" and seeing the amount of heavy combat they all had). Sure, Havah had just his issues, but so did every leader. But he made sure as many of his pilots as possible made it back safe.

But, with Dog's death, that all changed.

Havah had changed.

Winterkill had changed.

Palso had changed.

Jim looked over and saw Lasso give him a thumps up. Palso returned the thumps up, put the photo back into his pocket, and keyed his comm.

"Bridge, this is Palso, call-sign Quagmire. Both me and, ah Lasso---I mean call-sign Hero---are ready and waiting. Can you let Taller know he doesn't pay me by the hour to sit here and look pretty? Thanks, Quagmire clear."

"Hero?" Lasso shot back over the private comm between the two fighters, "Really? You couldn't of picked anything else? Don't I get to choose my own call-sign?"

"You'll get use to it," Palso replied back, "You'll get to choose a call-sign when you live past a mission."

"I already have," Lasso replied in frustration.

"Last week's milk run doesn't count Hero and neither will today's, unless you see some serious action."

Lasso raised an eyebrow, "What's your definition of serious action?"

"When stuff goes boom that's not supposed to."



TAG @greyjedi125 , @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Downtown, Javin


Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Is that so, Lieutenant?" he glanced to the Sergeant, then back to the LT, "Lead point, then, Lieutenant."


TAG @TheAdmiral , @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Communications Chief Reen G'Spaugh (npc) , her new quarters, the Darkest Night
Location: Javin orbit


Reen was starting her R&R in her new quarters up in Officer's Country, up in the command tower.

In the bath, specifically.

"I have a bath!" She murmured repeatedly, her chin resting on the layer of white foam as she lay back in the water-filled space, that also made her bouyant enough for her injured ribcage to be less of an issue, so she was able to lay here in relative comfort.

Her role in Communications had given her several good contacts across the ship, so she had managed to get some things at short notice, such as a seatrooper's waterproofed datapad that was right now, open and sitting on her chest, blocking her view of her toes; and a lit candle that was filling the bathroom with the pleasant scent of Corellian Sand Orchid.

She wasn't the first person in the Empire to wonder if Corellians just added 'Corellian Sand' in front of everything.

Panthers, speeders, whirls, and now orchids, she thought, shrugging internally, while the trailer for the femme-led Oseons 8 heist movie played on the datapad, with two voices playing over the edited clips being shown.

"How quickly would you be able to make seven pieces of jewellery?" One voice was saying.

"Five or six standard hours."

"How about if I told you, you wouldn't have to live with your mother any more?"

".......Less."

She was chuckling at that, when the screen blanked then generated a text message that a picture icon in the top right corner, told her was being relayed from her comlink. It was from Voss: 'Want to set up a meet up? We could invite the spook.'

"You didn't need that second 'up'." She reproved, reading his message. You didn't get to be Communications Chief without being anal about such things.

Raising her arms from the depths, and not enjoying exposing them to steamy air that wasn't as hot as the bathwater, she picked up the datapad in her left hand, rolling it towards her so that she could see the keyboard, and typed, I'm in the bath, then stopped, thinking that despite their shared trauma down on Lepsawn 1-9, perhaps that was a bit too much familiarity for knowing the man a day, even if he did have such striking green eyes.

Water and a bit of foam dribbled down the 'pad's base.

She pressed down on the [rubout] key, sending instead: I'm resting up in my quarters. You guys go ahead, and brief me later. Reen.

The datapad screen had blinked back to the trailer, while she was still lowering the device into place.

"I have my own bath." She echoed again, deeply inhaling the scent of Corellian Sand Orchid, and sighing with happiness.

After a moment, she picked up the 'pad again, and sent him a second message: Can you pick me up a pack of scented candles? Corellian Sand Orchid, if they have it. She smiled impishly at the screen, wondering if she dared, decided that she did, and added, I can make it worth your while.

She sent that, and settled again, luxuriating in her sensual treat.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Jingleheimmer Voss (Jingle)
Spaceport in "Downtown" capital city, Planet of Javin

After fielding a few protocol questions with local distributors he found he had a couple replies waiting. For the first he was not surprised. A rather brief and too sharply to the point reply from the Navigator. Although it was a fair question, after all when talking of things that bordered on sedition it probably was best not to talk about them inside a garrison. The walls after all, literally in the machine sense, had ears. Better somewhere else.

Luckily he had just the thing. Pulling up his personal itinerary for the world he found the cross referenced food vendors and dining places. Those marked as suitable by the Empire and those that actually served good food. So long as it wasn't on a banned list but not on the first they should be alright. Hmm, looked like there was a Lutrillian restaurant that served some good ethnic food. Just a few blocks away. Pulling it up he scanned the menu before noting that they did not deliver. Perfect. The Drooping Stalk. Seemed to be a bit vegan, but it should work. Typing up the coordinates he sent them as a reply to the other members of the group just as a rather delayed response came in from the injured member of their group.

Seemed completely understandable for her reason not to come. It was when he was just setting out and working on what to send to the spook when he got the second message. Candles? Worth his while? Swallowing, he noticed his mouth suddenly felt dry. Was this world always so warm?

Adding a note to his itenary before leaving the world he pulled up a new comm message. "Care for a bite? The Drooping Stalk looks like good food, possibly a good place for conversation." weighing it for a moment he hit send. It was time to take the plunge, for the sake of the lost.

As for the restaurant, it should be a nice if garrish affair. Plenty of strong spices and curtained booths.

TAG: @Laine_Snowtrekker , @Sith-I-5 , @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Planning, Johnny Boy, Hyperspace

He had stayed silent after the call came over the overhead. Grabbing a cube into one cheek and downing his drink in one long swig soon saw his mouth occupied on the somewhat quiet trip forward. It was a shame he had to leave the other ration cube behind, his nutrition values were still off from the last couple of days. By the time they reached the main space and had their fun. Literally, Palso and Lasso in the same room with the new mission parameters was fun. If his mouth wasn't full of a quickly dissolving ration cube he wasn't sure whether he would of let himself laugh out loud at the situation.

Then came the real debrief about the situation. Which wasn't much. The client was worth a lot of money, but at the same time was untrustworthy. Made sense, if anyone wanted to drop that many credits it normally meant you were doing a war task or something against sentients or environmental laws. Some of which were ok, most not though.

"Should we load for Rancor or be careful of the furniture?" That was his one and only question.

TAG: @Bravo , @greyjedi125

 

IC: Rick Taller & Lieutenant-Commander Chris Streets
Tempest, hyperspace (Johnny Boy),Outer Rim Territories



Taller snapped the crash webbing together and tightened the harness to fit. He looked across the cargo hold of the small cruiser and to Havah Jeth and Winterkill. Rick had answered the spook's question with the words: furniture. The two of them would be going in without heavy firepower, but the mercenary captain doubted that would limit their effectiveness if things went south. If anything, it would showcase their strengths.

Streets was the last one up the landing ramp, carrying his sniper rifle in one hand as he hit the controls to retract the ramp as he passed. He sat down next to Taller and applied the webbing, putting the sniper rifle barrel up between his legs. Streets was the ultimate cool in any situation; he looked and acted like the rogue cocky punk rocker with little care in the world, but truth be told you wanted Chris behind any scope or leading any operation once the blaster bolts started flying.

Rick looked towards the cockpit, where the pilot was looked back his way. Taller gave him a thumps up and the pilot nodded, addressing someone on the bridge that they were ready. Soon, the Johnny Boy snapped out of hyperspace and the cruiser lifted up and hovered over to the ventral hanger bay opening, before dropping into outer space. Lasso & Palso's modified G-400's dropped afterwards, taking up a flanking position on either side of the shuttle. As all three craft cleared the corvette, the larger ship disappeared into hyperspace. Before the three ships, they were in the last orbits of the Whendyll System; Andrew 'Guitar' Monk had deposited them perfectly: not on the outskirts of a system, a likely place for anyone entering the system wishing to not be noticed (and a perfect place for an ambush), yet also not on top of Port Haven either, a place that would be even easier to monitor. Instead, Monk dropped them off in the midst of everything with just of a trek to fool off trackers, but not enough to unwisely use fuel.

As the ships shot through the blackness of space, Taller keyed his ear-and-mouth set up commlink, "Quagmire and Hero, after escorting us in, take a sweep of the grounds around the port before backtracking to Port Haven and landing."

"Copy, Tempest," came a very formal and crisp reply from Palso; the man was clearly in "mission mode" with that voice, "Escort in and sweep grounds."

Taller, however, had a score to settle.

"And Quagmire, if I paid you by the hour to look pretty, you'd be volunteering your time. Tempest clear." Taller cut the line before Palso could respond.


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

Port Haven


Taller looked up into the sky as the two modified G-400's blasted by overhead. As he walked off the landing pad and his boots hit the dirty of Port Haven, the mercenary captain took in a big breathe and looked around. The smell of the ocean not too far off and the sounds of a forest up against it filled all the senses with joy. Taller looked over to where there were some raised voices between two aliens near a medium freighter's landing ramp---a Duros and a Bothan---and then watched as both aliens pulled blasters on the other at the same time, with the Duros firing first and watching as the Bothan's body, with a smoking torso blast hit, fell to the ground.

And with all those senses of Port Haven, the truth that this was a shadowport escaped no one. Taller wacthed out the corner of his vision as Chris Streets make a stealthy exit out the Tempest as all eyes were on the blaster exchange.

The Duros simply picked up whatever the Bothan was carrying that started the argument and walked up the landing ramp. A short and intense exchange of words could be heard up the ramp then, a heavily modified 3PX-series protocol droid walked down the ramp with a hobo stick over his shoulder and a work needed sign in the other hand. The droid carelessly stepped over his former owner's dead body with as much care and thought as the Bothan had employed him with apparently and started walking towards Port Haven.

Like everyone else at Port Haven, attention soon returned to their earlier dealings, the Bothan's body just lay there. Four Pit Droids ran out from a work shed and started pulling the body off the landing pad and started treking towards the graveyard on the other side of the port. The droids struggled to lift the dead weight up and above their heads, but once they did, they marched the body down the long forest road, past Port Haven, and towards the graveyard. The Port Guards may try to identify the body later before burial, but as the newly owned medium freigher lifted off and shot into the sky and away from the port, the likelihood of any serious investigation disappeared just as quickly as the fleeing ship. The Port Guards were here as a show of force to keep the peace and order, not settle personal disputes.

Soon, Taller, Winterkill, and Havah were into Port Haven proper. Familiar faces greeted them and the trio returned the greetings as they could, keeping an eye out for the "black suits". They weren't hard to find, mostly because it was hard to miss black suites in the tropical heat on a sandy beach. However, unlike the last meeting, this meeting featured 4 strange armored soldiers, which Taller had never seen before, that were deployed in the background behind the two suits in a loose semi-circle; their deployment and distance allowed a clear firing field, although their range would somewhat programmatic for a quick response. Taller expected that programmatic distance to be made up for by an elite-status bodyguard force and, most likely, a hidden sniper somewhere.

No one else was around when Taller came to a stop a healthy distance from the two suits, the one behind his main contact holding a briefcase, and four armed escorts. The wind picked up for a moment and as the wind shot through the head suit, it was clear Taller's main contact was a hologram.

"Not like you," Taller called out across the distance between the two groups, his hand inching closer to his blaster.

The hologram shrugged, "I liked the Monastery Moon."

"And I like a straight deal," Taller replied coldly.

The hologram raised an eyebrow as he took a drag off his tobacco pipe, "You should consider a different employment field, then, Mr. Taller."

"Captain," Taller corrected the man.

"Sniper," Came Streets' hushed voice over Taller's and everyone else's ear piece, "Two o'clock, behind the trash barrier and into the forest line. He has a clear shot on your head. Waiting for the order."

"Titles," the hologram replied, adding with hands spread out, "But it doesn't define who we are."

"Who are you?" Taller asked.

The hologram chuckled, "Mr. Taller, you know the rules of any honest contract."

"I supposed so," Taller replied bitterly, the wind picking up again and blowing sand across Taller's face, "What's the contract?"

The hologram motioned for the black suit to walk forward with the briefcase, putting it on the ground and he took a step back with his hands cuffed resting in front of his waist. Clearly, the suit was ready to defend that briefcase with his life and had the confidence---or stupidity---to take on Taller, Winterkill, and Havah.

"Everything is in the briefcase," the hologram replied, adding, "Plus an additional bonus for your agreement to meet me on such short notice."

"Short on time?" Taller asked.

The hologram smiled, "Good day, Mr. Taller," and then the hologram disappeared.

The lone suit remaining, askedm "Do you take the contract?"

Rick looked at the man, whose black sunglasses reflected Taller's face, "Yes," Taller reached for the briefcase and picked it up.

"You have forty-eight hours," the suit replied.

"If we don't?" Rick asked, odd that unlike previous contracts with these guys, this one was so time sensitive.

"You'll be dead before you know you missed the deadline, then," the suit replied.

The suit turned and walked away, the 4 armored soldiers codly turning and escorting the man down the beach and, out of sight.

"Sniper has disengaged," Chris' voice came over the comm channel quietly.


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

Tempest


The briefcases were no surprise, as they were the typical medium for conveying what this particular client wanted. What was surprising was what the objective was. Everyone---including Palso, Lasso, and the shuttle pilots (one pilot remained in the cockpit as a lookout)---was inside the cargo hold of the cruiser. The 4 ECT B1 Battle Droids stood sentry outside the shuttle with the landing ramp closed.

The three datapads the briefcase provided was portable data of the objective and the same in the briefcase. The briefcase featured a minature computer interface, holo projector, and a stash of credits and credit chips, plus the bonus credits.

The briefing was finishing up and all that was left was the planet of Maryo.

Taller looked at those gathered, "I'll connect with the Johnny Boy. But I don't think we'll be able to slip in with them. We keep this simple. Low profile. The smaller, the better. I'll resume my alias as Lord Visor of the Mining Guild," Taller pointed to the lockers along the wall, "All of us will have to pay the part, as usual," he looked to Havah and Winterkill, "The guard outfits are still there from the last time you two played this part," he looked to the pilots, "Even you three. The G-400's will escort us in and land with us. From there, me, Winterkill, and Havah will take up the resort life. Mingle with the rich and find out where this guy Courage Stack lives. Some high up retired excuitive from the Corellian Engineering Corporation. He had enough credits to built his own house on Maryo, a planet already for the rich and powerful. So it shouldn't be too hard to find the richest man on the planet with a taste for starship collecting and rare artifacts collecting. Once we have the information, us three will break into his place and steal the Fragments of the Lost Kingdom and get out of there. We'll leave straight from Port Haven to get there, as to not connect us and the Johnny Boy together for anyone spying or listening in on us. Lasso and Palso, you two stay in your starfighters and keep us safe topside; Streets, stay in the shuttle as personnel backup in case things go south. Shuttle pilots, stay in the shuttle and keep it on standby in case we need an immediate evac. Questions?"


TAG @Mitth_Fisto and @greyjedi125

 

IC: Reen G'Spaugh, Baille Harte, Darkest Night, and Javin Oversector Command landing pad, respectively
Location: Javin


Reen was still luxuriating in her new bath when her datapad screen blanked went black again, then started generating another text message: 'Care for a bite? The Drooping Stalk looks like good food, possibly a good place for conversation.'

"I'm in the bath," she complained aloud, frowning at the message, "what does he think-" She stopped right then, remembering that she hadn't actually told him that that; only that she was resting up. Her expression cleared with that realisation.

Though the idea and location sounded tempting, it was nowhere near enough to draw her out of her current activity, she was staying in here for as long as she could keep the water warm. There was also a GH-7 medical droid next door in the main area to assist her in
getting out, when she was ready.

She tapped, If you want to bring me some to my quarters, sure. She added a smiley face by combining two key characters. Then continued, Though if you are still up for the idea on Day 3 of our R&R, then yes, I would be up for joining you there. Reen.

She sent that, and settled the datapad back on her chest, and enjoyed the heated water rippling around her shoulder blades and down her back. She dropped her hands back into the water, putting her fingers together and flapping them gently like fins, seeing if she could slowly spin herself in the square bath.

****
Commodore's personal shuttle

Baille Harte had donned her sleeveless green minidress, and folded her pilot uniform up and stuffed it into the bag, and walked out of the small compartment at the back of the shuttle, to sit in the main passenger area, so that she could get her black kneeboots on.

She had plans to peruse the shops on-base for shoes would be more suitable for casual and fashion wear. Plus she was an officer, so she would need footwear for the occasional parties or soirees, should one occur.

She aimed one stocking'd foot into the right boot, settled it onto the deck, and got comfortable, then leaned over that way so that she could work the zip up the side of the boot, then reached for the other boot which was laying on the seat cushion.

Her comlink bleeped and flashed yellow, so she diverted her hand from the second boot to the communicator, picking it up and seeing that she had been sent a set of co-ordinates. Just that. No details for what was at the location. All very cloak-and-dagger.

"Well, that isn't a little suspicious." She murmured. Thinking about it, she had obviously been given the coordinates for the coastal bay where the towering Oversector Command complex was, and she could tell from the numbers that the were for a place, a reasonable distance from the shimmering skyscraper.

If this was the Chief's attempt to be covert, she didn't want to announce the coordinates to anyone outside of the group, however she wasn't aware of there being anything on Javin outside of this impressive example of Imperial architecture.

She needed help, and the only local contact she knew to talk to, was Traffic Control.

So she zipped up the second boot, and trotted back to the cockpit.

"Hello there, is there anything else on this world, apart from the O.C.?" The initials stood for Oversector Command.

"You mean, like with windows and stuff?"

Harte allowed her tone to convey her shrug. "Yeah, sure."

"Well, there is a civilian population centre, that is favoured by visiting crewers and officers for Rest and Recuperation, called 'Downtown'. A few leagues west of here...whatever a league is. Restuarants, bars, hotels, malls. The town even has it's own song."

To the young pilot's horror, Traffic Control broke out into song: "When you are alone, and-"

She gaped silently at the commo board, knowing that she wanted to stop it, but not yet able to galvanise her body functions to intervene quickly enough.

"-life is making you lonely, you can always go...Downtown."

"IsthereanUptownaswell?" She gabbled, her urgency running her words together.

"Ah, are you thinking of becoming an 'Uptown Girl'?"

"I don't even know what that is."

"It involves a short-sleeved top, a jug of water, and a zero-gee arena. If you win, you can get your holo onto the wall of the Uptown Bar. Drinks are half-price for all participants."

"Sounds interesting. I'll look out for the place." She thought this person was wasted in Traffic. He ought to be working the tourist information beat. "Sixty-four million credit question, how do I get to this Downtown place. And don't break into song!" She added quickly.

"Well, there are shuttle transports, or, since you are a flier, you can pop along to Bush Babes-"

She stopped listening, because that name actually sounded familiar.

Yeah, Rick Johnson, a fellow TIE pilot, had once told her about them, if she ever wanted to spend her vacation time flying. He used them to travel around holiday planets, if they had a local showroom; exploring, stunt flying, and so on.

She remembered asking him, why in the Fire Rings of Fornax, would she want to do that whilst she was supposed to be resting. However, if she wanted to get to Jingle's supplied coordinates, and with a degree of independence, perhaps that was the way to go.

Harte signed off with the knowledgeable abo at Traffic, and called Bush Babes, learning to her satisfaction, that they were able to deliver a decommissioned starfighter next to the shuttle that she was aboard now, and just to sit tight.

She got on her comlink and sent back to the meeting organiser: I will certainly start heading to the location. Will update you when I'm closer. Harte.


Tag: @Mitth_Fisto

FYI, re. Johnson - @Bravo

 

IC: Flying Officer Rick Johnson, Corporal DW-418123 (Boss William Con; "Tech"), Trooper DW-418128 (Lance Zachary Yates; "Business"), Trooper DW-418125 (Benjamin Jacob Waynes; "Face"), Trooper DW-418122 (Matth'set'peteravrevma / Peter Streets; "Eyes")
Tavern; Downtown, Javin


"I'm a pilot," Rick Johnson said as smooth as butter and flashed his perfectly white teeth in a confident smile, all the while showcasing his Greek god of a body through his officer's uniform, "TIE Pilot. Only the best."

The human female before him was melting into his hands like butter on warm bread, his every word she hung onto like it was the revelation of her life and he was her knight in shinning armor. A course, Johnson was too thick headed and full of himself to see that she was playing the long game with his emotions & ego and would rob him blind once she had a chance tonight....or until a higher ranked pilot came around with more credits to take in a similar game of play the foolish blowhard.

The woman at the bar counter with him ran a gentle hand down his muscular arm, "Oh, Rick. I always wanted to be taken up into the sky. Especially by someone of your," she looked longingly into his eyes as she inched closer to him and with honey in her words said seductively, "Abilities."

The Imperial gave her a facial expression that would even melt his heart, "I can do one better."

"Really?" she replied, her voice slightly shaking with surprise and suspense as she gripped his arm firmly---yet gently---in affection.

"Yeah," Rick said back smoothly, "Space."


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


"I need another drink," Business said with disgust in his voice as he watched ego-muscle guy Rick Johnson from a round table a few yards back from the bar counter, "What a blowhard!"

The other three dress uniformed stormtroopers at the round table all turned their heads and stared at Business.

"Don't look at me like that," Business said as he gave his comrades no attention back as he stared at Johnson and the woman, "I at least have real combat experience! What does hero boy Rick Johnson have under his belt? A handful of patrols and polishing his boots! The biggest action he's seen was when the mess hall made that Mon Calamari soup last week---Johnson zeroed in and destroyed that refresher afterwards like a true ace!"

The other three Stormtroopers chuckled, with Face adding, "He is a pilot. You know how those uniform jumpers are, Biz," the former Army Sergeant turned Stormtrooper said, using Business' shortened call-sign to ease the tensions everyone felt growing in their fellow stormtrooper, "She'll fall in love with the next pilot of higher rank. All she wants is the accomplishment to tell her fellow uniform jumpers. And probably his credits."

"I hate pilots," Business breathed, grabbing another drink from a passing waitress droid and taking a swig, "Infantry does all the dying and the pilots get all the credit!"

"Hey Biz," Tech said with warning to Business, eyeing the others at the table, "Calm it down. We can go down the street to the other tavern and you know, down there, they have women that look beyond the uniform."

"Spare me the the social crap!" Business snapped, taking a long purposeful gulp of his drink, "Uniform jumper or not, I saw her first!"

"You want something better then a uniform jumper," Eyes said calmly, "Do you really want to talk to her? You know she's going to scam Johnson dry of credits. They all do. Not worth it man. Find a woman with class and respect."

"How can I find something better?" Business said, eyeing his fellow squad members with contempt, "All I do is follow orders, deploy on mission, follow orders, deploy on mission, FOLLOW ORDERS AND DEPLOY ON MISSION!" the stormtrooper's voice rose louder and louder and he stood up, lodging a finger in his chest, "AND WE DO THE DYING!" Business pointed across the suddenly quieted tavern at the stormtrooper's outburst and across the mixed crowd of civilians, pilots, soldiers, and others, "And the fly boys get all the credit for our work!"

You could of heard a pin drop as civilians were caught between a uncomfortable tension as groups of pilots and soldiers started rising up out of their chairs to defend each branch's honor.

"THAT'S RIGHT!" Business barked throughout the tavern with a foolish grin and itching for a fight, "The infantry does the dying, the pilots do the flirting. We," Business stuck a finger into his chest, "Are the heroes. Pilots are cowards!"

"Oh by the galaxy and stars," Tech said nervously as he watched pilots and soldiers starring at each other with extreme hatred; he put a hand on Business' arm, "Its time to go, Biz."

"Sith off!" the trooper said, brushing off Tech's hand.

"That's an order," Tech pushed quietly, yet firmly as he put a firmer grip around the man's arm, "Now."

Business looked at the corporal, "Why don't you go---"

The intoxicated stormtrooper fell to the ground in a jumbled mess with a firm hook across the jaw. Rick Johnson stood there, with a egotistical smirk, "There, problem solved! Pilots cleaning up the infantry's mess once again! You can carry him out to---"

Johnson was laid out to the ground mid sentence by Face who had landed a solid punch across the pilot's face, "You pilots are all the same!"

Then it started, fists being thrown, glasses thrown, tables overturned, and insults a plenty as service members fought for their branch's honor....


TAG Anyone


OOG: Rick Johnson reference; @Sith-I-5 ; @TheSilentInfluence & @TheAdmiral for knowing a possible tavern fight going on with Stormtroopers???

 

IC: Flight Lieutenant Alex Qipao19 (npc), Miami Vice (nrc), Table 11,
Location: Tavern, Downtown, Javin


Alex was in full civilian gear, open short-sleeved flower-patterned shirt, over a white tee, and trousers.

In his lap - he was seated, almost back-to-back with his tour guide, Rick Johnson, while in his lap, he had a nubile blue-skinned humanoid with the unlikely moniker of 'Miami Vice'.
His right arm was wrapped around her back, to support her, whilst his left hand was under her knees and resting on the far side of her right thigh, where it emerged from the silky black sheath dress that hugged her form from shoulders, down her hourglass-shaped torso, to the pert bottom that sat on his lap.

"Your last name is never 'Vice'." He told her. "What were your parents, metalworkers?"

She giggled into the slim glass of fizzy Dian Orchid Wine that Rick had bought her and the femme that from the sounds of things, had mistaken Johnson for an Imperial Starfleet recruiter.
When Miami was finished, and if the other girl was ready, it would be Alex' turn to get the drinks in.

"Oh, Rick. I always wanted to be taken up into the sky. Especially by someone of your," He could hear the words being said seductively, "Abilities."

Rick came back with, "I can do one better."

"R-really?" she replied, her voice slightly shaking with apparent surprise and suspense.

There is no way that she hasn't heard this before, he was thinking.

"Yeah," Rick said back smoothly, as Alex knew he would, and he was mouthing Rick's mostly likely punchline even as he overheard it: "Space."

"Can you take me into space?" Miami asked, seductively biting the rim of her glass.

Alex winced as he watched her do that. "Yeah, don't do that with your mouth. Can be dangerous, Honey."

She backed away from the drink, and gave him a look of innocence and apology. "Sorry, Daddy." She gently bit her bottom lip, which frankly, looked drokking adorable.

"I can take you." Alex acceded with a speculative tone. "Perhaps not into space..."

That went over her head, he realised as she frowned at him.

"Never mind."

The two sets of flirting continued for a few moments, with Qipao19 enjoying the sensation of running his hand up and down her smooth, supple indigo-coloured flesh; he needed this after the terror that had been Lepsawn 1-9. He shouldn't have been down there, he was a pilot.

"FOLLOW ORDERS AND DEPLOY ON MISSION!" cut across the hubbub of the room.

Alex sensed without turning, that an off-duty stormtrooper from that table behind him, had stood up.

The stormies had been on Lepsawn as well, so he felt some camaraderie with them, but there might not be time to tell them that.

"AND WE DO THE DYING!"

Okay, he's pointing now.

"And the fly boys get all the credit for our work!"

Oh no. Alex looked at his 'date'. "Miami? Eject."

He had taught her a word that pilots use, and she had taught him a Chiss greeting - they stand facing each other, jump up, and try to bump each other, chest on chest. She called it a 'Chiss Bump'.

Miami kicked those slender legs of hers, and slid off his lap, bending her legs to duck down, and swiped to grab at her friend's arm, all the while holding her wine flute in the other hand, not spilling a drop.

Conversely, as she ducked down, several pilots and soldiers around the place, stood up, and Alex could feel trouble brewing.

He rose from his chair also, however this was to take the drinks tray that Rick had used to bring the first round, and slip it up the inside of his t-shirt, as impromptu body armour.

"Rick, we gotta get out of here." He warned as the girls scuttled clear, heading to the back of the establishment. "Rick?"

The pilot looked around, but Johnson had gone.....over to the loudmouth stormtrooper, and laid him out triumphantly. "There, problem solved! Pilots cleaning up the infantry's mess once again! You can carry him out to---"

Johnson didn't finish the sentence, a solid punch landed across the Bad Love' pilot's face, his assailant claiming to the unconscious form, "You pilots are all the same!"

See, that was why Johnson hadn't been selected for Dark Nebula, probably. He ought to be evading simple strikes like that.

Then it started, fists being thrown, glasses thrown, tables overturned, and insults a plenty as service members fought for their branch's honor....if you could call it honourable for a stormtrooper and an Imperial Army soldier to double-team him, Alex getting a palm up in front of his face to catch the fist thrown by one of them, and deliberately leaving himself open lower down, knowing that the temptation to bury a fist into his stomach, sides, or solar plexus, too tantalising.

Alex was hit so hard in the stomach, that he lost balance and landed back in his seat, but hadn't taken any damage; that was a different story for the owner of the fist that had crashed into the hidden drinks' tray.


Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Downtown, Javin


Kurt was following the Lieutenant when he noticed three Imperial Navy Troopers by a holo map display on the sidewalk eagerly listening to comm traffic. The Captain held up a curious hand and said caually towards the infantry officer, "Lieutenant, a moment." The four Imperials stopped a short distance from the naval troopers.

Being considered mostly a major naval port for operations across the Javin Oversector, the Imperial Navy Troopers provided the military-frequented civilians areas and military buildings with military law enforcement & physical security options or the Empire's military.

"Darn stormtroopers and pilots again," one of the naval troopers muttered with a chuckle, "At it again like the uneducated apes they are!"

Another trooper snorted in agreement, "It'll be the third arrest tonight for us. This one sounds like a whole cell block full!"

"Lets give 'em a few more minutes of beating each other senseless," the leader of the trio said as he commed off his patrol, A-Five-Niner East, was responding moments earlier as the other two were talking, "It'll make them dragging to the brig easier."

The other two patrolmen nodded and smirked in agreement, "I hear that new coffee shop down the block is good. I'm sure we can squeeze in a fresh cup before we lapse our response time limit."

"Alex," spoke the leader of three, "Tab is on you this time. I paid the last round."

As the trio of patrolmen started to disengage from the holo map, Kurt called out from where they were standing, "Excuse me, troopers?"

The leader of the trio responded, "Can I help yo---" the leader gathered his body more firmly as he noticed the captain rank and the stormtrooper uniform of the speaker, "Captain! How can I assist you today?"

"Well," Kurt shared glances with Adrias and Elena, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation about ignoring a law enforcement matter of military personnel in relation to the civilian populace," Kurt could see, especially, the leader tense up uncomfortably as the other two naval troopers gave off a hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar look, "However, I'm willing to overlook this issue if you supply me with information of what stormtrooper unit is involved?"

"Reports are coming over its a unit identified as the second squad of Joker Platoon. Fighting is starting to spill over into the street, sir."

Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked to the infantry officer with him, "Lieutenant Shan, that platoon name sounds oddly familiar," he said, a course joking, and looked at the three naval troopers, "Now, if I remember correctly, I was holding you up from responding promptly to that incident?"

The leader looked at the other two naval troopers and nodded with a knot in his throat at Kurt, "Ah, a course, sir. I, I mean we, were responding immediately!" The leader and his two sidekicks gave hasty, nervous salutes and ran off towards the tavern in discussion.

"Lieutenant, does this second squad ring any bells to you? There seems to be hot heads under your short tenured command thus far," Kurt noted, not as a slight against her temporary command before he took over, but as a matter of order that the Lieutenant and himself would put good order and discipline first within the platoon as a whole.

Kurt looked to Adrias, "Sergeant, a useful challenge to remedy with the Master Sergeant when he find him?" Kurt inserted with the clear understanding that Adrias would be attached to his hot head squad to help bring good order and discipline to the squad.


TAG @TheAdmiral & @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Elena Shan
Downtown, Javin

Elena scowled at the Naval Troopers, but was fine with Captain Kurt Stein taking the lead; even smiling a little at his hints of Joker Platoon. "Yes, it does sound familiar. But you know what they say about boys being boys." Elena joked a little, smiling at the Captain before straightening herself out to the Officer that she was, that needed to be. "I believe we need to have a discussion about how they should behave themselves in Public. We need the people to support the Empire, not a bunch of a trouble makers. That's the only way we will beat the Rebellion."

Elena turned toward the commotion. "If you'll allow me; I have an idea of how to get there attention Captain."

Tag: @Bravo @The Admiral

 

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Downtown, Javin


"By all means, Lieutenant," Kurt replied to the last part of the junior officer's statement, sharing a brief glance with both Adrias and TK-1245, before turning back to the Lieutenant, "Preferably before they all find themselves in the stockade. It would be an unfortunate turn of events to start off my new command with one fourth of my command under review from Stormtrooper Command."

Easily, Kurt had an answer on what to do to resolve this unfortunate situation. But he wasn't interested in his solutions. He wanted the Lieutenant to showcase off her own skillset. For more reason then one. But that was another matter entirely, one Lord Vader had handed him privately and under the strictest of orders, orders he dare not disobey or fail to deliver on.

Separately, Kurt was waiting for Adrias' response---verbal or through body language---at the suggestion that the good 'ole cap was going to be putting him with the hot heads of the unit (although so far, the future spec ops soldier was as responsive as a rock). A telling challenge of one's ability to lead, gain respect, and perform in battle with the best of the best in any given unit. And a challenge that Kurt hoped the young Sergeant would take to heart, for the sake of promotion into the spec ops position he so coveted.



TAG @TheAdmiral , @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Jingleheimmer Voss (Jingle)
Leaving Spaceport in "Downtown" capital city, Planet of Javin

When he got a quick reply he was puzzled by whom the sender was. Hadn't he just finished his conversation with her? Maybe it was instructions on that salt or whatever she wanted. Then he saw it was a reply to his own message. . .which was meant for the group and the spook. He could feel himself blushing, turning a bright shade of green at what the message stated. Did he just? Did she?

Flabbergasted by the message he simply put it away as he made his way to an exit that should have a taxi pad. Nearly tripping over his own mechanical foot he waited in the cue to the ride. "Alright. That happened." he muttered as he re-took out his tablet and began to very carefully make sure he was replying to the group about meeting the spook and inviting the spook as well. Double checking that was properly entered into the tablet he copied the message from earlier with minor tweaks lest it be taken the same as previously, "Care for a new dining experience? The Drooping Stalk looks like good food, possibly a good place for a quiet conversation."

Double checking again that he hadn't accidentally stayed in a prior conversation tab or prior contact list he sent it. To those free members of their group of survivors minus the injured on the ship, to the spook, and waited. Time to see if this would work.

TAG: @Laine_Snowtrekker , @Sith-I-5 , @Bravo , @galactic-vagabond422